#you exasperated him poor soul

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️ #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝒦ℰℰ𝒫ℰℛ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, always trailing not far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧

#𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈.ᐟ #reiner braun #reiner smut #reiner braun smut #reiner #reiner fluff #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #anime smut #reiner braun fluff #aot fluff #reiner braun x black reader #reiner x black reader #x black reader #x black reader smut #aot reiner #reiner braun x reader #reiner x you #aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #❥ — reiner! #bodyguard reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x reader smut #aot x black reader #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈! #— (.reiner)

[3l1j4hhh]

drabble: riding wriothesley while he can’t touch you. no cuz shut uppp, he wouldn’t be the complete broken mess like everyone else would be. he’d be begging to touch you, to help you feel good. wriothesley 100% falls on the service spectrum.

wriothesley’s reeling, groggy and confused from what he assumes to be a late night—who can really tell from within the fortress of meropide? his vision is slightly blurry, just about able to see you sitting prettily on his desk. a tired smile covers as his face as he takes in the sight: you’re naked, legs crossed and arms perched behind you to support your weight.

he’s only tired, the countless amount of paperwork sprawled and scattered about his desk, the very papers that you’re sitting on. his pens are next to you, still clicked open. as he was finishing up only the last few bits of his previous document, you strode on in up the stairs, a playful tint in your voice as you called out to him.

“your grace?” the smirk was evident in your voice, and wriothesley couldn’t hold himself back.

now, here he is, handcuffed to his own chair by his very own handcuffs. you’re riding him, earnestly and pouring those sweet and intoxicating sounds down his ears. he’s moaning against your neck, wrists jolting every time your pussy engulfs his cock whole. he’s almost pussy drunk, yet still mindful enough to want you, to want to feel you.

“sweetheart, c’mon, spare me a little,” he moans through an exasperated sigh. he feels as if you’re sucking his soul out of his own body, the pleasure in his cock causing him to spiral.

“let me feel you, yeah? let me touch you, wanna feel you.” he almost begs, a still sort of stableness in his voice. his fingers are twitching, wanting to break free of his handcuffs and be able to touch you as you ride him.

“oh? perhaps your grace isn’t that sensitive today as i thought? let’s do something about that,” you purr in a way that sends wriothesley near his breaking point. little does he know, you’re an evil one.

a choked moan bubbles past his throat, breath hitching once you take him even deeper than before, fastening your pace. he curses under his breath, head dropping down to your shoulder. his mouth is hot against your skin, pants and moans sourcing all from poor wriothesley. you’re so evil to him, riding him like this, depriving him of the ability to touch you. he can only watch as you bounce and grind against his cock, tits bouncing every time you lift yourself off him.

“i’m gonna cum, wrio, will you cum for me too?”

as if he wasn’t already shaking, almost on the edge of trying to rip his arms out of those godforsaken handcuffs. his legs shake as he orgasms, hips jolting up and trying desperately to fuck up into you. he can only hear the sound of your giggles as he comes down from his high.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #smut #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader

[fraugwinska]

You know what I'd like to read? Goofy ass Alastor. Him and reader just bonding through being partners in crime. The crime in question? Silly pranks on other hotel guests. They can be painfully cringe and only funny to them. Because you know. Boredom. Make them friends, make them sweethearts, make it somehow end in smut ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )- idc. You do you, Gwinska!

I just want some strawberry pimp shenanigans!

My inspiration for that exquisite prompt?

This: https://www.instagram.com/p/C5SIGvCg91j/?igsh=cmF5cjc5Znlpdnhu

Hello there, patient frauchen! Boy, you had me sweating here! But alas, I did it and I think it's safe to say - I got all your wishes covered ;> This one's for my adult sinners only! Sorry Minors, please DNI!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Joke's On You

Everyone at the Hazbin Hotel knew that Alastor loved silly, dumb pranks.

The radio demon would set Charlie in a panic, rushing in her office to tell her that there was water running down the freshly renovated staircase - only for her and a similar panicking Vaggie to find bottles of water in shoes placed on the steps, groaning at the delighted chuckle from the shadows at the top of them. Morning coffees and stomachs were ruined by Alastor one day, switching the contents of the salt and the sugar jars and in having half of the residents hurl into the sink at once. You were one of those unfortunate souls, the only one laughing maniacally at the whole ordeal as you spat out salty saliva.

Because what they didn't know was that you were just as bad. Maybe even worse.

A few weeks had gone by since you checked in, and you watched Alastor with impish glee as he planned out and executed his tricks on the crew, including you. In contrast to the exhausted, annoyed reactions from the other residents, you always laughed, chuckled or giggled at the outcome - leaving him always in between confused and delighted.

Until one day. Emboldened and settled in enough, you decided the day has come for you to join in on the fun. Prepared with a dry noodle in your mouth, you asked Vaggie after breakfast to help you crack your back, watching Alastor from the corner of your eye, who sat at the table still reading his newspaper. As he looked up after turning a page and Vaggie obliged, hooking her arms into yours and bending forward, you bit down. The sound of the cracking noodle and your fake scream made Vaggie and the rest of the residents jump in shock and Alastor nearly double over, howling with laughter. You couldn't hold it together, showing her the cracked noodle and cackled madly while Vaggie, comforted by a nervous but relieved looking Charlie, just shook her head exasperated and groaned. "Great, another one who thinks this shit is funny." You apologized, still chuckling, as your eyes found Alastor's, and his wide smile and mischievous glint in his eyes told you that this was the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

It wasn't long until the both of you became fast friends, partners in crime.

After the whole noodle debacle, the two of you spent more and more time together, coming up with stupid ideas on what to do to the poor crew. Your first idea was a rather simple one: Replace the Alcohol in Husks bar with various other liquids. You and Alastor had a grand time switching vodka with water, red wine with beet juice and whiskey with apple cider vinegar. Alastor had his fun observing the results, especially Husks reaction. It wasn't pretty, to say the least. The cat had a breakdown when he smelled the vinegar in his usual drink, shouting curses at the deer who joined in your hysterical giggling. You patted the coughing cat on his back and handed him a new bottle of cheap booze as compensation.

Niffty was next, her sweet tooth was just too exploitable. While you prepared the very special 'surprise' cake, a balloon, hidden under a mass of frosting, high and pretty and covered in sprinkles, Alastor coaxed her into cutting a piece. "Come on now, Niffty, a small bite wouldn't hurt! You have to try the cake, my dear. We worked so hard on it, I assure you that you will like it!". She was hesitant at first, but as he promised her another one later, she couldn't resist the temptation and cut herself a piece, not noticing the grin on Al's face. The high shriek at the pop of the balloon was almost as hilarious as her face, covered in cream and colorful specks of reds, yellows and blues. The both of you couldn't stop laughing for minutes, and after Niffty calmed down enough, she took the joke in good fun and happily munched on the cupcake you had given her while Alastor and you cleaned her up, exchanging bemused looks.

After finding an exact copy of the remote control of the hotels' TV set on one of your outings, Alastor had the most wonderful idea to mess with the newest guest, Sir Pentious, who had claimed the TV in the lobby every evening to watch his favorite soap opera together with his egg companions. You both hid, the spare remote ready, waiting patiently until the snake had his show on and made himself comfortable on the sofa. You began to change the channels, and every time the Egg Bois hopped over to the TV to manually return to their show, you let them, waiting until everyone was once again settled before you switched the channel again. The villainous overlord hissed in rising anger, the sound of him slamming the original remote on the floor and yelling about the 'incompetence of these damn VoxTech devices' almost as satisfying as his face when Alastor took the remote from your hand, winking, and changed it right back, snickering as he did.

You continued to play your little tricks on everyone, although you made sure you always made it up to the recipients of your shenanigans. You felt a weird sense of pride and satisfaction seeing that Alastor didn't seem to mind having a partner in crime for a change. You didn't know much about him before, but the others told you that Alastor wasn't exactly known for making friends and having close relationships, and it warmed your heart knowing that he opened up a little bit and enjoyed the time he spent with you.

You also enjoyed the time you spent with him, not only because of the mischief you two brought upon the crew, but also just because you enjoyed his presence and company. He was witty, clever and had a wonderful, contagious laugh. And his smile. When he smiled at you, you would feel warm and giddy and you felt like you were the luckiest person in hell to be able to witness the joyful look on his face, to see his ears wiggle the peculiar way they did when your pranks played out exactly as he planned them to.

***

You turned the page of your book, still giggling. Alastor smiled, his legs suavely crossed as he leaned back in the comfy chair across from you, his own book forgotten and abandoned on his lap.

"I still can't believe you made me prank the literal king of hell.", you said, a hand covering your mouth in a useless attempt to stifle your laugh.

Alastor grinned. "And I can't believe you managed to hold yourself together, darling - yet, you did, splendidly might I add. His highness didn't suspect a thing."

Indeed, you best prank yet was a great success. After endless convincing you gave in to Alastor's idea of switching Lucifer's favorite treat of the day, his beloved caramel apples, out with onions. He had stood watch as you worked in the kitchen all through the night, meticulously covering every square inch of the white, smelly bulbs with a thick layer of homemade, glossy caramel so to not leave even an inkling of the mischief underneath. You didn't want to risk being found out, after all. The result was a tray full of gorgeous, golden, sticky caramelized onions that Lucifer didn't hesitate a single second to take a big bite out of when you - admittedly very nervously – offered them to him, his content hum at the taste quickly changing to one of surprise and revulsion as he gagged and coughed out pieces of the deceptive treat.

"He was really sweet about the whole ordeal, too. I wonder if my 'Apology Apple Pie' was the reason he was so quick to forgive us." You closed the book and put it on the table next to you, shifting and pulling the fuzzy blanket higher over your legs. The library was your and Alastors favorite hangout, usually being empty and abandoned, and it was also the place where the two of you would spend hours and hours together, reading, talking, scheming.

"He forgave you, darling. He still hates me down to his bones.", Alastor corrected you with a sly smirk. "But no doubt about the exquisite quality of that pie, dearest! I had a slice myself, it was delicious! A fine work, as expected from my best gal."

You chuckled, cheeks heating up at the praise. "So, what now? I think we got them all good by now, haven't we?"

Alastor's eyes were still on you as he pondered for a moment. "There's still our amorous arachnid to be played a fool, he has been quite elusive to our trickery."

"Angel is a hard nut to crack", you smiled to yourself, "There's not much that can rattle him. We would have to think about something major, something that really shocks him and truly makes him question everything he thinks is true and real in his life."

"Now there's a challenge." Alastor put his chin on his knuckles as he leaned onto the armrest of his seat. He closed his eyes, the little tell tale static from his chest permeating the air around him, indicating he was thinking intently. You couldn't help but smile as you studied his sharp features. A strange warm flutter tickled your stomach. "That lanky sinner has quite the filthy mind. It would have to be quite the filthy endeavor..."

"Ha, wouldn't that be something he would not see coming from Mr. Celibate - his words not mine!", you snorted, remembering all the times ANgel made fun of Alastor's obvious disinterest in anything sexual or 'filthy'.

"Indeed." He opened one of his eyes, looking over to you while he hummed quietly. "I'm thinking, dearest. What would shock and confuse our dear fellow the most, I ask, than the thought of you and I ... dallying? No doubt his world would crumble."

You furrowed your brow. "Dallying?" You thought you didn't hear him right, utterly lost at his growing grin.

***

You were fidgeting with the loose thread of your sweater as you waited in the supply closet for Alastor to return. It was a decent sized space, stacked with spare sheets, cleaning supplies and a lot of various things that were used or needed throughout the hotel. It was the perfect location for your newest prank, away from any prying or judgmental eyes - as long as no one was wandering through the hallway, except of course, for the intended victim: Angel.

"Dearest, we got the first act running along smoothly, and now, it's time for act two!". With a hushed click the door fell shut, and your heart gave a wild thump of excitement. You shifted slightly as you heard him slip next to you in the dim darkness, turning up the act and forcing a smile that was hopefully bright enough to distract him from the redness of your cheeks and the quick beat of your heart.

The last days were filled with what Alastor had called 'prep work'. His plan: Getting Angel to think you and Alastor would do 'the deed', an attempt to shatter his world view and really get under his skin. So, the both of you played it up by the daily, and whenever you were in the vicinity of the spider demon, you had been underhandedly seductive, upped on flirty comments, subtle touches and some of the worst, most suggestive innuendos you had ever made and had to hold a cringing chuckle every time you saw Alastor's comically pained expression when his back was turned to a more and more confused looking Angel.

Today would be the final part of the plan. Hidden in the supply closet, you and Alastor would wait for Angel to pass the room on his way back from the hotel's gym, as he always did on fridays, unaccompanied and ready to hear your and the radio demons carefully conducted script - something so utterly lewd that it would probably even make his boss Valentino blush. The key, in Alastor's words, was to deliver your fake sexual activities just loud enough so that he would walk past and listen and - well, you guessed you were supposed to shock him to the core.

"My shadows told me he's about to exit the gym. So, are you ready, sweetheart?", Alastor spoke with a wicked, glowing grin as you eyed the door, listening for the soft shuffle and clunking footsteps. "Showtime. Now..." His voice was low, almost sultry in its timber and proximity. You could barely react, and even though you felt nervous, you closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself enough to remember what you had to say.

The footsteps were getting louder, and you took a deep breath before shooting Alastor a glance, sly smile in place as you nodded. Go time.

"Alastor...", you sighed, almost cringing at the sound of your voice, too breathy for your own liking, and not at all sexy. This better would work... "Not here, we can't..."

"You just have to be quiet, pet...", Alastor retorted, and your face instantly burned red. It didn't sound like... that when the both of you put it into writing, not at all. Your chest clenched and heat rushed through your body, but you had to focus, had to see this through...

You struggled to hold yourself together, remembering your next line as you heard the steps outside slowing down.

"You're doing great, darling, keep it up...", he whispered, his smile tight and eyes narrow. His voice rose, making Angel on the other side of the door freeze in his steps. "Then I'll better have to keep that pretty mouth occupied."

It took all your willpower to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down your spine, instead you returned his grin with your own weak one. Keep it up echoed in your head, and you decided you were in for a penny, in for a pound: You moaned loud and sinfully while you kept your gaze locked with his before letting out a high-pitched squeak of fake-surprise, biting your lip.

You could hear Angel shuffle and listened as his ear must've neared the thin door. Your heart beat in your throat, excited to have caught both of their interests - Angel's, as well as Alastor's alike. It was as if something in the other demon snapped and he seemed to be, dare you say it, into your little act. There was a glazed over look in the crimson of his eyes, staring at you in an unreadable expression.

"My, my, aren't we eager...", Alastor mumbled, almost more to himself as his claws found their way to your hips.

"I... I'm...", you trailed off. Shit, the script, he was going off the script. What the fuck was next again?

He tilted his head slightly, pulling you closer, so close his nose bumped into yours and his lips were near enough that they nearly grazed your heated cheeks. "Al.. what are you doing?", you whispered frantically, realizing with sudden excitement the hard, long object pressing into you was NOT an ill-placed broomstick. It was like a jolt, electricity running from where his body was flush against yours, flooding your lower body and rendering you into a flustered mess. He scraped one of his claws along your throat, breathing a little to heavy to it being just an act. His hips snapped in a sudden, desperate movement, making you and him both groan at the intensity of his erection rubbing against your heated core.

Wait. His erection?

You panicked - This wasn't how this was supposed to go, but yet your traitorous body felt like it was burning hot, the sound of Alastor's strained sighs music to your ears. You wondered if he could feel the slight wetness from your core against his pants, feeling almost faint but nonetheless unreasonably aroused at the thought. His chuckle vibrated low and dark in his throat, eyes flashing as you panted helplessly against him. Your own legs began to tremble with the tension and the intensity of his movements, which now had you caged between his solid body and the wall behind you.

"I'm going to ruin you, darling...", he uttered, the pet name thick like honey leaving his lips, and you choked a breath as you moaned and felt his smile press against your jaw, traveling to your mouth, "I'm going to pick you apart, my darling dearest, and you will beg for me not to stop, never to stop until I make you forget to say anything but my name."

He was out of it. You were out of it. You forgot about the script, about the whole idea of the prank. You couldn't even care about the mumbled words that the listening Angel must've said from the other side of the door, because you were completely captured, overwhelmed by the turn of events, overwhelmed by the tall, dark demon pressed up against you who was moving his hands hungrily over your body, devouring you whole with his piercing eyes and cock throbbing against your groin, eliciting desperate whimpers with the slow movements of his hips against yours.

In a matter of seconds, Alastor had reached down to free his cock from his clothed restraints. You let out a broken whimper as he shoved up your skirt, running the smooth surface of his claw against your clothed entrance, pushing the wetness that was dripping through the thin barrier away, not a single care in the world about the sticky dampness his fingers were covered in. His mouth left yours to let his tongue lick down your neck and shoulders, teeth catching your pulse and sucking, bruising your tender skin.

“Only I am going to get to feel you, make you keen, scream and moan under my fingers and lips and cock, you hear me?”

You couldn't reply as he pushed into you, hard and in one, relentless strike. Your heart was beating impossibly fast, so fast you thought it was about to break, and the sharp pleasure mixed with pain was mind numbing and made the stars behind your shut eyes explode.

"My perfect. little. frivolous. pet."

Every word was a thrust, deeper and deeper until you couldn't take it anymore and wailed out his name in a wanton cry, so sudden and urgent that even Alastor looked shocked and ecstatic in surprise. The tension rose and exploded, and you clenched and pulsed and shivered around his shaft, feeling every inch inside of you and trying so hard to remember how to breathe. He growled into your shoulder and leaned his forehead against your neck, pulling you onto his length in sharp, hard jerks that send sparks down your body. The warmth of his cock was unreal and incredible as he stretched you again and again, a pleased hum escaping his lips and it going straight to your head.

"A-Alastor... fuck, I'm so... so close..."

His grip tightened, a vicious thrust, hitting you so deep that you threw your head back, chanting his name in desperate mewls. Every fiber of your being was tingling, an indescribable pressure building up from deep inside you, erasing your mind.

He made true to his word.

You truly forgot anything else, the only thing on your mind, his name, spilled from your lips in sync with his accelerating thrusts.

***

"I'm telling yo', they're not fucking."

Angel pulled the cat harder, almost running back to the corridor with the cursed supply closet.

"Husk, I'm a fuckin' porn actor. I know how a good shag sounds like. They're makin' the beast with two backs, and holy shit are they goin' at it."

"The beast with two back's?" Husk rolled his eyes, and groaned in exasperation as Angel jumped excitedly and shuffled the other nearer towards the closet, listening intensely.

"Don't yo' get it? It's their schtick, their sick lil' past-time-pleasure. They were bein' too quiet the last few days. And yo' falling for their dumb joke, hook, line and sinker."

Angel hesitated, eyes shifting between his grumpy looking lover and the closed door, from which he could still hear desperate moans and dull thumps. He had been so sure, but now he was uncertain. No not uncertain. He was sure.

Sure that Husk was right. Alastor and you were screwing with him, majorly so. You were playing some stupid prank on him, like you did with all the others, and now he fell for it, too! The last one standing, the only one you hadn't gotten to.

"Those sleazy, scheming bastards!"

Another loud thump made Angel turn on his heels, suddenly delighted with mischief. The last thing he heard was your voice, crying out Alastor's name in an utterly outrageous moan. He reached out in smug victory, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it with steady hands

“You prankster-bitches can cut the fuckin' act, I didn't fall for...”

A screeching, ear-ripping howl burst from the opened door. Angel shrieked in fear as black tentacles sprouted out of the frame, grabbing him and a terrified Husk, trowing them out of the corridor in a wide, long and forceful swoop. The two demons crashed against the sofas of the foyer, making them fall and tumble over. Husk groaned, fighting his way out of the mass of pillows he was buried under, while Angel was panting on the backrest of one toppled three seater, one of his hands on his heaving, fluffy chest while the other three were buried in the upholstery.

“Huh. I stand corrected.” Husk said, shaking his head at the still furiously squirming tentacles retreating into the darkness of the corridor.

“F-fucking told y-'ya!”, Angel stuttered, frozen in place. “Do me a fava', yeah? Fix me a drink so strong it makes me forget what Al's dick looks like.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut

[kamesama]

sukuna and yūji as siblings ( inspired by this post by @nessieartss )

they are nearly spitting images of one another, but they get gravely offended if someone gets their names mixed up. calling yūji by sukuna's name is always followed by a scowl and his brows wrinkling his skin. sukuna's reaction is the same, making them even more similar. these offences lowered in number after sukuna got his face tattoos, however, they still happen every now and then.

on that note, although they behave differently and have nearly opposite worldviews, there are a couple of gestures that seem to be a shared muscle memory; the way they twist their necks and look at some wandering source of stupidity with the same unimpressed gaze being one of them. of course, they do so in a sync. the way they run their hand through their hair and scratch their head a little when confused. the way they fix their shirt and turn to the side in front of a mirror to judge its fit.

yūji is most definitely subjected to sukuna's insults, but he takes them pretty well; he puts up a fight of his own which sukuna appreciates ( invisibly ). he is happy to know his little brother is resilient. however, there are days where yūji simply cannot stomach the proportions of sukuna's asshole-ry. why are you such a prick?

fights — both verbal and non-verbal, physical and non-physical — are nearly a religious everyday routine. some days it's just sukuna walking by and ruffling yūji's hair as he leaves home, and some days it's a ferocious battle ending with yūji in a headlock because he responded to sukuna's random insult with an exasperated and serious, what the fuck is your problem, dude?

sukuna always ends up having an upper hand.

no one gets to bully sukuna's younger brother — other than him. sure, now when they are older, yūji can handle his own ordeals, but as children, one glare from sukuna was enough to provide salvation for his little brother. sukuna also had a way with their parents to get them out of trouble. how he managed to talk things out with them is beyond yūji even today, but sukuna always saved his ass, walking into crying yūji's room with a confident grin on his face to tell him problem's been solved and he can start kissing his feet.

sukuna found a scrunchie laying around at some point and gave yūji the worst time ever because he teased him so much.

yūji — god bless his wonderful soul — is undoubtedly the more respectful one of the two, unsurprisingly so. that pudding in the fridge that he knows belongs to sukuna? he doesn't touch it. he has no interest in it whatsoever. sukuna, on the other hand, will devour anything and everything he gets his hands on with no regard for ownership. i licked it so it's mine kind of logic. yūji starts hiding his snacks. sukuna nonchalantly finds them.

sukuna busts into yūji's room with nearly no announcement and regard. yūji, on the other hand, always knocks. at some point in the early teenagehood, sukuna's room was a yūji-free zone. no brats allowed. as such, yūji has lesser knowledge of sukuna's room than sukuna has of yūji's.

blackmail. threats. vile words and promises. "brat, give that back or you will never see your vanity fair jennifer lawrence poster again." "*gasp* you wouldn't." "oh, i will."

sukuna finds ways to get certain posters, photos, stickers, merch and absolutely whatever else yūji is dying to have, only to bully the poor boy. "can i see?" "no." "you don't even like that show!" however, these things always find their way onto yūji's desk in the end, or wind up under his bed. when they do, yūji strolls over to sukuna's room with the brightest sun-kissed smile on his precious mouth and expresses his gratitude with the utmost of sincerity and child-like joy. sukuna responds with aloof indifference and a middle finger. it's the tough love.

the times they do get along is when they watch movies together. it's never explicitly admitted, but it has to be their favourite way to spend time in each other's presence. they will binge a show, discuss characters, eat an unhealthy amount of snacks along the way, completely unfazed while someone's guts get clawed out and slurped on screen. horror movies are their forte but yūji successfully got sukuna hooked onto some slice-of-life romance drama here and there. if they are not watching something on some brimming-with-viruses-and-completely-illegal website at home, then they definitely go to the cinema.

the 3 am conversations about life happen. they chew on leftovers of a cold pizza, home alone, under the kitchen light, slowly and calmly commenting on the unyielding passage of time, importance of ambition and drive, and the paradox of life's meaningful meaninglessness. they do so for nine minutes before falling into silence and commenting how stupid that cliff hanger was and how a manga chapter will be delayed again.

yūji's music taste is a spectrum far wider than sukuna's, and although he prefers pop, there are some questionable and edgy songs that seem to crawl their way into his ear because sukuna keeps listening to them on high volume while showering.

surprisingly, yūji is messier than sukuna. both are relatively clean in a way that neither of their rooms resemble a pigsty, but yūji has stray hoodies on his chair or textbooks spread and splattered over his desk ( whether he actually reads them is a separate topic ). sukuna keeps his things relatively neat and leans more towards minimalism in certain aspects.

their styles most definitely clash, but not too drastically; sukuna always seems to wear something of a darker hue to the point yūji strongly questions if he owns something that isn't red, black, white or some shade of grey. on another hand, yūji adores his vivid colours; ugly mustard yellows and pastel pinks and forest greens. sukuna likes his accessories a little edgy but tasteful; yūji finds those to be a hassle because he moves around so much. however, they both seem to show affinity towards comfortable and casual wear.

because of their contrast in terms of dressing, they rarely steal borrow one another's clothes. however, there is a very cool-looking dark blue denim jacket of sukuna's that yūji's got heart eyes for, and every now and then he wears it without having asked for permission. yūji's cheeks are stuffed with his order of burger and french fries when he gets a call from sukuna. he picks up, and all that greets him is a frigid and irritated, brat, did you steal my jacket again? yūji swallows and hangs up.

yūji's socks keep disappearing. it takes him a while to realise it's because sukuna is stealing them, solely because they are made of cotton and comfy.

yūji likes sukuna's phone cases; most of them are dark-ish, sure, but they have this visual effect of elegance that makes the phone look nice. no, sukuna does not give them to his brother. the chambers of his heart are not that vast.

sukuna is more familiar with yūji's friend group than yūji is with sukuna's. he gets along with megumi, enough to acknowledge him as a good friend of his little brother. originally, he teased yūji about nobara, but once he met her, he stopped with a claim that there is zero chemistry between the two and that they're just no fun ( nobara gave him a death glare ). he calls them brats, collectively. on another hand, yūji is not well-versed enough to have a stable opinion of uraume, who seems to be sukuna's partner in crime, but he is very familiar with how irritating his brother finds yorozu who just cannot seem to stop annoying him.

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk yuuji #jjk sukuna #itadori yuuji #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk headcanons #headcanons #yuuki headcanons #sukuna headcanons #kamesama

[meadowscarlet]

being in a secret relationship with jj maybank.

pairings: jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader.

warnings: nsfw under the cut and inappropriate language used.

author’s note: last post for now i’m going to be busy this week and the next week so i’ll take a break from writing atm and hopefully i’ll get inspo to finish my james fic soon. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

the forbidden relationship

• he always considered himself lucky to have you as his girlfriend—you were literally the embodiment of perfection, something that he clearly wasn’t and you were someone who is way out of his league

• but he wanted to fucking show everyone that you were his and he was yours

• unfortunately he can’t. you and he both know the risks associated with being together, which is why you persisted in keeping this relationship a secret although jj doesn't want to, he goddam knew you were worth every risk but because of the way you pleaded with him, telling him that your family wouldn't want this, he relented

• only sarah knew in your family about your relationship with jj but thankfully your sister swore not to tell anyone, especially to rafe and though jj doesn’t give a single fuck about that snobby asshole, he knew rafe was still your brother (though sometimes he had a difficult time comprehending that—you were an angel and rafe was... rafe)

in the relationship

• a literal golden retriever boyfriend

• super!!!! duper!!!! obsessed with you

• the pogues, whenever they are at john b’s shack (especially pope, bless his poor soul) has to put up with jj constantly rambling about how much he loves you

• like he never shuts up about you and the pogues were convinced that the lovesick fool was so fucking whipped that they weren't sure whether to be concerned or amused

• “like i just can’t even explain it, man, i love my girl so fucking much.” he would say with a goofy grin, head already filled with everything about you

• pope, looking exasperated, would grumble. “you literally just gave millions of reasons why you love her, we get it, jj.”

• will always give you compliments and shower you with praises

• “you’re so beautiful,” “have i ever told you today how hot you look?” “jesus christ, you’re unreal, love.”

• calls you “my girl” “babe” and “love”

• always. demands. your. attention.

• he’s literally soooooo clingy!!!!!

• and easily jealous

• “he was literally eye fucking you.”

• whenever a guy approaches you and openly flirts with you, he would scowl. sometimes, even though jj wants to approach you, punch the asshole, and drag you along with him, he can't because it would be obvious to people that there’s something going on between you two when he promised you he would keep it lowkey but it was just so hard

• you always reassure him by pecking his lips and saying that he’s the only guy you love

nsfw

• a total fucking tease

• when no one was looking, he would slyly palm your ass or place his hands inside your skirt, delicately caressing the fabric of your underwear where his finger brushes your covered pussy

• “my god, babe, you’re soaking already and i haven’t even touched you yet.”

• you can practically hear the smirk in his words

• so horny. you would literally just breathe and he would get turned on

• he would sometimes sneak into your room (which was beside rafe’s) and would fuck you there

• jj maybank is a fucking sex god. he knew exactly where to put his mouth on every part of your body, including your cunt, your lips, and your sweet spot in your neck and he also grasped how much of an impact his thrust would have once he was fully inside of you, given how you struggled to contain your whimpers and clung to him as he rocked into you

• “i wonder what your brother is going to think when he sees his precious sister drunk on my cock.”

• “as much as i love hearing your sweet moans, love, you don’t want to get caught, do you?”

• gives the best orgasms and he knows it

• aftercare!!!!!

• would pull your naked body to him, lay your head on his chest as he hug you close to him, whispering how good you were and reassuring you while pulling your hair in one shoulder as he kisses the other bare shoulder softly

• “soon we can do all this without hiding from everyone. i’ll make sure of it.”

#♡ — ani’s works. #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks x fem!reader #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you #outer banks smut #outer banks headcanons #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks

[rosewine-5]

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (2)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastor’s daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

A.N: reader’s last name is Bennett.

A.N2: Thank you all for the likes & feedback from part one, here’s part 2!

UPDATE: Part 3 is here!

Word count: 1.1k

divider by saradika

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore Billy like the plague. He had a different idea, he would follow you like a lost puppy, never close enough for you to see, but you knew his eyes were on you. Going into town: you knew he was there. Working at the bar: you knew he was there. Even in church: you knew he was there and it drove you crazy. You all were taught to not look behind you during service, eyes forward and towards the pulpit at all times.

You were yearning to catch a glimpse of him, just to know you weren't crazy. However, you couldn't risk getting scolded by your mother for improper behavior. So you sat still, the burning of his eyes on you nagging you the entire time. As you waited for your father to finish saying goodbyes, you heard a voice behind you. “I should’ve known the pastor's daughter could clean up so well,” Billy said, looking you up and down.

“I didn't know the cowboy knew the Lord’s word either.” you responded, looking at him. “We all have our secrets, darling.” He said, a smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth. “So what are yours, Billy?” you asked, leaning on the wall and looking up at him. “I'm not telling mine if you're not telling yours, Ms. Bennet.” He grinned. You peeped inside the door and saw your father still in the middle of a conversation, so you had time. “Alright, I'll let you ask 3 questions about me, and I'll do the same with you, deal?”

“Deal. First question: Have you ever had a drink, and I ain't talking about wine?" Billy asked, to which you nodded in response. "Never. Have you ever taken someone's life?" you asked, noticing a slight twitch in his eyes. "Yes, I killed men before.” he replied, making your blood freeze. You felt your eyes go wide. “Let me guess, it goes against one of the Lord’s rules?” Billy asked, a tone of sarcasm laced in his voice. “Yes, a pretty big one!” You shouted, making him chuckle.

“Don't worry sweet thing, I'd never kill something so pure and innocent as you.” He smirked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I'm not so innocent, murderer.” You snapped, the grin never leaving his face. “Oh really? So you’ve held a gun before?“ Billy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Of course I have!” you answered, making him gasp loudly and putting his hand over his heart in a mocking manner. “I thought you were a proper lady Ms. Bennett! How dare you touch a gun!” he said, adding an exasperated gasp to his sentence, making you laugh.

“Shut your mouth! I know how to use one, I've just never shot one.” You said, seeing him side-eye you. “You poor soul.” you heard him whisper to himself. “So, why do you bother me so much?” you asked, giving him a sharp and challenging look. “You intrigue me, little Bennett. I don't get how you've had such a protected lifestyle.” be answered. “Having a stable life isn't protected.” You said, shrugging. “Yeah? Because I've seen those brothers of yours in the bar, and they have the same rules you do I assume.” said, making you nod.

“Bull. Shit.” he said, chuckling. “You don't even see how deprived you've been of fun because you’ve had your eyes set on heaven the whole time.” Billy said, and then you saw his smile change, his eyes darkening. “Oh. You poor little thing. You don't know what you're missing out on.” He said, making you look at the ground in embarrassment. “Eyes are up here, little girl.” he said, tilting your head up. “So then answer my last question. What do you want from me?” you asked, annoyance laced through your words.

He smirked and then grasped your necklace and tugged it slightly so you were almost nose to nose. “I thought I made my thoughts clear from the start, honey. I want you.” He said, hearing the desire in his tone.

You stepped away from him like he was a raging fire, and yet you stayed close enough to still be within arms reach. You both didn't say a word, you didn't need to. His word rang in your ears. This man was a walking sin, the devil in the form of a man: a very handsome man. His eyes glued to your face, waiting for your next move.

Just like that the word faded away. You were no longer outside the church, you were in your own little paradise. The one that surrounded you when you got lost in his eyes. Your dress softly flows in the wind, yet you don't feel the chill of the breeze. You didn't feel anything actually.

“I want you”

He didn't know how those 3 words and 8 letters affected you, but then again, maybe he did. Did he want to make you get flustered like this? Possibly. Would you slap him if no one else was around? Probably.

At the same time did you think about what he was saying? Definitely!

Before you could give him an answer, he spoke up first. “Don't you wanna live, honey?” Billy asked, giving you that same signature smile. Fuck him and his cowboy casanova ways, God excuse my French. As a matter of fact, fuck his pretty smile. Fuck his beautiful eyes. Fuck his large strong hands and make you lose your words with a simple touch. And fuck yourself for crushing on him.

Before you could answer him, you were happy to see your father walk out with your mother and father in tow. “Thank you Jesus!” you thought. “Ah! Billy. I see you've met my daughter.” He said, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Lovely daughter you've raised, sir. She was just helping me understand the message today, wise girl you have right there.” he said, giving you a kinder smile, but the true intentions remained a secret, one only you two knew.

“Well if you ever want to study the word more, she’ll talk to you about it. Won't you, dove?” he asked, the stern look in his eyes daring you to say “no” along with his palm on your shoulder. “Bringing a man closer to God and Jesus gets you to heaven as you always say.” You said with a nervous smile. Billy, who was now leaning on the wall, gave a knowing look in his eyes. “Closer to heaven” you say, Ms. Bennett?” He asked, a playful edge showing through his words. “Amen to that.” he said, taking your hand and kissing it softly. Before you walked away with your family, he whispered to you one last time. “Now I have a veiled excuse to have you to myself.” And with one last smirk, he walked away from you, leaving you shaken.

Your dad had no idea what he had just done. For a man of God, he seemed to be blind to the works of the blue-eyed devil in front of him.

The man who preached on saving souls from temptation just presented the blue eyed silver tongued serpent with his new Eve.

And the apples were looking riper by the minute.

#black reader #x black reader #!black reader #black!reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth smut #coriolanus snow x reader #billy bonney x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x black reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid #william h bonney x black reader #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney #coriolanus snow x black reader #virtuous adoration

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

Year: 1912

The wind blew in through her hair as her horse galloped along the English countryside. She could’ve sworn the wind was whispering in her ear as her smile beamed at the beautiful world before her. 

“Oy!” She glanced back to see Tommy’s smiling face, “What’s the hurry, love?” She grabbed the reins to her stead, tightening them slightly to slow down to her friend’s speed.

“No hurry at all,” she said behind a grin, “I just thought you were a horse connoisseur.” Tommy raised an eyebrow at that.

“Are you saying I’m all talk?” he said, feigning exasperation.

“I’m saying your riding is shit.” she shot back playfully, letting her grin turn into a cheeky smile. Tommy’s other eyebrow raised to match the first.

“Well,” he said, adjusting himself slightly, “I guess we’ll have to see who the best horseman is.” 

“You mean horsewoman?” She corrected, a lilt in her voice. 

“I didn’t mean-” Before he could finish his thought, Y/N took off. Tommy mumbled a string of expletives before bolting after her. She leaned forward, forcing her horse to maintain the speed she needed. She could hear Tommy hot on her heels as the lake came into view. 

“Come on.” she urged her horse as she began to see the outline of Tommy in her vision. Suddenly, the horse stops at the edge of the lake. Seconds later, Tommy is by her side.

“Well, that was shit sportsmanship.” She shot him a brazen smirk.

“But I still won.” Tommy clicked his tongue.

“I guess you did.” He said, jumping off his stead. She followed his lead, landing beside her companion. 

“Now you have to admit, I am the superior horseman.” She punctuated the sentiment by placing her hands on her hips. She could feel Tommy willing himself not to roll his eyes. She tried to hold back a snicker, failing to notice he began to remove his shoes.

“I will admit that,” He placed his shoes and socks side by side at the edge of the lake. “But I think you may have to face punishment for poor sportsmanship.”

“Poor sportsmanship-” She was cut off as two strong arms wrapped around her waist. A squeak escaped her lips as Tommy lifted her into his arms and a scream erupted as they both plunged into the water. Her arms instinctively wrapped tightly around his neck, and her legs around his waist as they resurfaced.

“That punishment did not fit the crime.” she said, using her palm to rub the lake water from her eyes.

Tommy snorted with laughter as he brushed a strand of wet hair away from her face. “Then I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” She rolled her eyes at the platitude before moving Tommy’s wet hair off his forehead. She couldn’t help but giggle as she pushed the hair straight back. “What’s so funny?” he said. His smile showcased his prominent cheekbones. 

“Nothing,” she said, continuing to smooth his hair, “I just know what you’ll look like when you’re a bald old man.”

“You mean I’ll be dashingly handsome,” he struck a pose for her.

“Something like that she says,” she replied, unable to ignore the tranquility in his eyes as she combed her fingers through his hair. She knew those eyes well—beautiful eyes that could penetrate her soul and unearth every secret. From stealing money from her mother's purse to staying out late with the boy from her English class, those eyes knew everything about her. They had the power to hold her captive for as long as they desired. She almost forgot how entangled in her friend she was until he started to move them out of the water. She let her legs unwrap from around his waist and her arms detach from behind his neck. He pulled himself out of the water, helping her out with him.

Although the lake was not the most exciting place in the countryside of England, it was one of their favorites. They discovered this secret oasis nine years earlier. They had both decided to cut class that day to ride horses. The further they ventured from Small Heath, the fresher the air became, and the distant sounds of the city faded away. That was when they finally found their oasis, their lake. It has become their hideaway from reality. Tommy’s from the growing pressure of the Peaky Blinders and Y/N’s from the monotonousness that was Small Heath. 

She would rest her head on his shoulder as they watched the sun set. She always liked the way the sun streaked across the lake’s surface. 

“The sun’s telling us that we’re in our own personal heaven.” she would say, pointing at how the glittering rays of the sun hitting the lake seemed to be pointed perfectly at them. Tommy would smile and watch the joy in her eyes as she watched the sunset. 

On the oppressively warm days of summer between sessions of secondary school, Tommy and Y/N would sneak off together to the lake. Polly would roll her eyes and smirk as she watched the teens gallop away. 

“Fuck, I’m soaked.” Tommy said, noticing the way his clothes molded to his form. Y/N noticed it too, looking away when Tommy looked over at her. Tommy’s eyes remained on Y/N for another beat, noticing the way her white dress had now become transparent.

“I wonder whose fault is that.” Y/N said. Before Tommy could retort, Y/N pulled her dress over her head. Seeing Y/N in her knickers was a sight Tommy had seen many times, but he still couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks. She kicked off her shoes too before reaching out to Tommy, “Give me your shirt and trousers.” 

He snorted before beginning to unbutton his top, “Usually a lady needs to buy me a drink before we get to this part of the evening.” Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing Tommy’s clothes and hanging them up in a tree branch to dry. As soon as the clothes were settled in the branch, Y/N took the picnic blanket from her bag and laid it out. 

“After you,” She gestured towards the blanket. Tommy lay on his back, his eyes gazing at the sky. Y/N followed suit, observing whatever the sky decided to reveal to them. The clouds drifted by, and the wind whispered through the grass. Tommy's eyelids grew heavy, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

“Look!” His eyes shot open, “A bullfinch!” Y/N pointed up towards a red-breasted bird. Tommy rubbed his eyes letting out a snicker.

“You scared the crap out of me,” He said drowsily, “What’s so great about a goddamn bird?” 

Y/N shrugs and continues to stare at the bird as it lands on a branch.

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the bird as it took flight. "I don't know, it's rather beautiful, don't you think?" Tommy couldn't help but smile.

“And that, my dear, is why you will be a wonderful teacher.” It was now Y/N’s turn to smile at Tommy. With the summer coming to an end, Y/N’s first year of teaching primary school quickly approached. She felt like a kid herself in the sense that the first day of school jitters were already starting to pulse through her fingers and toes. 

“I hope so,” she said, allowing her arms to rest above her head as her fingers traced the dirt.

“I know so.” he replied, turning to look at her, “I also know that all the little buggers will adore you, especially the little boys.” Y/N playfully slapped Tommy’s arm.

“Very funny Tom,” she rolled her eyes at him, “If anything happens, I’ll make sure to tell James.” 

James. Of course she would tell James. Tommy shifted his gaze, fixing his eyes on the sky once more.

James was Y/N’s most recent boyfriend. He was nice. Very nice. Too nice, Tommy thought as a beat passed between the two of them.

“How is he?” Tommy asked, letting his eyes stay away from Y/N.

“Good,” Y/N replied, “It’s only been a few weeks but, I don’t know, I have a good feeling about him.” 

“I can tell, you two looked awfully chummy at The Garrison the other day.” Y/N’s face turns to Tommy.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” Y/N teased, “Making sure James is treating me well?” 

“It’s one of the perks of my job.” Now it was Y/N’s turn to look at the sky. 

Tommy had recently begun to become more involved in the Peaky Blinders. Y/N knew this day would come, it was the family business. She just always expected Arthur to take more of a leadership role, but in the back of her mind, she knew this was Tommy’s dream: to protect his family and provide them the life he always wanted. She can’t help but recall the young boy in the oversized clothes finding odd ways to help his family survive the cold winters. With him in charge, they both know the family will never have to worry about that again.

“How’s that going?” she asked, letting her hands rest on her belly button. 

Tommy shrugged, “Fine.” Y/N sat up, looking down at her friend.

“Come on Tom, I need more details than just ‘fine’.” He sighed, slowly sitting up to meet her eyes. 

“It’s definitely going,” He ran a hand through his drying hair, “I’m thinking we should invest in the race track.” She raised an eyebrow.

“You mean you’re going to be a horse gambler now?” 

“What do you want me to say?” he mumbled, “You know my father is gone. Finn is four, Ada just turned fifteen, John is getting fucking married and Arthur is hanging on by a fucking thread. This is the path we have to take.” She understood his predicament, that doesn’t mean she liked it.

“What about Polly? Could she take on more?” She felt as though she was pleading with Tommy. Begging him to sit back and let himself be a young man and do the normal things that young men do. 

“It’s my family, Y/N,” he said firmly, “It’s my job, not Polly’s.” 

“Well,” she looked away from him, “I hope you realize that this is a death sentence.” She knew her words cut him. She could feel all movement from him stop. 

“Why can’t you be happy for me,” his words come out almost as a whisper, “My family is finally making a name for itself. I thought you could at least pretend to be happy.” He was trying his hardest not to yell, but his frustration was getting the better of him. 

She looked back over at him, keeping the harshness in her eyes, “I can’t do that when my best friend is putting himself in danger.” That was when Tommy rose. He grabbed his clothes off the branch and began to dress himself.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, standing to face him.

“Going home,” he replied, beginning to mount his horse.

“Tommy-”

“Goodbye, Y/N.” he said, cutting her off, before riding off. Y/N sighed, taking a seat on the blanket. It wasn't their first fight—this was one of maybe one million. She knew how it would play out. They wouldn't speak for a day or two, and then either she or Tommy would knock on the other's door, ready to apologize. He needed space and she would let him have it. 

She gets home that day, hoping maybe Tommy would be at her door. He wasn’t. She sighed, bringing her horse to the stable before going inside.

That day turned into two, then a week, and eventually a month. Six months passed before she heard from him again.

Next chapter

Taglist:

@mrharringtonsbae

@mysticwitchcraftco

@globetrotter28

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy imagine #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fluff #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader

[cieloclercs]

grace , send me a trope + a character and i’ll write a short drabble from it

hii, can i please request best friends to lovers with ollie?

congrats on 1k btwww 🫶🫶

call me cupid — ollie bearman

pairing. ollie bearman x best friend!reader

word count. 2.7k (i swear i tried to make it short lmao)

warnings. kind of a weird fusion of fluff and angst ??? unrequited love vibes (that’s not actually unrequited but u get what i mean), pining ollie, pining reader, arthur lowkey is the mastermind, and is also sick of said pining, abrupt ending i’m sorry 😭

author’s note. hello anon! thank you so much for your request ☺️ i hope this is ok ! i know it cuts off quite abruptly, but i’d be open to writing a part 2 with the confession if you want one <3

read below the cut

He’s staring again.

It’s becoming a problem, but can anyone really blame him? You look nothing short of angelic under the strobe lights, your shimmering dress catching his eye every time you move. You’re dancing with a girl he doesn’t recognise, that beautiful smile he adores stretched across your crimson-painted lips. It makes him wonder what she’s saying to you to make you seem so content.

Best friends shouldn’t look at each other the way he’s looking at you now. Ollie knows that. Yet on days like today, he really can’t help it. This is your party, celebrating your third Formula 2 victory in a row. He’d watched from way back in P5 as you stormed through the field, fighting off every challenge your opponents tried to throw your way. There’s a reason the fans call you the Queen of Formula 2, after all. You’re practically untouchable. All it does is heighten his awareness of his own pounding heart whenever you’re around; turn his insides to velvet when you so much as smile his way. Yes, it’s becoming a problem — and Ollie isn’t sure there’s anything he can do to stop it.

“You know, I’ve just thought of something you should try.” A voice speaks up to his left, breaking him out of whatever trance you’ve unwittingly put him under. He turns. Arthur Leclerc stands like the devil on his shoulder, arms folded, expression unimpressed. When Ollie says nothing, he goes on, “It’s called talking to her. Works wonders, really, I’d highly recommend. It’s how I met Carla.”

The younger of the two rolls his eyes. Arthur is the only other living soul on earth who knows about his infatuation with you — officially, at least. In reality, almost everyone in the Ferrari Academy has long since figured it out. Everyone except you, ironically. But Ollie supposes it makes sense; why would someone like you ever even consider him as something more than just a friend?

“Can we not do this tonight?” Ollie sighs, exasperated, “I’m just trying to forget about…all of that for a moment.”

This time it’s Arthur who rolls his eyes. Ever since he first caught on to his friend’s crush on you a little over eight months ago, he’s been trying every method under the sun to try and make him see that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be so pessimistic about his chances. But the answer is always the same. Ollie remains convinced, like some poor, naïve, completely oblivious child, that you’d never so much as give him a second glance if he told you how he felt. It’s complete bullshit, of course. Arthur has seen the way your eyes search immediately for his after a race, be it a good result or even a bad one. He’s watched you brush off close friends (including him, many a time) even family members, to get to Ollie. But of course, Ollie himself doesn’t notice. No fool in love ever does.

“You’re not going to forget though, are you?” Arthur muses, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, “I know you, and I know you can’t stay away from her for that long. You’ll cave eventually.” he smirks. At the sight of Ollie’s pink cheeks, he knows he’s caught him out.

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else for a change?” the Brit grumbles. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Arthur could pick it out even in the pitch dark.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me.” he teases.

Within moments he’s cowered behind Carla on the other side of the room, chased away by Ollie’s (half joking) threats to crash him out of the next race on purpose if he doesn’t shut his mouth. But Arthur’s words stick with him throughout the entire night. Somehow, they always do.

In truth, Ollie's been grappling with the idea of telling you for quite a while; to put him out of his own misery more than anything else. He's sick and tired of the 'best friends' label. It seems so trivial, so reductive to say that it hurts him, when in fact, every time you refer to him as such, he’s sure you must be ripping his heart out of his chest. But then he can’t help but feel melodramatic — at least he has you, even if only as a friend. Even if you don’t love him in the way he loves you, you’re still there. Close, though perhaps not quite close enough. Ollie has decided not to take that for granted. He knows how easily it can be snatched away from him.

In the end (just as he always seems to be) Arthur is right — it’s not even an hour before he finds himself gravitating towards you; unwittingly being pulled into your orbit from which he fears, if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to escape. You’re hovering on the edge of a group of engineers now, sipping on a glass of sparkling water out of a straw. How you can appear drop dead gorgeous yet so damn adorable at the same time, he has no idea. Ollie feels he’ll be spending the rest of his life trying to figure you and your many layers out.

“Hi, Ol.” you greet him with a smile like the sun when he finally plucks up the courage to approach. He mutters something in reply, though as soon as the words have left his mouth he’s already forgotten them — he could have said something completely unintelligible for all he knows. That’s the effect you have on him.

“Having fun?” you prompt again, your soft smile spreading into a full-blown grin. Ollie glances briefly around the room. It’s absolutely packed full of Ferrari Academy members, both drivers and personnel. Normally, this kind of event would be his worst nightmare. Even if he’s known these people for years, the idea of having to socialise and look like he’s having fun makes him feel sick. But then he remembers all this is for you. It’s to celebrate your achievements in a male dominated field, which no woman has ever managed to do before. When he reminds himself of that, all his anxiety suddenly seems to melt away.

“Of course.” Ollie grins back. His heart soars to see you light up at his words, to see you giggle behind the rim of your glass and look at him as if he’s the only person in the world. At times like this he can truly believe that maybe Arthur is right — maybe, if he confesses, his world won’t come crashing down. Maybe you’ll light it up for the better.

“What happened to you at turn one? Nic told me you dropped out of the points." you go on, eyebrows furrowing with the remnants of confusion. Ollie had begun the feature race in P2 behind you, yet you'd find that the competition you'd so anticipated disappeared not even before the first lap had ended. The Brit sighs, shaking his head.

"I collided with Jack trying to defend." he tells you with a wince, "Damaged my sidepods."

Your expression twists into one of sympathy. There's almost no coming back from that, even for a driver as talented as Ollie. Still, you think, to climb back up to P5 after sustaining damage like that is no mean feat. You don't miss the way he flushes bashfully when you tell him as such.

"It was my own fault." he mumbles, trying desperately to cool the flames in his cheeks as you watch him, eyebrows raised. He always feels like he's been put under a microscope when you look at him like this. There's no escaping the calculation in your stare, the curious scrutiny. "I took too much of a risk."

You shake your head. There's the tiniest of knowing smiles on your lips. Ollie is always so hard on himself. It's something you both admire him for, and find yourself exasperated with; he never seems to be able to see how brilliant he really is -- or at least, how brilliant he is in your eyes.

"Well, whoever was at fault, it's a real shame." you dismiss with a wave of your hand, "I miss sharing the podium with you."

Ollie is sure he must be melting. He can't figure out if it's from your words alone, or from the tiny pout that's fallen on your lips, or even the soft glint in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Suddenly the proximity between the two of you seems to have all but diminished. He chuckles nervously.

"Next race will be ours." the Brit murmurs. Little by little you inch closer to him, your hand resting on the ledge you're leaning on, just ghosting over where his own lays flat. He breathes in sharply.

"Promise?" you whisper. The point of your heel bumps against his foot. Ollie glances down at it in a panic, before his head snaps up to meet your piercing gaze. He fears that if he rocks forwards only the slightest bit on the balls of his feet, he'll be close enough for his nose to bump yours. He's never felt so consumed, so intoxicated by another person in all his life. He can smell the honey scent of your hair, feel your warm breath tickling his cheek. His gaze flickers down for the briefest of moments to your lips - soft and pink, parted as if there's something else you want to say, but the words have gotten trapped in your throat.

"I promise." Ollie croaks.

Just one more step, you think. One more step, and he'll kiss you. He's so close, closer than he's ever been before, and suddenly you can see everything falling into place: all the nights spent crying on Arthur's shoulder, wondering whether Ollie is truly just scared as your friend says he is, or whether he simply doesn't feel the same. It will all fade into a distant, long-abandoned memory. Finally, you'll be able to call him something more than just your best friend.

But then he steps away.

You flinch, taken aback at his sudden movement. Ollie stares at you, wide-eyed, breathing heavily as if he's just run a marathon. He can't believe what's just happened — can't believe he was about to kiss you. How could he be so stupid?

"I —" he stammers. The look on your face is hard to decipher: shocked, confused, hurt. If Ollie looked a bit closer, he'd be able to see the last of those emotions, or the way your shock is mixed with a horrible sinking feeling of disappointment. But, of course, he doesn't see it that way. He's stuck on the same, poisonous idea that's been plaguing his mind ever since he first figured out his feelings — you don't feel the same way.

"I'm sorry." Ollie gasps. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you stood alone, arms half outstretched as if to try and stop him. You're too late, of course. Within moments he's out of sight. Gone, just like your hope.

"Well that was a train wreck." a familiar voice speaks up from somewhere on your left. You spin around, groaning as you spot Arthur, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed in what you can only imagine is frustration.

"You don't say." you drawl bitterly, glaring down into your empty glass. Wordlessly, your friend passes you his own half-full one. You lean down to sniff at its contents, and pull away, nose scrunched in distaste — definitely not water. But you think, at this point, you're owed some kind of distraction.

"Why does he keep running away from me?" you grumble. It's been months of this cat and mouse game now. Tonight is the closest you've ever got; the first time you've seen with your own eyes that Ollie does reciprocate your feelings. Yet it feels like for that step forward, all you've gone and done is taken another two back.

"Because he's an idiot." Arthur answers plainly. The Monégasque watches as you take a gulp of his drink, pulling a face at the burn in your throat, and wordlessly reaches forwards to take the glass back from your hands. He's grateful that you don't complain.

"Well I wish he'd stop." you mutter. As much as you're willing to wait for Ollie for as long as he needs, it's painful, having to go on loving him from a distance like this. Every time you lock eyes, the longing grows more intense. You're not sure how much longer you can take it.

"You know, you're just as bad as he is." Arthur speaks up. Once again, your head snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"You heard me." the Monégasque says with a sigh, "Look, I want to help you, I really do, but you could make all of this so much easier for yourself if you just tell him how you feel."

And there it is. You can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. It sounds so simple coming from Arthur’s mouth — so easy. God knows you’ve tried, time and time again, to be honest with Ollie about your feelings, to rip off the plaster in the hopes the pain of it won’t be too great; that he might just tell you he’s been trying to say the same thing all this time. But whenever you feel as if you might be ready, the words catch in your throat. You just can’t stomach them. It’s a kind of vulnerability you’ve never shown to anyone before, let alone someone who already means so much to you. At the end of the day, you’re still young. No matter how much you love Ollie now, the chances of him being the one are low.

At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself. But a part of you knows already — there’s no one else on earth you’ll ever feel this way about. Young or not, it’s always going to be Ollie.

“I don’t know if I can take that risk, Arth.” you say quietly, “If Ollie and I — if we’re not meant to be together…isn’t it better just to have him, even as a friend, than risk losing him entirely?”

You’re honestly not sure which is the most painful: having to pretend that you don’t love him, or the idea of one day not having him at all. Yet, you still know which one you’d choose — even if it hurts like ripping your own heart out of your chest.

“Huh.” Arthur says, eyebrows furrowing again. There’s something different in his expression this time, though. It’s less frustration, more a spark. As if he’s realised something you and Ollie may not have just yet.

“What?” you ask. Suddenly, Arthur begins to smile. You watch him disbelievingly, none the wiser as to what on earth he has to be so happy about at the present moment. Then he’s laughing, shaking his head as if in mirthful despair.

“You really are soulmates.” the Monégasque snickers, watching almost gleefully as you grow even more confused.

“What?” you ask again. Part of you begins to wonder if Arthur has lost his mind — you wouldn’t blame him after the game he’s been playing: acting as some sort of secret go-between in the middle and your and Ollie’s back and forth self-doubts. But Arthur hasn’t lost the will to live with it all just yet. In fact, he thinks he’s finally figured out how to make the both of you see sense.

“He said the exact same thing to me.”

And with that, Arthur turns on his heel, leaving you stood alone, your mind racing. All this time you’ve been trying to play the long game; trying to anticipate what Ollie is thinking, when in reality, your thoughts are practically shared. You’re both afraid. More than you ever have been in your life. But for the first time you begin to think, perhaps fear doesn’t have to be the dividing factor.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Carla Brocker asks her boyfriend as he retakes his familiar position at her side, still grinning like a child who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. Arthur says nothing, merely tilting his head in the direction of where you stand motionless. It only takes a few moments for Carla to catch on. She turns to face her boyfriend again, mouth hanging open.

“You think you’ve got through to her?” she whispers urgently.

Once again, Arthur Leclerc grins proudly.

“Just call me Cupid.”

#🪷 — rose’s 1k celebration! #request #ollie bearman #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman fic #ollie bearman fanfic #ollie bearman x oc #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x fem!reader #ollie bearman x fem!oc #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman angst #ollie bearman blurb #ollie bearman drabble #ollie bearman au #ollie bearman social media au #ollie bearman instagram au #ollie bearman twitter au #formula 2 imagine #f2 imagine #formula 2 fanfic #f2 fanfic #formula 2 x reader #f2 x reader #formula 2 x you #f2 x you #formula 2 angst #f2 angst #formula 2 drabble

[fandoms--fluff]

Dating Elijah Mikaelson Headcannons

It takes a little while for him to be openly vulnerable with you, but when he did, you're thoughts about his never changed, if only it made your feelings for him stronger

Hed be so damn protective of you

^especially if anyone even looks at you in a wrong way

You'd become quick friends with Kol, and you'd both made time in your days to make Elijah almost have a heart attack by conjuring up mischief

When you see he's stressed out, you sit on his lap and just wrap your arms around him, not saying anything

Now Elijah's a calm and collected guy, but as soon as you get royaly pissed at him for something, he'll be like 'Niklaus, would be so kind and dagger me'

A bunch of exasperated sighs from you when finding out about some stupid shit his younger siblings (mostly klaus) did

He loves holding you during the night, having his protective arms around your relaxed state

Him reading to you till you fall asleep

When it's pouring rain, you manage to drag him outside and after some pleading, get him to dance and spin you, getting soaked

Whenever Rebekah and Kol walk into the living room and see you guys cuddling, they immediately start acting half their age (biologically) - which end with a lot of 'bleh' faces

^especially when they see you kiss

He'd take you out to expensive restaurants to get away from all the drama for a couple hours

He loves spoiling you with gifts, even though each time he gets a lecture from you about how he doesn't need to get you anything

When he finds out you're friends with Katherine, his heart skips a beat (his face is also hilarious)

^both you and Kitty Kat laugh before going out, leaving the shocked Elijah in the same spot. Poor guy just found out the girl who he once had something with is your best friend. When you got back, you made sure to reassure him it's okay and that you know all about what happened in the past

Him having to physically restrain you from throwing a rock at a resurrected Mikael

He loves holding your face in his hands, looking into your beautiful eyes

Walking around town with him and whenever someone looks at you for too long (middle aged men or teenagers most of the time) they get Elijah glaring right into their soul. And if they even think about hitting on you, boy I feel sorry for them

Being in his arms is like a big blanket of security

Trying to get him to loosen up a bit and not be so serious all the time

^still a working process

Dancing in your guys' room or empty library with only some candle lights, creating a yellow hue while umyiu guys are in your own little world

The rare times he wakes from nightmares, you're comforting him straight away, with him in your arms

#elijah mikealson x reader #headcannons #elijah mikaelson headcannons #dating elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x female reader #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #thevampirediaries #theoriginals #cute

[coralinnii]

Under a mistletoe with them feat: Idia, Sebek, Epel, Cater genre: fluff note: relationships is up to interpretation, no pronouns were used, I have no idea how mistletoe traditions actually work so that’s something to note,

“Grim, would you please help me with the decorations?” You pleaded, exasperated with the lazy monster laying on the couch while you hung up lights in the living space. 

“Why should I? This was your idea anyway” Grim grumbled which left you to sigh. 

You realize that Christmas doesn’t exist in this universe (or at least your version of it, anyway) but feeling nostalgic and a little homesick, you thought decorating the Ramshackle dorm would bring your mood up a little…if your dorm mate would be a little bit more cooperative. 

“Well, the faster we finish decorating the faster I can get started on making cookies and some hot drinks” 

“Myrah, why didn’t you say so? This place will be Crust-mas ready!” the young monster was quick to his feet at the mention of a sweet reward, yanking the decorations around to hang them in a haste.

“It’s Christmas” you chuckled but decided with Grim motivated well enough, you thought you could head into the kitchen to get a head start of the treats you promised. You already told the cat-like creature where things should be. 

To be fair, you should have expected for things to not go as planned when the mistletoe you made in good fun falls atop of your surprise guest

Ortho convinced his brother to give his thanks in person when you offered to take his place for in-person presentation (Crowley refused to let him do it through his tablet). Idia figured he could quickly give his thanks then run back to his dorm. That’s fine, right?

He was close to a heart attack when the mistletoe fell on his head, poorly attached by Grim and you kept yourself from laughing while you plucked the decor from Idia’s flames. 

You explained the mistletoe and its old tradition, which Idia just can’t believe the gall of your world.

“What crazy normies would ever think of this nonsense?! You’re jumping someone with this boss-level task without warning or prep! That's practically mission impossible!” 

Despite the complaints, you saw that he didn’t move from his spot. He wasn’t trapped as he said he was and he could have walked away after saying his thanks, as he planned. 

So, you took the chance. Hovering the mistletoe between the two of you, you gently place your lips onto his pale cheeks. A light feather-like touch but it set the senior’s heart racing and hair ablaze as he stumbled back onto the cold pavement. 

Idia’s felt his body burn along his fiery locks as he clutched the fabric atop his chest in poor hopes to calm his speeding heart. His senses are going into overdrive as his mind replays the sensation of your soft lips on his cheeks over and over. He’s seen animes with lucky protagonists who get the chance like this and he's ashamed to catch himself occasionally switching the fictional couple as the two of you in his mind. But dreaming about it is vastly different from the real deal.

“T-This is why I can’t understand you extroverts, doing this like it’s no big deal! Don’t you have any mercy for poor souls like me?”

“Hey,” Idia flinched at the way you crouched to his sitting level, leaning your close to him. “Aren’t you being a little harsh?” 

“H-Huh?” 

“I wouldn’t do that with just anyone, you know?” You pouted before half-hardheartedly glared at the blue-flamed man, who couldn’t look away from such a cute sight “I did it because it’s you”

It was a Christmas miracle Idia didn’t pass out on your front porch. 

Sebek was on his way to drop off some blankets and other warm materials to keep you from freezing in the dilapidated building you and Grim call home. Afterall, your weak human body can’t possibly withstand the cold unlike him (which is true, but he shouldn’t just say it). 

He was about to go on another rant when he caught the decorative plant before it could touch his hair, appalled by the crumbling state of your dorm before you explained that Grim probably didn’t hang it properly. 

He questioned the strange plant in his hand and you explained an old-fashioned tradition from your world, to which made the mixed fae to blush profusely. 

He’s flabbergasted by the audacity of your world, to give away kisses so freely. He grew up learning the legend of a princess who shared her first kiss with her true love that broke her curse and he secretly hoped the same for his future love. 

“You humans are so imprudent, so flippant with something that should be treasured!” 

“Well, we don’t have to do it” you frowned, a little disappointed “Though, I wouldn’t mind it if it’s with you” 

Now, Sebek was caught in a dilemma. Despite all his expressed displeasure, the chance to finally kiss you literally fell on him and you’ve given your consent to him. It may not fit the expectations of his first kiss with (not that he has ever thought about, of course!) but he wonders if another chance like this would ever come again.

Coughing into his fist to cover his nerves, he straightened his posture but his line of sight shifted to the side, avoiding your gaze which shook his confidence. “Since it is part of your tradition, I would be a disgrace to Lord Malleus’ name to disregard such a thing as his knight” 

You would still have to be the one to close the gap however as Sebek shifted closer to you but with his eyes screwed shut and slightly shaking, he doesn't realize that he was still too far to reach your lips. 

You took pity on the poor boy and closed the gap yourself, your lips gently on his shaking ones. You felt the green-haired student flinched but you said nothing about it, opting to lean your weight onto his built body. You could feel the green-haired fae relaxed under your touch, slowly leaning towards you himself to prolong the intimate moment.

When you separated, you saw that Sebek was slow to snap out from his daze, taking a while to open his bright green eyes and realize you already leaned away. 

Quickly correcting his posture, he gave you a short goodbye and a nod before turning to walk back to his own dorm, taking quick but stiff steps at a time. You wondered if Sebek remembered that he still had the mistletoe in his grasp. You smiled, hoping to yourself that he would come back to return it.

Epel was making his way to your dorm with a crate of treats from his hometown. He was excited to share his family’s apple jam, hearing that you were planning to make cookies with jam fillings. 

But imagine his surprise when he suddenly saw a strange plant land atop of his crate when you opened the door, with you softly cursing Grim for his lazy decorating. 

You explain your reasoning for decorating and the strange plant to Epel and he suddenly felt the heat in his cheeks. Growing up without too many kids his age around, the idea of such a lovey-dovey tradition would never cross his mind. 

“….Does it happen a lot to you?” He carefully asked as he placed the crate down to inspect the plant, hoping not to sound too jealous of the idea of you kissing other people. It may be a silly tradition but still, having the idea of others having such a chance with you rubs him the wrong way. 

“Ah no, never” you replied, feeling a little shy. Despite making the mistletoe yourself, putting it up and doing it are two separate experiences. You explained that not many people do it anymore because “only the boldest” would ever go through with it, and you’ve never had such a chance. 

Epel saw this as a chance to prove his confident, masculine side. Boldly, Epel picked the mistletoe and placed it as high as he could between you two. With a cocky grin, he asked you “Wanna give it a try, then?”

Perhaps a little too enthusiastic, Epel crashed his lips onto yours a bit too harshly, shocking you from the pressure of the kiss. After the shock however, you found a rhythm between you two and you closed your eyes to fully indulge in the touch. Be it his natural genetics or Vil's regime, you enjoyed the feel of Epel's lips on your own which felt soft to the touch despite the dizzying passion behind it.

Epel was the first to move away, breaking the spell. He’s brimming with pride looking at your dazed expression. He picked up the crate once more, bringing it into the kitchen.

“Come on, I’m curious about the cookies you told me. Could I stay and watch?” 

You didn’t notice how the lilac-haired boy pocketed the mistletoe, already planning a trick or two that night. 

The redhead ordered a few magicam-worthy pastries but since he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, he thought you would appreciate them more than he would (plus he wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures too). 

When you opened the door, he was intrigued over the decor you and Grim put up and he had to stick around for some good shots when he felt a soft weight landing on his head. He saw the cute decor and asked you about it. 

The more you explained the old tradition of the mistletoe, the more excited Cater was. How could he not with such a cute premise and the picture-worthy opportunity he could have with you. He had to try it, with your consent. 

Since it was his idea (even though it’s your mistletoe), he decided to take the role as the initiator of the kiss. You trusted Cater so you closed your eyes and nervously waited for his kiss. 

But Cater instead took the time to admire your face. He watched how your hair complimented the frame of your face, the pretty shade of your lips, the curve of your nose he would love to boop, and especially the plumpness of your cheeks. 

He also saw the slight shake from your nerves, perhaps he made you wait too long, he mused. 

Slowly, he captured your lips in his with a sense of gentleness you weren’t expecting. You could swoon with how soft Cater’s touch was, how careful he was with you to ensure your comfort. 

The two of you separated, both a little light-headed from the experience. You felt hot from the sensation of the kiss but you can’t say you hated it. 

“Ooops, my bad” you heard Cater, which you worriedly looked to. Cater himself looked a little embarrassed but not too upset. 

“I totally forgot about taking pictures” you also realized that you didn’t sense the flash of his phone. Cater did pull out his phone this time and smiled coyly at you. 

“Mind if we do another take?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #idia shroud #idia x reader #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #epel felmier #epel x reader #cater diamond #cater x reader

[ghcstao3]

Hello! Anon who was just asking how the blog worked here, arriving with the first, (of probably many I’m not even going to kid myself here,) cod hc! Not so anon anymore haha!

Okay. Soooooo…..

Soap having a soulmate string for ghost.

Ghost not being able to see that string yet for some reason or another. (Hasn't realized feelings yet, just can't see them, something on his end has to happen first. Whatever the AU dictates)

For years soap has been notoriously awful at finding exfil without being explained the directions like 3 times.

But now that ghost and he are on a team? Soaps just starts using the string to get to exfil.

He doesn't tell anyone why his sudden and

significant improvement to finding the RV, but

Price sure is wondering.

Also the fact that this new found ability seems to

"randomly" completely disappear sometimes (on missions without ghost) I bet the first few times the Sargent regressed to his old ways Price nearly threw a fit.

Sillies ensue.

:D !!

this is such a cute idea

-

It’s not Soap’s fault he’s always had a poor sense of direction. Really, it’s not.

He’s done many things to try and offset the problem of finding exfil—notes landmarks and anything else that stands out, writes down directions when he has time, sketches locations when he has even more—but nothing ever seems to work. It’s just an issue so ingrained in him it’s nearly tragic.

Truly, it’s just a damn good thing he excels in every other area of his work. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t still be here, he’s certain.

But then Ghost appears.

He shows up with that stupid invisible red string trailing after him, surely looped around his ring finger as it is around Soap's, tying them together. Connecting their souls.

And he seems so intent on never bringing it up to Soap. He never even shows the slightest hint of acknowledgement.

But while Soap grapples with whatever that could possibly mean for him—mean for them—he finds a plus side to this string of fate.

No matter where they are for work, that red string always leads Soap back to Ghost. All the while, it just so happens that Ghost has a fantastic sense of direction. So even if the whole soulmates aspect doesn't quite work out, Soap finally has his solution.

...When he and Ghost work the same job, of course. Otherwise...

"Sergeant, get your arse moving! Where the hell are you?"

Soap winces at the Captain's voice in his ear. Deployed elsewhere for the first time since he and Soap had begun working together, Ghost is not currently present to offer Soap his usual invisible guidance. Which unfortunately means for Soap a berating from Price for making a very, very late exit.

"What happened back there?" Price will ask, even as they all make it home safe. "You're usually good at finding your way out," he'll say, and Soap will cringe at his words.

Because he's not, never has been. He just so happens to work with the man tied to the other end of his string, is all, really. But he can't just say that, can he?

"Sorry, sir," Soap will mumble out his apology. "Won't happen again, sir."

It will. It does.

Price is upset again the second time. He's just exasperated the third time and afterwards.

Then Soap is only assigned to missions alongside Ghost. Every so often, one without him, and suddenly Soap is essentially glued to Ghost's side day and night.

Price must have figured out the pattern, then.

Soap just hopes Ghost might figure it out soon, too.

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #writing

[micromoon]

Breaking point

Pairing: Steven Grant x afab!reader (mentions of Jake Lockley x fem!reader and Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, DNI!)

Warnings: established relationship, you know about all the moonboys and they know about each other as well, female masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, a hint of degradation, jealousy, power imbalance, Steven being a little mean and a cocky and jealous ass(is that considered a warning?), possessiveness, have I mentioned?; jealousy, deep throating, face fucking, spanking, a tiny little bit of double penetration, a tiny hint of humiliation kink?, a teensy tiny bit of angst

Summary: Steven is sick and tired of always being seen as the weakling of the moonboys, being pushed around by everyone around him. He is pent up and wants to let loose and just for once, he doesn't care about the consequences.

Disclaimer: I do not have DID, so if my depiction of it is wrong, please let me know! This is my first time writing after almost three years and im not a native speaker either, so please have mercy on my poor soul

Word count: approax 7k

It's been weeks since you actually got some time with Steven. Since you worked from home, you always had the opportunity to see all of them equally and even though Jake came out rarely, nowadays it's Steven you're missing to see. Whenever he comes back from work, Marc is fronting, telling you how Steven was too tired and just needed his time. You always respected it when the boys needed their space, but after almost three weeks you began to miss him more and more.

Of course, Jake and Marc did everything to distract you, in more than just one way, loving you, holding you, fucking you. Fucking you well. And often. It seemed to blow off the steam you had inside of you, the desire and yearning you felt for Steven, your eyes wandering to the mirror more than often, asking yourself if Steven was watching right now and if he enjoyed it.

You had no idea that he indeed watched. With a clenched jaw, his gaze hard and stoic, no emotion seen in his usually soft features. You writhed and squirmed so beautifully whenever one of them took care of you, your body flushed with lust and your eyes hazy with tears. They just seemed to always hit the spot, which Steven was able to as well, but he did it so lovingly that it never made you cry from pleasure. It made you shudder and shiver, made you smile and sigh, but not downright scream or moan, just how you did whenever you were with Marc or Jake.

And that made him jealous. More than he actually wanted to admit – because how did that sound? He was jealous of his alters, those who looked just like him but weren't him, in so many ways. It sounded stupid to him. Why didn't he just do what they did to you?

Because that wasn't him. Steven didn't have any anger boiling in his chest, nothing he had to release, it was always the same.

But since Donna decided to get to an even higher level of bitchiness, he knew it wouldn't take long for him to absolutely explode. It seemed like she just went to work to nag at him and boss him around, which he tolerated for way too long. The constant mocking of Donna paired with the jealousy of his alters finally got to a point he wasn't able to ignore anymore and so he decided, that it was time to finally blow off some steam.

“Would you, for once, do your god damn job, Steven? Stand by the shop and just shut up, no one wants to hear about your nonsense ramblings of the seven Ennead.”

Donna's annoyed voice reverberated inside of Steven's head, her voice reminding him of long nails dragging along a chalkboard – the noise absolutely hideous, ringing in his ears. He gulped. He could feel his blood pressure rising, just like it did all those days before, white noise slowly forming in his head, successfully drowning out Donna for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Nine, Donna. They are nine.”, he pressed through gritted teeth, sighing exasperated as he just shook his head at her ignorant behaviour. She huffed, chewing on her gum obnoxiously, “Seven, nine, whatever. I don't give a shit. What I give a shit about is how many of those sweets you'll sell, so get to fucking work or I'll make you do inventory again.” And with those words she disappeared from Stevens sight, making him roll his eyes as he lightly leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Just three more hours..”, he muttered to himself, gripping the little package of sweets so hard that it actually ripped. His eyebrows furrowed, visibly displeased with himself as he crouched down and collected the sweets, catching a glimpse of his own reflection, Marc staring back at him.

“You look pissed”, he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes as Steven glared at him, “Oh yeah, I actually am pissed, Marc. Do you want a price for figuring that out?”, he asked him back, his voice snappy which caused Marc to chuckle darkly.

“Damn, you really need to get your dick wet again. I can see the tension in your shoulders”, Marc commented, making Steven roll his eyes once again, but at Marc's next words, he stilled.

“Y/N misses you too, you know.”

Steven looked right back into the mirror, something changing in his eyes as soon as Marc mentioned you. There was desire, lust, but first and foremost – yearning. He yearned for you, so insanely much, but formerly, he felt so ashamed that he wasn't able to make you squirt or cum the way Marc or Jake were able to.

But that was over. Today he knew he was able to make you scream his name, only his, and not Marcs or Jakes. He was sure that tonight, he'd make you forget about both of them, only him occupying your mind and body.

“I do too. Tonight you won't be fronting and neither will Jake. No discussion about that.”, he said sternly, before standing up again and throwing the sweets into the trash, giving Marc no chance to answer and finally getting to concentrate on the task at hand: work.

While Steven was at work, you already finished yours. You cleaned the apartment, doing it all in one of Steven's shirts. You laid down on the couch, Steven's scent filling up your nostrils, causing you to lightly press your thighs against each other.

God, you missed Steven's tender and soft touch. You missed the way he caressed you, made love to you. He was different from Marc and Jake, that was obvious from the start, but that was exactly why you loved him. Even though you always had a feeling that he was holding something back, hiding something from you that he didn't want you to see. Whenever the two of you made love and he grabbed you a bit too harsh, he apologized as if he broke his aunts favourite porcelain, which always caused you to blink in wonder.

Was he afraid he could hurt you? Didn't he see how rough the other two were with you and how much you were able to take? Or did he not trust you enough for that?

You didn't know. But god, you wanted him so bad. You wanted him to lose his temper just once, so he was able to release all his stress at once. The thought of Steven getting dominant with you, manhandling you and pushing you into the positions he wanted caused your pussy to throb in need.

You took a deep breath, before putting your middle finger into your mouth to lightly suckle on it, pressing your thighs a bit harder together, to get even the slightest bit of friction to your clit.

When you deemed your finger wet enough, you pushed your hand underneath your panties, spreading your legs widely as you slowly started to circle your clit, imagining Steven's voice and touch. Slowly you started to move your hips against your hand, your fingers slipping between your wet folds as you circled your entrance once, collecting some of your arousal to spread it all over your pussy.

“Fuck”, you moaned, rolling your hips more and more, your other hand sneaking underneath Steven's shirt to play with your nipples and when you noticed that it got too hot, you took the shirt off and mindlessly threw it away.

You knew it didn't take long for you to cum, always having been rather sensitive, especially when it comes to your clit and just when you thought you could come, there was this noise.

Usually, you'd just continue, but not when you heard that sound. It was the familiar bell sound you set as the messaging sound for your boys. So you took your hand out of your panties, grabbing your phone and unlocking it.

Your heart almost skipped a beat when you saw who exactly send you a message, a giddy feeling spreading in your tummy, something that made your pussy throb even more than your fingers did just now.

“I can't wait to see you tonight, my dear. - S”

The smile that spread all over your face was out of this world and you immediately sat up, forgetting about the orgasm you almost had and just focusing on the message.

“Me neither, Steven. Please come home quickly.”, you sent back, quickly standing up and hopping underneath the shower. If you were desperate for his touch, you were absolutely certain that he was dying for yours. So without thinking twice, you made yourself ready, putting on the body lotion you knew Steven loved and a plain shirt – knowing that he was the type to prefer you absolutely naked.

But in your rush and excitement, you actually didn't notice how you didn't grab Steven's, but Marc's shirt.

Of course. Just when Steven's shift ended, it had to rain. But not the soft rain, no, it was pouring, wetting him to the bones and making his clothes cling to him uncomfortably. Quickly he hurried to the apartment complex, adamant to get inside fast.

“For fucks sake”, he growled underneath his breath, shaking his head right before stepping into the entrance hall. It was so quiet that it was audible how much he was dripping, the floor underneath him getting slippery and squeaky.

Steven opened the door to your shared apartment. Firstly, it was just his, but after a few months of dating you decided that living together would be a good thing. Especially as you wanted to get to know all of his alters individually, in a space where all of them felt safe enough to talk and be the way they really were.

You heard the door open, your body immediately moving as you walked towards the living room, where he just came in.

“Hey Steven!”, you smiled all happily, about to run to him, but you stopped yourself when you took a better look at him.

And immediately you noticed how something was off. He didn't greet you with the usual chirpy voice of his – very much the opposite, he just stared at you. In disbelief almost. Your eyebrows raised as you looked him up and down. Something about him looked different too. His whole demeanor was not how you were used to it, he stood differently, his back straight and his eyes harsh on your face.

No, not your face. He looked at your body.

A little insecurely you looked down at yourself, fearing that you had a disgusting spot on it from snacking, but when you noticed that there was nothing, you looked back up at him. You tilted your head to the side, stepping a little closer to him reluctantly. Was that even Steven? He didn't look like Steven, nor did he ooze the aura Steven usually had.

“Marc?”, you asked, your voice a little meek as you didn't know what to do out of his reaction – or well, the lack of it.

“Maybe Marc's who you wanted and expected, but no, it is indeed me, Steven.”, he clarified, his British accent thicker than usually, his hair dripping from the rain outside. His words kind of stung in your heart. Why did he say that? You never favored any of the boys over the other, you loved all three of them equally.

“Why would you say that?”, you asked him now, your voice a little thinner than usually and he just huffed a bit, taking off his bag and running a hand through his soaked hair. He looked at you as if it was obvious why he said it, something almost mocking glimmering in his eyes. He took his jacket off and hung it in the bathroom, before coming back to you, his shirt clinging to his toned torso, making him look deliciously buff.

You hated how your pussy clenched at the thought of his soft skin underneath your palms. You were just getting lost in the thought of his hands on your body as he suddenly cut you off with his voice, the question you asked just moments ago almost forgotten.

“Why are you wearing his shirt then?”

The question hit you like a brick. Slowly you looked down at yourself and realized that he was indeed right – you wore one of Marc's favorite shirts.

Not that it was a very big kind of deal, but you noticed already that he always somehow ushered you to wear his clothes when he was fronting.

Was that an ego thing?

You didn't know, but the way Steven got so possessive, no, downright pissed already, because of you wearing Marc's shirt sent shivers down your spine.

To say that you were a brat was an understatement – you had a lot of fun teasing Marc and Jake, only with Steven you never were able to bring yourself to do it, as he was always so sweet and gentle with you.

But this Steven? He was different. And so your inner brat was sparked.

“I just took the first I saw”, you tried to defend yourself, a tiny pout on your lips, trying to make yourself look more alluring and innocent to him, as much as it was possible.

Usually your big puppy eyes always made Steven cave in, but not this time. He looked at you as if your little attempt on calming his nerves didn't even touch him. Slowly he walked up to you, his gaze piercing through you almost as he raised his hand.

The way he looked at you, his whole form still wet from the rain and his aura so dark and intimidating – it made the air around the two of you thicken, the tension rising more and more, leaving you absolutely speechless. Your heart stopped beating for a moment, you were so insanely curious what he'd do next, there was nothing you could expect from him right now as he wasn't how he usually was.

But you were ever so sure that he'd caress your cheek now, saying that he'd understand and that it was a stupid thing of him to get so mad over, but no.

You couldn't be further from the truth.

Because Steven's other hand raised as well, grabbing right into your collar to rip the shirt that you were wearing to pieces.

A loud gasp left your mouth, your eyes almost widening comically as you looked down at yourself, stripped absolutely bare as the little pieces of fabrics fell on the floor, leaving you in your panties only, as you never wore a bra at home.

The sound that left Steven's mouth was amused, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he watched his little artwork.

“'Atta girl, that I like better”, he'd smirk, his eyes meeting yours as his own glistened cheekily. You were still absolutely shocked by the display of sheer power and dominance, standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.

It made Steven chuckle, the sound deep and raspy, making goosebumps rise all over your skin.

And even though you thought this was insanely hot from him, one wasn't as turned on as you.

“What the fuck Steven?! That was one of my favorite shirts!”, Marc protested loudly, his face being seen in the mirror that stood in the living room.

Suddenly, the amused look of Steven vanished within seconds, Marcs appearance annoying him immediately. Steven's eyes met Marcs and with a light huff, he rolled his eyes.

“Grow up, mate.”, he told him, “It's just a shirt. Now get out of my face.”, he demanded, grabbing his rubiks cube and shamelessly throwing it against the mirror, making it shatter and fall onto the floor.

You watched all of this shocked, but you didn't dare turn around to the mirror. You were sure that if you did, you'd anger Steven even more. And something told you that you didn't want to anger him that much.

Finally, he looked back at you, his eyes immediately changing as they were filled with lust. He only needed to look at your bare body, so vulnerable right in front of him. It was enough to get him going, his cock already starting to get hard.

“Get on the bed, love.”

He didn't need to tell you twice, within the blink of an eye you were on your shared bed, your panties already clinging to your core.

When he followed you, you expected him to join you on the bed, lay you down and eat you out, because this was what he always did. He always cared for your pleasure first, made you come multiple times before even thinking of taking something from you.

So without even thinking twice, you made yourself comfortable, laying down with your head on your pillows and your legs spread. But when Steven entered the room and saw the way you lied there, he couldn't help but chuckle.

“If that's an invitation, I must decline.”, he told you matter off factly, as he slowly took his watch off, not even sparing another glance in your direction. His response to your vulnerable position shocked you, but what shocked you more was the electric feeling that was sent to your pussy as soon as he downright refused you.

It sparked something in you, wanting him to want you even more than before. You squeezed your legs together, a small whimper leaving your mouth as you leaned forward and closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“Steven, please”, you tried with the sweetest voice you could muster, but Steven didn't even react. At least not the way you wanted to.

He looked at you, his expression still as amused ever as he lightly tilted his head to the side.

“The headspace of us three has some benefits, did ya' know that, love?”, he suddenly started to explain, as he walked towards the bed, taking long and slow steps.

“For example the thing that we're able to hear whatever our alter is hearing if we're close enough to fronting.”, he continued, his eyes raking over your form, his gaze stopping at your lips for a moment, before he looked right into your eyes.

Finally he raised his hand and put it on your cheek, gently caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, as he looked at you almost apologetically.

“So all your begging that you do to Marc and Jake is nothing new to me”, he told you as he was talking to a little pet that he had to teach wasn't able to get what it wanted by just looking cute.

His words left you speechless. Begging was something that made Marc and even Jake cave in eventually. If that wasn't working with Steven, what to do now?

“But-”, you wanted to protest already, but he shook his head, immediately shutting you up without even having to say a word. What was it about this cocky Steven that made you speechless without any effort?

Maybe it was because whenever you talked back to Jake or Marc, both of them reacted the same – loud, explosive almost. Their punishment was immediate, they even announced it beforehand. But you had a feeling that Steven wasn't that way. His anger was quiet and seething, he was one to strike when you least expected it.

And you had no idea if you were able to handle that today, after being apart from Steven for so long.

“Today you'll be a good girl for me”, he suddenly started, his thumb slowly pressing down on your bottom lip so you'd open your mouth. He forced his thumb inside of you, his eyes darkening immediately as he felt the warmth of your mouth.

“Because if you won't, you'll regret it heavily.”, he said, his words almost cutting through the thick air that was collecting in the whole room. The tension was unbearable and it made you melt, made you putty right in his hands even though he didn't even touch you properly.

“Okay Steven”, you breathed out, your lips curling around his thumb as you gently began to suck on it, causing him to smirk.

“Oh no, you shouldn't waste your stamina on my thumb”, he told you, before slipping it even deeper into your mouth to make you gag, the cheekiest grin on his lips. It made your eyes water, but not only because of him pushing his thumb so far down your throat, no. It was because he was belittling you so much too.

“Get on your knees”, he suddenly instructed you and without thinking twice, you slipped from the bed and right between his legs, attempting to open his pants and yank them down immediately, but Steven stopped you just when you wanted to pull them down. “Easy there, tigress. I told you to get on your knees and nothing more. Didn't I tell you, you should be a good girl today?”, he asked you as he looked down at you. The position made who was in charge here painfully clear and so you gulped lightly, your hands on your lap now as you nodded.

“Sorry”, you hummed quietly, but Steven had nothing of that. He grabbed your jaw and made you look up at him again, his eyes sharp.

“Proper sentences, love. Might as well use them for as long as you can.”, he said, the grin on his lips more then audible. His dark promise made you gulp once again and your pussy throb, your eyes focused on his, as you opened your mouth:

“I am sorry, Steven. That won't happen again.”

He nodded at your words, before letting go of your jaw as his eyes were still on you.

“Now get my cock out and get it nice and wet, yeah?”

You didn't need to hear that twice as you straightened your back and opened his pants, reaching right into his underwear to pull his cock out. You almost moaned at the sight of it, your mouth salivating as you put it into your mouth.

Steven's reaction was immediate, there was a loud sigh leaving his mouth as he lightly bit down on his lip.

“God fuckin' finally, 's been too long love”, he muttered darkly, his eyes focused on you as you licked over his tip, your hands working on the rest of his cock.

You did your best to please him, stroking him the way you knew he loved it and sucking right underneath the tip of his cock – knowing that it would drive him insane. You were so sure he was far gone already, his head tossed back and his adam's apple bobbing up and down all quickly.

But when you looked up, you were only met with his dark and lust-filled eyes, you were genuinely surprised. You thought he was already losing himself, but no he hasn't even budged a little bit. But that didn't dampen your spirits, quite the opposite, you instantly sat up a bit more and took a deep breath through your nose.

As if Steven was able to feel what you were about to do, he raised his eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth lightly twitching up as he tilted his head to the side.

“Oh?”, he hummed, as you looked deeply into his eyes and put your hands on his meaty thighs, squeezing them softly, before starting to swallow his cock fully, making you gag and your eyes sting with tears.

The moan that ripped from Steven was loud and genuine, his head tilting back for a moment as your nose hit his pelvis. His hair tickled your nose for a moment, but you didn't mind, you held your position as you never looked away from his face, loving how his cheeks finally dusted in a slight red.

“Fuck, you're swallowing my cock like a little slut”, he suddenly hissed loudly, which made you almost gasp, your throat tightening around his length as you looked up at him wide-eyed. Usually Steven never called you names, he only ever praised you, calling you his goddess and his good little girl. But this, this was new from him. The dirty words paired with his British accent almost sent you to overdrive.

Steven licked his lips when he felt how you reacted to his words, his eyebrows raising. “Oh, do you like to be called my little slut?”, he asked you, a taunting lilt to his voice, his eyes twinkling dangerously. “Of course you do. Look at yourself, taking my cock so deep down your throat that you gag and cry”, he continued with his crude words. “But this, this isn't a proper reason to cry yet”, he hummed deeply as he put his hand on your cheek, keeping you from pulling away.

“Remember, three hard pinches on my thighs if you need to tap out”, he reminded you, a sliver of the Steven you knew shining through, but when you nodded at him, it was gone as quickly as it came, his eyes darkening again.

“I want you to take what I am giving to you now without any complaints”, he suddenly said before he leaned forward, making your back meet the end of the bed, your neck on the mattress now. You had a premonition for what was about to come and when he put his foot on the edge of the bed, next to your head, you were sure that he wanted to do what you thought he'd do.

“Im going to fuck that pretty little face of yours now.”, he smirked, his voice all deep and lust-filled. He felt like he was on a high, the way he was able to dominate and overpower you so easily made him feel absolutely euphoric. He looked down at you for one last time to catch you nod for a moment and then he started to move.

When he said he was about to fuck your face, he really meant it. The way his hips snapped into your mouth was ruthless, his moans loud and unabashed. His balls met your chin over and over again, his smell was surrounding you like a thick layer that was slowly coaxing you to lose yourself.

All you could breathe, taste, smell and see was him, rendering you motionless – only able to take what he gave you over and over again. The way he was fucking your face shouldn't have turned you on the way you did, but you couldn't help yourself, all of Steven turned you on in this moment, even if he was a little mean to you.

So without being able to fight it, you put one of your hands between your legs, trying to ease the ache between your legs while the other hand held onto his thigh.

“Bloody hell this is absolutely fantastic!”, he groaned, his eyes rolling back as the sounds of your mouth doubled his arousal, “Your throat was made for fucking, even if you're gagging like that, you're still taking it, taking all of my thick cock”, he hummed all pleased, his eyebrows furrowed as he got lost in the pleasure that your hot throat provided, your tears running down your face without a break.

It didn't take long for you to struggle with your breathing, your eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen slowly got to your head, making you feel light-headed, even your fingers on your cunt stopping to move and just when you thought you'd faint, you were suddenly pulled back.

Steven's hand was around your throat as he pressed you into the mattress, his cock right in front of your face, your nose touching it. He panted, his face red and covered in sweat, one droplet of it running down his neck.

“My my, little one, who said you could just tap out like that?”, he mocked you, his voice a little hoarse as he sounded slightly out of it and you were the cause of it. It made you smile all dazedly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. “Could never”, you croaked out, another tear falling down your cheek which he caught with his thumb, wiping it away almost lovingly.

“Mhhm, you're right. I'm not done with you yet either.”, he smirked, suddenly grabbing your body and pulling you up only to hoist you back on the bed.

You had to regain your composure as you turned around because what you saw almost made you salivate yet again.

There he was, looking absolutely fucked out, with his damp hair slicked out of his face. But something annoyed you – he was still fully clothed.

“Steven”, you whined, your lips all red and swollen from him fucking your mouth, “Please, your clothes”, you continued, your gaze meeting his, “Please take them off, I wanna see you so badly”

Your words made Steven smile, all drunk in pleasure as he slowly put his hands on the hem of his shirt, taking it off of his body, revealing his muscled torso and the delicious happy trail that lead to his cock. He didn't say anything as he took his pants and underwear off as well. You could tell that he let off some steam by him fucking your throat that roughly. It eased you, as it loosened the tension a bit.

“Happy now?”, he asked you and you nodded all eagerly, already getting on your knees to get to the edge of the bed to maybe be able to touch him. But he beat you to it, coming closer and allowing you to touch him, your hands running over his pecs, down to his happy trail that you loved so much.

“Missed you so much Steven”, you breathed out shakily, leaning to his chest to press a kiss there, “So fucking much”, you added and suddenly you could feel both of his hands on your cheeks to pull you up and kiss you deeply.

“I missed you to bits as well, my dear”, he hummed against your lips, “But I missed fucking your cunt as well”, he added cheekily, biting down on your bottom lip before tossing you on the bed again, turning you around and grabbing you by the back of your knees to pull you on your knees.

“And now I am going to take what I wanted for so long”, he grumbled, not noticing how he aligned you to the mirror, a devious smile on his lips.

“Yes please, take me.”, you mewled, lightly swaying your hips from left to right. His calloused hands followed the line of your thighs, up to your hips to grab your panties and rip them off of your body. You could only gasp, but the action was long forgotten as he spanked your ass once.

He spread your cheeks, leaning down to watch your pussy which was absolutely ruined by your arousal. It spread so much that even the inner of your thighs were wet.

“Fuck, love,”, he groaned, “Did me fucking your face turn you on that much?”, he asked you, slapping your core once, making you whine loudly.

“You look like you wetted yourself”, he noted, a devilish chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Still gotta prepare that hole of yours, otherwise Imma rip it”, he hummed deep in thought, pushing two of his fingers inside of you without even thinking twice. You gasped loudly, gripping the sheets tightly as you moved your hips in sync with the motion of his fingers.

“Feels so good Steven, mhh, please”, you moaned loudly, your cheeks getting all warm already. He didn't wait long to scissor his fingers inside of you as he got impatient himself, just wanting to finally be buried inside of you, so without further ado, he added a third finger.

When he deemed you stretched out enough, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, slapping your hole once and smirking at it and the sound it made as well.

“Absolutely perfect”, he complimented you, before spreading your arousal all over his cock. He pumped himself once, twice and then he stopped as an idea came to his mind.

It was quiet suddenly and for a moment you thought there was something wrong, so you looked over your shoulder, your eyes furrowed in worry. But when you saw Stevens heavy-lidded gaze, you gulped a bit.

“'s your safe day, innit?”, he asked you, the words slurred and you knew exactly why. It was one of Stevens favorites. Creampies.

“Hmm, yeah, I am. Just put it in, please”, you hummed, arching your back so your pussy was even more bared to him.

“Fuck me”, he growled underneath his breath, aligning his cock to your entrance, slapping it once before he pushed into you in one swift motion.

It made both of you moan in unison, both of your eyes rolling back at the familiar feeling of his cock inside of you and your pussy around him.

“Fuck”, you moaned, holding onto your sheets tightly as Steven went at it at an alarming pace. He didn't waste any time, it was obvious that he missed the tight grip of your pussy as he was fucking into you like a mad man.

This was something you definitely weren't used to, especially from Steven. He usually made love to you, took you gently and tenderly. But nothing about his thrusts was gentle or tender this time. They were ruthless and unforgiving, not giving you any time to cope as he grabbed your hips harshly, pressing you all close to his pelvis whenever he pushed his cock into you.

It felt like he was using you as his little cock sleeve, chasing after his own high and pleasure and somehow, that wasn't a problem to you. It actually made you feel on fire, the way he was so into you and crazy for you that he couldn't even hold back anymore and just took what he wanted.

As his thrusts were so rough, you almost saw stars when he finally angled himself so he was able to hit that delicious spot inside of you. The scream you let out was shattering and you were sure that the neighbours would file a complaint against the two of you.

But you couldn't care, not right now, not when he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

“Yes! Fuck, Steven, just- right- right there!”, you stuttered loudly, your eyes rolling back as you pulled a loud laugh from the man behind you.

“Right there my puppet?”, he growled lowly and you nodded, his hand hitting your behind once more, making you gasp out loud. The whole bed moved with his movements, your temperatures increasing more and more.

Suddenly you could feel how he grabbed the back of your head by your hair, pulling you back and revealing your face to the mirror that was in front of you.

“Fuck, look at her, she's such a whore”, he grunted deeply, “Looking absolutely fucked out while taking my cock”, he grinned widely and wouldn't you feel like your brain was being fucked out, you would have noticed the way he wasn't talking to you.

He was talking to Marc and Jake, who where watching the two of you going at it like animals, both of them absolutely speechless.

“Now I finally get why you're so adamant on treating her so roughly, fuck, she absolutely loves it!”, he declared all delighted, his eyes twinkling before he let go of your hair, letting you crumble down like a house of cards. If it wasn't for the grip of Steven's hands on your hips, his cock would have slipped out, but of course, he couldn't let that happen.

“I am able to fuck you so good too, right, my love?”, he asked you, his voice heated and you could only nod, chanting “Yes yes yes, you can!”, without being able to think of any other answer.

It was satisfying enough for him to make clear to the both of them that he was able to fuck your brains out just like the two were able to.

While he fucked into you, he looked down at your cheeks, loving how they moved with every thrust of his and suddenly, he got an idea.

He knew you enjoyed your asshole being played with, since the day he rimmed you once and you almost came immediately.

“Spread your cheeks for me”, Steven suddenly demanded from you. Your hands instantly flew to your cheeks, grabbing them and spreading them apart to show him your rimmed hole.

Steven couldn't help but smirk, slowly licking his lips before gathering all of his saliva to spit it right on your rimmed hole. You moaned softly, your ass wiggling in anticipation.

He took one of his hands from your hips, licking over his middle finger before putting it on your puckered hole, circling it and causing you to scream almost.

“Oh my god fuck, fuck Steven!”, you cried out loudly, feeling your orgasm approach immediately.

He could tell by the way your walls tightened around him, squeezing his cock tightly, causing his high to come as well.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock”, he grunted deeply as he still fucked into you, feeling how his balls tightened as he was about to cum, but not before you came.

So he slowly slipped the tip of his middle finger into your asshole, that paired with his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again, made you fly face first into one of the most body numbing orgasms you ever felt in your life. Your vision turned white as you screamed out his name, your cunt still being used by his cock as he rode out your orgasm.

Suddenly he took his hand away from your abused hole, grabbing your hips tightly to give you a few more harsh thrusts, before spilling all for what he was worth inside of you. With a loud and dark moan he filled your insides absolutely white, leaning over you and kissing your shoulder, while still being deeply nestled inside of you.

The both of you were out of breath, panting and trying to regain your power as Steven pulled out of you and rolled beside you, laying on his back now while you were still on your stomach.

It was quiet between the two of you, but to your surprise, it wasn't uncomfortable. You finally understood why he was acting like that and just now you realized that he talked to Marc and Jake when he took you from behind.

There was a tension coming off from Steven, even though there was no trace of his anger anymore, but you could only assume that it was because of his behavior. But you wanted him to know that there was nothing to feel bad for, so you tried to inch closer to him to kiss his lips.

“I love you, Steven”, you whispered against his lips, causing him to bite down on his own for a moment.

“Wasn't I too rough?”, he asked you now, a tiny hint of insecurity in his voice.

“Not at all”, you immediately gave back, “You can't ever be too rough on me, Steven. You know I love all of you, even your mad side”, you assured him, “Besides, I doubt I ever came this hard in my life, so please, don't worry about it.”

That made Steven cackle lightly, his eyes twinkling mischieviously.

“Thank god, because I doubt that I can go a long time without fucking you like this.”, he told you now, before getting up and curling his arms around your body to hoist you up.

“But now you'll take a loo, we'll shower together and then we'll get comfortable with some snacks, yeah?”

“I'd love that a lot, Steven.”

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #smut #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #oscar isaac

[eldritch-spouse]

Say hello to your Valentine Cero!

TW: Noncon; Kidnapping; Manipulation.

[Fem reader.]

It's hopeless. The more time you spend in this room, the less resistance you have to offer.

" Sign it. "

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

There's a thunderous slam, the demonlord's hands clawing at the regal marble table and making a horrible, squealing noise. It rings in your ears, grating, shredding the gray mass of your already muddled brain.

" Tsk. "

He fiddles with a remote control outside your line of sight, and suddenly, you're arching against silken binds, shuddering hard enough to make the very chair you sit on tremble while the potent vibrator tortures your poor, overstimulated clitoris.

The noise that erupted out of you was something between a wounded animal's dying bleat and a wheeze. Ugly. Yet apparently very pleasing to the pride demon, whose scowl twitches into a grin for a second.

" Why must you insist on making this so much harder than it has to be? "

A long, flowing purple cape is flicked into place as he gets up, pacing.

" Do you not realize how good of a deal this is? " He's genuinely exasperated, sharp eyes looking at you as if you're showing clear signs of sustained head injury. " Must I spell it out? You can read, can't you? "

To be fair, even if you could when this bizarre encounter began, you've long since lost the coherence to read or interpret most of anything. The letters on the contract in front of you are nothing but squiggly black smudges twisting and floating on a fancy page, incomprehensible. They might as well be hieroglyphs by now. You recall what it is perfectly however.

A marriage contract.

A very weird, dodgy, skeevy one.

You don't even remember what put you here to begin with. You only know you bumped against an inordinately tall demon outside yesterday. In a rush, you were focused on a receipt and didn't look where you were going, knocking into him only to fall like a buffoon. The embarrassment was so intense that you didn't even look up, ushering out a string of apologies before collecting your belongings and dashing away with burning cheeks. It must have been him. It could only have been the Icon of Pride that you bumped into yesterday. That horrendous misfortune is the only incident you can think of to justify where you are right now.

In a stupidly opulent dining room, bound to a padded chair, lower half bare and currently being tortured.

Granted, this humiliating treatment only started when you refused to sign. You're not sure how much time has passed since then, with orgasm after draining orgasm being forced out of your sweaty body, while the unempathetic demon sat opposite of you, waiting, taunting, demanding you sign it.

Of course you didn't.

Although the calligraphy in it was nothing short of exuberant, it read like the whole thing was drafted in a rushed stupor. Like whoever made it, Di Cero, the demon in front of you presumably, was trying to meet a particularly stressful deadline. Sentence structuring is eloquent but impatient sounding, certain features which should be clearly explained are glossed over, and the number of concerning clauses detailing your level of autonomy as his supposed spouse are worrying. Not to mention the "scheduled worship sessions", whatever the fuck that implies. You could swear there was a mention of your soul somewhere… Buried in disgustingly self-flattering paragraphs of pure nonsense. It's as if he doesn't know what a partner is.

You were initially flattered, in a very unhealthy way. Scared and flattered, to be honest. Now you're just horrified. He wants you to sign a contract wherein you become his wife, Queen of Pride, as well as a strange sort of personal worshiper. What a fucking trip to wake up to.

The enigmatic paper in front of you is swiped away before saliva could reach it.

“ Ugh, you’re drooling on it. “ Cero sneers, and although you miss it entirely, a hint of deep satisfaction shines in his eyes from having you in this state.

He examines his own work briefly, this smarmy smirk on his face, as if he’s never read a finer legal agreement in his entire life. “ Really, I made it as clear as day, the terms are perfect, I’m even letting you use my personal pen. “ Something in his expression conveys that it's supposed to be a huge honor. 

You glare at the thing, trying to distract yourself from the awful zings of stimulation, the loud buzzing echoing through the room and your own ragged breathing. Cero crowds you, exerting further pressure. The pen he mentioned is a touch too big for you, though that’s only natural, he’s quite the large demon, and you’re only a human. You’ve yet to touch it at all, but it looks heavy, a sleek black design you’re sure must be made of some well-known Hell mineral, featuring intricate curls of gold along the surface. The end of it has a strange form, like its… Oh. It’s a makeshift lancet. For the blood print part of the signature.

The demonlord rolls his eyes in a much too exaggerated manner, waving. “ Go ahead, I'll untie you, you can use it, really. “

Yeah, as if bashfulness is what’s keeping you from legally fucking yourself over. Handing your life to this tyrant in written form.

“ N- No. “

You’re not sure what the point of this is anyway. He could just place a blade to your neck and force you to sign, point a gun to your temple, even a slap from this creature could be dreadful enough to break something at full force. This must be extremely amusing to him.

A pause follows, almost lulling you back into an animal trance.

" No?! "

His booming snarl is the most frightening thing you've ever head, instincts begging you to shut the fuck up and sign already. Nothing's on your side here, it seems.

Your chin is suddenly pinched between two sharp needles, forced to face the fuming demon. " You ingrate! Brainless thing! Do you still not realize what I'm offering you?! " There's no response save for gasping and rapid blinking. " I'm feeling extra generous today, so I'll spell it out for you. Look at me and listen good- "

The vibrator working diligently inside you is all but yanked out. Thankfully, you're a wet mess by now, so it merely slides off with a disgustingly lewd noise. Instead of being ashamed however, you're sighing and slumping like a sack of potatoes, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Finally. Finally, some semblance of sweet, sweet mercy. Limbs tingling and half-numb, your body begs for the rest it's being denied by the alarm bells in your head.

Cero turns the white device off, and for a moment, the look on his face softens. As if he's truly lost track of what he was going to do with it. Much to your surprise, a very pale pink muscle peeks out between rows of gnarly teeth. You can only blink and watch as the Icon of Pride slides the shaft of the thing into his own mouth and licks it clean with a vigor shameless enough to set your cheeks even more aflame. You can see a very clear imprint of his excitement jumping in his odd skin-tight pants... What the fuck is his damage? It's only after a couple moments of this disgusting display that he appears to wise up, quickly releasing the toy, crushing it in his grasp, and tossing it behind him. There's a noticeable flush to his mostly chalk-white face, the demonlord looking genuinely angry at himself for a moment.

While the recovery was anything but smooth, Cero's grip on your chin tightens, painfully, and his stern demeanor surfaces once more.

" I've taken you from your sad excuse of a life to be a woman of value, of purpose- At my side, you shall be worshiped until the end of Pride itself, you will hold the admiration and respect of all demons under me, and you will know nothing but the very best life has to offer. Do you understand? "

Staring into those acidic rose pools, you realize he's being utterly serious, no room for mockery or nonsense in them. You have no idea why he's laying this much power at your feet, why he wants you of all people to fulfill this role. He could have anyone, he could have better, so much better. What sets you apart for him? What makes him think this is the type of thing you want from life? Well, that's easy to answer, of course the Icon of Pride isn't thinking about how you feel.

" Do you understand? " Is repeated through grit teeth.

" Y- Yes. "

" Good. "

Di Cero squats to be more at your level, an act that might mean nothing to you now but will be recognized in the future most likely, the pads of his fingers rubbing over your overstimulated mess of a pussy. You quiver and yelp like a corralled animal, though the Icon is too focused in the way your cum glistens on his digits. He finds your sloppy entrance and slides a digit in, moving it ever so slightly, enough to torture you. Your walls flutter and you start crying, fat desperate tears cascading down your tired face as you resign yourself to more unrequited pleasure.

Cero scoffs at the sight, observing sullen droplets hit the spotless floor while his gaze grows foggy. You're not sure what's going through his mind, nor are you lucid enough to care.

" I'm giving you so much pleasure, so much attention- You'll have me for entire days and nights, I'll make sure even that huge pink harlot envies you. " Although Cero's tone transmits desperation, his words are scathing and unconvincing. You have no idea how to interpret what he says, so all you do is look fearfully upon the caped tyrant, wincing at every twitch of his fingers that play with your wetness.

" Hm, no manners. " There's a drawn-out hum, facetiously pensive. " Yes… Maybe that's the problem, isn't it? I'm being too nice to you. Too sweet. You must think I'm a weakling. Bah, nonsense! I would not be King if I failed to adapt. "

You don't like the grin the demon now dons. It's different from his confident, toothy displays. Thinner. Strained. Warning. When his face rests mere inches from yours, your eyes close instinctively and you tremble hard enough that it feels as if you'll shake yourself into a pile of bones. Is he going to bite you? Plunge something into your flesh? Just yell? The uncertainty drags all breath from you.

Seconds pass.

Something warm slides up your face. Your cheek, more specifically. From chin to eye, it trails a wet path, collecting the rivers of fear tainting your expression. He's licking you. Cleaning your tears, perhaps savoring them. The same is done to the other side of your face, you don't dare open your eyes, fearing the type of sick emotion you'd find in his own.

The demonlord pulls away, his slicked fingers slipping out of you, but not before flicking a thoroughly abused button hard enough to make you squeal out in pain. It stings, black dots momentarily swallowing your vision.

" I understand, it’s a lot at the same time isn’t it? You need time to think about how you’re going to thank me for this. “

He’s gone in seconds. And the worst part is, you can’t even tell if Cero was being genuine, or purely mocking.

Hours must have passed.

You can’t really tell, it’s not as if he generously left a watch in the room. It feels like hours, so you assume that’s the case.

Your legs are sore, your ass, your still bound arms, even your back is screeching at you to shift position. Yet, no matter how much you grunt and shimmy around on the chair, it’s never enough to make the pains fade. You’re hungry, thirsty, still covered in your own fluids and utterly miserable, staring at that stupid. Fucking. Contract.

God help you. There isn’t a god here, but who else will you plead to?

You’d do anything to get out of this hellish chair right now. And part of you feels weak for admitting it. Maybe it’s exposure to movies that spawned this idea in you, but you’ve always thought it would take more violent methods to get you near begging for mercy. And sure, sexually you’ve just been through a lot, but being isolated in this chair is honestly doing worse right now.

You know what it is, at its core. Mind games. The demon humiliated you in an unforgivable way, and now he’s left you to your vices, to sit in shame, dirty. You’re livid, depressed that it’s working, that you’d rather just be done with this already.

As if something had heard your inner monologue, the door to this darkened hell pit parts, and in strolls none other than the very same bastard, looking as sharp as he’s been since the first second of this madness. The salty, dry tracks on your cheeks are silently renewed, the first reaction to his reappearance it seems.

Cero spares you a suspiciously calm glance before taking a seat on the chair opposite to yours, a fair distance away. His legs cross and he speaks out loud, as if to no one in particular. “ Dinner has just finished… “ A pause. “ If you sign now, you might be in time to eat with me. “

Food sounds amazing right now. You bet they serve well here, he’s a ruler after all.

In spite of your rage at his nonchalant audacity, you don’t say anything. Your judgment wavers in the face of discomfort and hunger, not allowing you to outright deny his offer.

Di Cero notices this, eyes sharpening when he finally deigns to glance at you, and preys on that weakness near instantly.

“ You do know you’re not losing anything of value, right? “ There’s a chuckle, as if he thinks your concerns are the silliest thing. “ It’s fascinating how afraid of change you are. Isn’t it pathetic? You live such a miserable existence that, when I hand you something much better, you immediately flinch away. “ A single finger waves, tutting you. “ Unlearn that, it’s unflattering. “

You swear to anything that’s out there, you’re about to pop a vein just from hearing this fucker speak. Another stretch of silence takes over, though not for long.

“ I’ve organized this down to the last minute. Every single detail. “ Some manner of contentment shines through his tone. “ Agree to our terms tonight, and our union will take place on Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that romantic? “

More like ironic. A demon getting married on a saint’s day. This has to be riveting for him. He must think he’s sooo clever and funny. Him and his little brigade of yes men most likely, because Cero strikes you as the type of monster that would want that.

“ Isn’t that perfect, beau? “

You wish you had the strength, and courage, to roll your eyes.

Unlike the previous encounter, your consistent lack of response isn’t dragging much of a reaction from the Icon. Instead, he just looks at the painted ceiling, eerily calm, waiting with steepled fingers. Cero appears to zone out completely, leaving you just as isolated as you were before.

Somehow, that makes you angrier. Yet also incredibly defeated.

This is it. You're just stuck here until you agree, he's made that much clear. And you're not a strong woman. You're not going to bear this for much longer. It's not fair and it's not worth it. He can have what he wants anyway, you've never been in any position to defy the demon, this is just some sick exercise to break you in.

A small eternity passes before you clear your throat, gathering a wink of composure and a brief side-glance from the tyrant.

" … I-... I'll sign. "

His eyes widen, chest expanding, you catch the exact moment where he realizes he's getting too excited and schools his expression, opting to be patient for a second more.

" I said I'll sign! " You near yell, voice broken, exasperated. " I just want to get out of here, I wanna take a bath, I just want to rest please- "

For a moment, Cero's stillness makes you wonder if he's lost interest, if your words were unconvincing or he thinks he can find someone better, someone less "pathetic", as he so politely put it. But then, in a blink, he bolts up, standing ever tall and tense. The demon erupts into elegant, manic laughter- Cackling really- As he claps joyfully and kicks his seat away in victory.

Although it probably wasn't meant to be intimidating, the way that admittedly heavy chair flies jarringly through the air and slams against the wall, breaking into pieces, is horrifying. A kick like that would just fucking flatten you, no doubt.

" Oh ho, I'm so very glad you've come to your senses! " The Icon's chortling fit settles ever so slightly, he waves. " I was starting to think you had some sort of damage. "

Oh. Oh, that's just lovely.

Cero's behind your seated frame in no time, untying your dominant hand, watching you pick up his pen. The demonlord's hands are planted on either side of you, pointy, cruel-looking things that they are. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, hot, heavy, there's a wolfish grin on his face- You don't need to look back to know it's there.

" Now sign. You've kept me waiting long enough. "

Said flat words spread on your skin like apathetic ice cubes, forcing you to quickly roll your sore wrist, and finally, write your name on that blasted signature blank. You know what you're getting yourself into with every shaky curl of ink, not wanting to think too hard about the consequences of your actions as you solemnly observe your name on this trap, this unsubtle death warrant sugarcoated with frivolous legal terminology. Drivel, a drivel-based, cynical ownership deal.

Cero hums from behind you, a much too sweet-sounding vocalization given the circumstances. Your hair is pet tenderly, the gesture so out of sorts that you start sobbing, scared, confused, full of instant regret.

" There we go, my lovely little prize. " He murmurs against your scalp, still smiling. " Very good. That wasn't so hard, was it? We're almost done. Almost. "

The pen falls from your trembling hands as you try to conceal humiliating noises, feeling vulnerable in a way you've never experienced before. Cero scoops it up and wipes your tears with the other, unfazed by the way you lean back hard enough to bonk your head on the chair's backrest.

" I hope those tears are of joy, dear. " He starts, grabbing your palm. " Now stand still, if you behave for the next part, we can put an end to this. " Next part…?

He clicks something on the pen's side and quickly adjusts your index, bringing the sleek black object closer. Ah, the blood print. Maybe you're sensitive, or maybe he does it on purpose, but the lancet hurts more than it should when it pierces into your pad of your finger. Your wince makes him snort. Blood beads there quite fast, Di Cero effortlessly angles your digit and creates an admittedly clean-looking droplet next to your signature.

A much smaller but still disturbing bout of tittering erupts from the demonlord, who slips your bleeding finger into his mouth, messily and lewdly sucking at it, before pulling away and swiping the finished contract away from the table. He gazes at it with a softness you fail to understand, as if it's all that matters in that moment, religiously re-reading the last paragraphs and moaning at the sight of your written agreement.

Fucking freak.

Di Cero places the apparently invaluable paper back on the ornamented table, deliberately far away from you, like he's afraid you'll try to destroy the thing. A tempting thought.

He's back on you like a hawk, taking your poor arm and showering it in chaste kisses, nipping at your wrist. " Precious, darling inamorata- See? All you needed was a little space. " The demon coos, placing a harder kiss to your forehead before stealing a taste of your lips. It's all teeth and impatience, rabid excitement. Disgusting. " I knew I picked excellently. You're full of potential, I just have to chip at you a little, which is normal, naturally- Given your uhm… Lackluster species. "

So he's racist to humans too. Of course. Why wouldn't he be? Why did you expect anything from this greasy fucker…

Those wandering feelers flutter this way and that across your body, and much to your dismay, they circle at your inner thighs, sliding to settle between your legs again. You groan, the touch entirely unrequited. You've orgasmed enough times to be sick. Although speaking is hard for you right now, you still try to halt him. " Cero… "

" Hush, I'm rewarding you. "

Funny how it feels like just more torment in spite of that.

You remain placid, resigned to letting the demon play with your poor womanhood. He appears to love the feeling, making clipped moans and growls behind you. In turn, you can only gasp and quiver, having long-since lost the ability to scream.

" C- Can you please untie me now? "

Di Cero shakes his head. " Soon. After we eat, yes? " Your responding sigh is pitiful. " Speaking of- "

" SERVANTS! "

Your heart jumps around your ribcage like a pinball machine, you almost feel light-headed for a second, goosebumps covering you from head to tone at the massively imposing, demonic tone that just left the Icon.

The doors part once more and small imps race forward, effectively setting the table. It's a small commotion, but enough to make you die in shame as they work diligently, while their master fingers you stupid. To their credit, not a single one looks your way. It's as if you don't exist at all. You still try to squirm away from Cero's ministrations, earning a disapproving snarl. Lord, this is so degrading.

Your dignity just keeps taking blow after devastating blow ever since you landed here.

In an impressively span of time, the two of you are left alone again, the table entirely set. Candles and everything, a bottle of champagne so expensive you can't recognize the brand, and the juiciest steak you've ever seen on a plate, almost seeming to teasingly wink at you.

Cero plucks a forkful of it with a free hand and aims it your way, a look of complete lovestruck mania on his pale complexion. " Eat now. You'll need your rest. " It parks at your lips, insistent, until you begrudgingly accept the food, frustrated further by how good it is. Just as you expected.

" Because tomorrow, my perfect Valentine, we'll be official. "

#Cero oc #pinnie's art #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster oc #monster x reader #terato #monsterfucker #not sfw #minors dni

[psychedeliccc]

body and soul.

warnings : none

(Based on a request by @kiyoomean)

word count : 1.3 k

Masterlist ★

Whispers travelled throughout the walls of the common room along with the scent of an experiment gone wrong. Admist the night the moon above shadowing the floor filled with viles and potions.

"Bloody dark out here. " you heard a familiar groan echo.

"I can help. " You spoke, breaking the quiet silence that followed the boy's voice, the feeling of hope running throughout your blood.

"Who the - sure, whatever go on. " you heard him murmur.

you walked, rather, floated across the room to carry a lamp beside him to help him.

Except,

Well,

you couldn't.

"Wait I can't, there's a lamp to your left. " you sighed realizing your transparency.

"Thanks." The boy whispered as he reached for his left and caressed his palms around it, opening the lid.

He lit it.

A pause.

He hollered.

You saw him flinch as he covered himself with his arms.

"Why are you yelling? Never seen a ghost before?"

He looks back.

He sighs.

"Of course I have, just...never...you. "

You paused and realized this was someone you had seen not less than a few hour let alone spoken with.

"Mattheo is it? "

"How'd you know? " Mattheo replied, a bit frightened, taking a step back.

"We've literally spoken a few hours ago -

my name is y/n. " you uttered, giving him a blank stare.

"Hard to recognize you with all that lack of color. " He joked followed by an anxious titter.

" I need your help. "You ignored his comment.

He sighed.

"with?" he asks as he walks forward slowly.

"You might be wondering how I got myself in this situation. " You continued.

"it does concern me now that you mention it. "

He recalled as he stared back at you.

You scoffed.

°°°°

"Merlin." Mattheo faltered as he scratched the back of his neck.

"- and I need your help resurrecting me from the dead. " you finished.

" how do you you expect me to do that exactly? "

"That's where your physical mobility comes to my advantage. " You smiled.

"Great, meaning you know exactly how to do it, you just need to instruct me? "

"Well, about that. " You stuttered.

"You don't know, do you? - mattheo sighed,

Why can't you just ask Dumbledore tomorrow? " He continued.

"If I am unfortunate enough, I will be seperated from my physical body and remain a... well in this case I'd say a ghost. "

"Let me get this straight, you even manage to get yourself in a situation where you 'accidentally' kill yourself and find a poor random stranger with the hopes of looking for water, and ask him oh so very spontaneously help you revive your decayed soul? " mattheo blanked, looking at your floating body.

"you're completely off, I didn't kill myself nor did I intend to, I was practicing spells for the sake of reviving a already dead Spectre.

" Oh and, be careful, my body, well physical body is right behind you. Mind you. " you interrupted.

Mattheo jumped as he looked to his back, accompanied by your dead corpse laying on the cold floor of the common room,

you looked dreadful really. No wonder he jumped.

"This is going to take all night. " Mattheo exasperated looking back at you, your phantom.

"Better get started, it's almost 9 . " You whispered hovering closer to his ear.

"Stop that. " Mattheo flinched at your cold breath.

°°°°

mattheo had singlehandedly collected each and every one of his potions reference books and spellbooks including novels studying deep into each chapter.

" what spell did you use exactly? " Mattheo hummed as he went through a textbook, switching each page.

" I believe it was called anima seperatio or something like that." You recalled.

"Godrick's sake. " Mattheo cursed under his breath, looking for the exact page.

"I didn't mean to be my own subject. " You sighed.

"So who's soul did you intend to seperate from their body? " Mattheo asked, eyes glued to the book as he flipped a few pages.

"I intended to do the opposite. " You replied, hovering above him.

"Meaning? " Mattheo asked.

"I tried to resurrect myrtle. "

"Moaning Myrtle? " Mattheo questioned.

"Yeah, I feel bad for her, to be honest, I tried to learn two spells, one to resurrect her, and another to make her young again."

"So she wouldn't die the second you would revive her. " Mattheo finished.

"Exactly." You sighed.

"But how would you make her younger as a spirit, she died when she was, 14,I suppose."

"Thats what I was trying to figure out. " You huffed.

Mattheo chuckles.

"What's so funny? "

" nothing. " Mattheo smiled to himself, hiding his face.

"Bet you think I'm an idiot. "

"I didn't mean that. "

°°°°

"I've found it, I just need the ingredients. "

"Oh finally , it's been 30 minutes now. " You sighed in relief.

"Merlin, says right here the potions gonna take 2 hours to complete. "

"Meaning we'll finish before dawn, brilliant. " You smiled.

Mattheo smiled back in sympathy as he went to collect the ingredients.

"Thanks by the way. " You whispered as mattheo kept the required items beside his cauldron.

"Thought you'd never thank me. " Mattheo grunted as he attempted to open a bottle of dragon scales.

"Three of those. " You replied as he managed to open the lid.

"Thanks."

You smile.

"Why would you help Myrtle at this time of the night anyway? " Mattheo asked, eyes still on the cauldron.

"Its her birthday tomorrow. " You replied with a smile.

"That's really considerate of you." Mattheo smiled.

"Thanks Matty. " You sighed.

"Excuse me? " he hesitated.

"Yes? "

"What did you just call me? "

"Matty."

"Weird."

"Talking about yourself i see." You replied.

"We've just met and you've already arranged me a nickname? " Mattheo questioned as he poured two spoons of pearl dust into the cauldron.

"Of course I have, surprised you haven't. "

"I haven't what? "

"Arranged me a nickname. "

Mattheo chuckles once more.

"What's so funny? " You raved.

"I think 'nincompoop' suits you well. " He bursts out into little chuckles as he smiles back at you.

"Was I supposed to laugh. " You scoff.

"You're offended and that's all that matters."

°°°°

"Are you done yet? " You yawned as you dramatically pull your head back.

"I'm more frustrated than you, love."

"Aww." You teased

"What."

"You called me love. " You smirked.

"I call everyone love, I'm british. " He joked.

"you called me loveeeee. " You teased Monotonously.

"You want this potion or not? "

"Sorry."

"That's more like it. " He smirked.

°°°

You stared at the window admiring the admist of the night, the stars soaring above the midnight sky and aligning almost perfectly in the most elegant of shapes and patterns.

Your eyes followed mattheo's presence.

"Done yet? " You asked.

"30 minutes left, I've brewing it, needs time to settle. " Mattheo ensured.

"Great." You spoke as you flew over to him.

"Wait how exactly are you going to drink this potion though? " Mattheo questioned.

"Put it in my mouth. " You spoke.

"In your dead body's mouth? " Mattheo asked.

"Yeah, read the instructions like 15 times when you were brewing it. " You yawned.

Mattheo yawned back.

°°°°

"Done! " Mattheo rejoiced, jumping in happiness as he poured the potion into a vile.

"Do it then. "

"Right." Mattheo answered as he went towards your corpse, which now smelled like decaying animals.

You observed as mattheo poured the potion into your mouth, opening it with a spoon.

You felt a weird pulling force upon your misty body as you poured back into your physical body.

A loud gasp filled the room as you opened your eyes in a sudden minute.

" Bloody hell. " You cursed as you attempted to get up.

Mattheo offered his arm and you pulled yourself up.

"Thank you so much Matty. " You chanted as you pulled him into your arms, forming a sweet hug.

Mattheo pat your back and hugged you back, then leaving you out.

You smiled and he smiled back.

"You're amazing you know that? " You whispered.

Mattheo smirked.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You and your cocky face. " You laughed.

"But seriously, I'm extremely thankful. " You continued.

"I need sleep. " Mattheo yawned.

"You may leave, I'll clean up this mess. " You smiled.

"Not on my watch, I'm cleaning, you're sleeping. "

"Matty." You smiled.

"Hmm."

"No way I'm going to let you clean. "

"How about you help me? " Mattheo stared at your eyes.

"Thank you Mattheo. "

"You're welcome, love. "

#mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #ghost #moaning Myrtle #new #matty #cute mattheo #Halloween special yall #i really hope you like it #i really tried 😭 #slytherin boys

[local-ground-apple]

A makeout session with Jade is 😳🥵🔥

okay, so like, that would be extremely hot & i would perish lowkey written as a small part 1.5 to meeting jade for the first time fic

The breath was lost in your throat when your back roughly collided with the wall. You stumbled a bit, your hands trying to clutch cuffs of the other person's shirt to steady your surprised and shakened form.

His fingers gripped your chin, titling it slightly to the side, as he stared at you, carefully observing your flustered face.

,,My, my, you seem a bit caught off the guard ?"

Jade leaned down, whispering to your ear, before he pulled back once again. You yelped, as his lips crashed on yours, kissing you desperately and fiercely. You tried to push him away, yet despite your efforts he didn't move in the slightest, firmly standing and pinning you to the wall.

,,I suppose you could consider this as a payback for your last...stunt"

Jade's sultry yet amused tone made you widen your eyes in annoyance, when he pulled slightly away, letting you catch few desperate breathes. Your hands once again attempted to put some distance between you two, yet this eel ignored your poor attempts.

You were truly a poor, unfortunate soul.

He titled his head slightly, as he observed briefly your exasperated expression. You looked as if you were debating whether to make a scene and yell at him, or continue to try to slither away from him and escape.

,,I wasn't aware you were this vindictive"

You huffed, clearly annoyed with Jade's behavior, as you rolled your eyes, only earning a small chuckle from him. Jade leaned down once again, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck.

,,I'm not quite done yet"

He whispered and before you even had to chance to react, Jade left a trail of wet kisses on your collarbone. His teeth hovered teasingly over one spot, before he bit down on it, nibbling and drawing blood, making sure to leave a reddish mark which would be visible.

You supposed that you indeed hated this eel's revenge.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst jade leech #twst jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland jade leech #twisted wonderland jade leech x reader #octavinelle #apple answers #not a proper makeout session but yeet