#your honor i love him and his filthy mouth

[solar-wing]

⚣ Dick Grayson: NSFW Alphabet 🔵

⚣🔵 Words → 3.5k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 🔵

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Caring and attentive. In other words, cling as hell.

It’s amazing how someone who was just fucking you like an absolute slut could turn into the world’s most innocent and soft boy in existence. When you think about it, it’s actually a little bit disturbing as well.

But, I digress. Dick will absolutely pick you up and carry you into the shower or whatever you desire. He’s also perfectly fine with lying in the mess. He doesn’t care as long as he gets to cuddle you right after.

He will have an overwhelming smug attitude though, especially if the sex was preceded by an argument, disagreement, or the acrobat just wanted to teach you a lesson. He can be a little shit when he wants to be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I feel like we all know the answer to this one.

Dick’s butt is praised so much, that you already know he puts extra time and care into making sure it stays nice, right, and tight. He not so secretly loves when you play with it as well, whether it’s a light slap or pressing up against him even though he’s always the top. Notable mentions: His chest, abs, and thighs.

If you assumed his favorite body part on you was your ass, you’d guess right. Congratulations! You win nothing except a hard and playful smack on said ass from the acrobat. You’re welcome! Honorable mentions: Your waist, thighs, and chest. His weakness is any kind of jiggle and he is not ashamed or afraid of getting caught staring.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He may not play basketball but he’s a shooter (kill me). He can pretty much cover you anywhere or reach your furthest depths inside (careful if it’s M-Preg or he’ll definitely be the father).

He’s equal with where he likes to cum. He likes to sum on your face, chest, and body just as much as he loves to shoot down your throat and inside your hole. And the filthy little acrobat will definitely lick your cum off his hand after stroking you to your own finish. Let’s be clear now, this man has no shame.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dick’s got a body count. Not as high as Bruce’s maybe but it’s up there. He can play innocent all he wants, but that man can and will get down when he’s feeling it.

Which, speaking of, he has definitely used Nightwing to land him some ass. No, I will not be taking questions.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Again, he doesn’t exactly have the title of a playboy like his adoptive father, but Dick’s been around the block. So he definitely knows a thing or two when it comes to the down and dirty.

Even if you are experienced yourself, I can guarantee Dick knows some tricks you don’t know which will have you, well…let’s save that for the bedroom, shall we?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Face down, ass up, and no that was not a suggestion. Dick absolutely favors any position where your ass is bouncing in his face. Doggy, reverse cowgirl, spooning, standing behind, anything.

He also loves a good 69 moment and enjoys the missionary positions where he can really put in some power while inside you. You on the bed and him standing, countertop, or a stand-carry.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If you know Dick’s personality, while the boy can be an absolute menace in the bedroom, he’s still a goofball at heart. Also, known for his witty banter, you can expect some wild stuff to come out that man’s mouth while he’s cumming to yours (tee hee).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dick is definitely well-groomed. He used to be a performer so he always took extreme care of his appearance. Keeps himself shaven and clean-cut, which definitely makes him appear bigger, as well as keeping those areas down there fresh and ready for any kind of play.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dick is a romantic at heart. As much as he can be a little dominant shit in the bedroom, he’s always down for some soft love and intimate moments.

Candles, roses, food, massages with kisses down your body, maybe a little romantic dance before you get sweaty. You name it, Dick’s already thought of it and is thinking of more. Just as much as he wants to please you sexually, intimacy and romance never is off the table.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dick is probably the most sexually active just behind Bruce, so you can definitely imagine that boy is no stranger to an evening alone with just him and his hand. Just as much as he knows how to please others, he knows how to please himself.

He knows when he’s in the mood to drag it out and edge himself while imagining or watching some slow, soft dirty dancing, and he knows when he’s frustrated and just needs to rub one out to get the edge off a little bit. Again, you won’t find many things in that realm that Dick has not either already tried or even just learned about.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Role-Playing: Once again, I bring up the fact that Dick is a retired performer. You know he’s one for the dramatics and theatrics, especially when it comes to sex. Whether it’s Nightwing coming to the rescue of some helpless dude, or instead that same person being abducted and forced to serve Nightwing to earn his freedom, nothing is off the table. And yes, as I just implied, that included CNC (Consensual-Non-Consensual). He’d never push you too far (unless variable circumstances apply), but he’s down to play any role. He’s the cop and you’re the guilty criminal he’s just arrested. You’re his student and desperately need a passing grade to graduate.

BDSM: He’s not too much into the lifestyle, but he definitely dabbles. He likes certain aspects of it, specifically the bondage, Dom/Sub roles, and getting to inflict punishments (his favorite being spanking cause it means he gets to play with your ass more). This also helps a lot with this abducted, helpless victim role-play when he gets to pull out the cuffs, rope, blindfolds, gags, and whatever else he’s got lying around. And he’s not opposed to the roles being reversed.

Dirty Talk: The guy is all about using his words remember. Self-explanatory.

Public Play (Exhibitionism): Dick’s not a sex addict, but he might as well be one with the way that man will drop his pants without a second thought, no matter where he is. Of course, he’s not just going to outright start doing it in front of others, but the thrill of pulling you into a dark corner, alleyway, restroom and the risk of you getting caught will always get him excited. Double points if you actually do get caught, because again, this man has no shame.

Honorable Mentions: Edge Play (choking/breath play), Impact Play (sub of BDSM, spanking, paddling, etc), Wrestling, Daddy kink, Mirror Sex, etc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As we just went over, public places really get Dick going. Especially if he’s out as Nightwing and wants to pull you into a random alley or bring you to some high-up rooftop, he will happily christen a surface that is not within the confines of his own house or private dwelling, and he won’t feel bad about it.

Other specific places?

The shower, any counter or table surface, the Batmobile, his motorbike, literally anywhere in his apartment, etc.

He really has no reservations about where he does it, as long as he can get up in you, he’s content.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

#1 – He’s a horny bastard: Again, he’s not a sex addict, but he sure has the sex drive of one. It doesn’t take much to get him turned on. A casual, suggestive sentence, the way your shorts are really highlighting your work in the gym, how you're sucking on the straw while sipping your drink, or even when you’re just standing or sitting doing nothing, that man will get hard and he will pounce on you.

#2 – Domestic Actions/Life: This is something I forgot to mention with Jason so I’ll mention it here because I’m definitely head-canoning that they both share this in common. Any kind of domestic act. You cook him dinner when he comes home or pack his lunch before he heads out for the day. Helping clean up his house or doing his laundry and folding his clothes. Running him a bath, washing his hair, giving him a massage after a hard day or night. Waiting up for him in bed after patrol and patting the space once he changes out of his uniform, laying down and letting him vent about anything on his mind while you rub his body or head. All of it and more will definitely have him up and ready for fun.

#3 – Jealousy: Now, you may think I mean when someone flirts with you and he gets all macho and protective, rah rah rah. Nope, not at all (unless we’re talking Alpha Dick in Omegaverse. Then, that’s different because, by the rule, it’s a part of his biology to be). Dick is actually quite casual and will find it humorous when someone tries to even think about flirting with you in hopes of stealing you away from him. He knows his worth, and even more, he knows how good his dick is. He’s not worried. But, when it’s the opposite, and someone flirts with him because again, this man is literally one of the most attractive beings probably in the entire world, he absolutely will be turned on at the sight of you staking your claim on him, chasing off any hag dared flirt with him in front of you.

Honorable Mentions: Arguing/Make-Up Sex, Clothing, exercising, any kind of physical touch.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Nothing that could involve serious injury or blood. Also, nothing even remotely unsanitary. I mean scat/throw-up/piss.

Also, he may be into very public displays of affection but do not get it twisted one bit. Dick is not into any type of sharing. He’s a sweetie at heart, but don’t piss him off with that ridiculous idea.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dick is the goat of throat. Yeah, I said it…what you gon do? Beat my ass or something?

Just kidding, but no seriously, this man has a reputation known among his sexual partners for the danger to society that is his mouth, and not when it’s giving off a witty/sarcastic remark. He’s been known to drive some people to the brink of insanity, metaphorically speaking of course. But, then again, you never know with these people.

He loves to receive head and loves to give it even more. Especially when he gets to play with your balls and deny your orgasm every time you reach the edge, the little bastard. Same can be said if he’s munching on that hole too, which he eagerly does cause the sight of it puckering and winking at him sends all the little happy flutters to his own groin.

Now, if we’re talking again about receiving, and you think you’re gonna have him putty in your hand like he does with you, think again. This man is the definition of a seasoned veteran. There’s only been one known time he’s ever gotten overwhelmed and came from just head, and that was when he was a teenager. If you’re hoping to do that now, you’d better have expert-level skills, cause he will test you. Facefucking, choking and gagging, and whatever else that comes to mind.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

High off adrenaline after an intense patrol or fight? Congratulations, you’re about to be his next victim. You got jealous and cussed out someone for trying to flirt with him? Prepare to learn a whole new meaning of getting rough sex. Wore some 3 in shorts to the gym AND did a leg day? Gon head and bend that ass over, you’re about to experience why he’s called ‘Dick’ rather than ‘Rich’ or something else for a nickname. Please cancel any plans you have for that evening or the next day cause you may not be able to walk, stand, or even move for that manner.

On the opposite side, did you take his Nightwing suit and hand wash it, making it look like the day he first put it on? Sweet lord, you’re a treasure and he’s about to show you why. It’s your anniversary and you got him one of the most beautiful and sentimental gifts? You and your body are about to be treated like an award that he is the sole recipient of. You cussed out Bruce after he did something stupid and reckless again involving Dick or one of the others? Not only is Jason blessing the ground you walk on, Dick’s about to drop down on one knee and propose, and then proceed to treat your body like a slut in the most romantic and sensual way you could ever imagine. As a precaution, still, go ahead and cancel any future plans just in case.

Dick truly has no preference other than whatever he’s feeling at the moment. Long, deep strokes, or quick, fast juts? Whatever gets the job done and reminds you there’s nobody better than him is good in his book.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dick loves quickies. As chaotic and busy as his life is, he practically lives off them and craves them.

Again, this man should have his headshot in the dictionary next to ‘horny’ or promiscuous. Cause if it was up to him? He’d be screwing you once every 2 hours at least. Whether it’s a quick handjob he’s giving you, or he’s got both your pants down while rapidly fucking into you cause he’s only got five minutes before he has to get back, he’s doing it.

The man thinks they should be protected and enshrined into law. That’s how much he loves them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try anything and everything under the sun and moon as long as it’s not one of his already-mentioned no-no’s. If it adds excitement to the routine, why not? You never know with that man.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Very adamant stamina. His plentiful experiences have shaped it, and his physical training and endurance have added to it.

That man can do multiple rounds in a night, ranging anywhere from 3-5, and maybe even more if just that kind of night. He also knows his body, and can/will do what he needs to do to drag one round out for as long as he can until not only is he satisfied himself, but he feels he’s adequately satisfied you. And to be clear, you have absolutely no say on whether he feels like he’s satisfied you or not.

So please, get used to the idea of being overstimulated and crying at the 3rd or 4th orgasm he gives you before he’s even had one. It’ll save you a lot of frustration (not really but you get what I mean).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dick, who again, will and has tried everything under the moon and sun. Of course, he has toys. What do you think this is? A playground? Please…

And trust, he’s going to get more. He’s probably signed up on a loyalty program with a sex store or website, and best believe he’s got diamond status.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A prayer for the innocent soul who unknowingly awakens the playful, petty, and vindictive part of Dick Grayson’s personality, especially when it comes to sex. May god, the universe, karma, whatever else have mercy on your soul and may the odds ever be in your favor.

There’s a reason I call Dick Grayson a little shit, bastard, fucker, and other various names because that is literally what he is, and I love him the more for it. He doesn’t get angry, upset, or even mad (unless it’s something serious). No, he gets petty, and that turns into him being the most teasing piece of shit in the bedroom, especially if you’ve challenged him in some kind of way.

Orgasm denial, forcing you to be quiet and stay still, sensory overload, multiple orgasms, and overstimulation; all this and he hasn’t even put his tongue on you yet, let alone his dick anywhere near you. That man is vindictive and will play on it until his heart’s content. Please, tread carefully when choosing whether or not you want to fuck with this man, especially if he’s in a mood.

Matter of fact, just run. Actually, don’t do that either. He likes the chase. FUCK! You’re screwed no matter what (metaphorically AND literally).

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dick gets loud. And he wants you to get equally as loud with him.

He’s not afraid to let out the sluttiest sounds, from soft and quiet moans to loud and debauched shouts from the top of his lungs. He can be quiet if need be, but he’d rather not. He enjoys the idea of people knowing he’s getting lucky and, even more, the idea of people knowing you’re getting lucky from him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

That man has an obsession with doing it in his Nightwing suit. You think he picked that style and aesthetic for something as useless as flexibility, quick movement, and durability? Absolutely not. 

Dick absolutely knew what he was doing when he had his suit designed. He wanted to look like a slut and nothing more, and that's okay! I mean, come on, you think his ass looking that good in his uniform was a coincidence? A mistake? How innocent and naive of you.

Everyone should have known Dick’s true intentions when they saw how sinfully deep the cut was in his first suit that we all know and love as Discowing. That man fully intended for his suit to be something he could fuck up and fuck dudes in while looking hot. It was non-negotiable.

Look at him.

Like, I'm sorry, but what the hell do you mean I’m not supposed to be turned on and have my legs divorcing like a whore who's being prosecuted in a court of law due to adulterous behavior with this standing in front of me? Are you unwell?!?!?

Yeah, respectfully no. I will forever headcanon that Dick Grayson knew exactly what he was doing when he had his suits designed, and it was the complete opposite of what everyone was saying.

“Dick is quick and agile."

"He’s lightweight on his feet."

"He needs a suit that will support and accentuate his acrobatic skills.”

Absolutely not. That man is (respectfully in an empowering context) a slut, on the inside and out, and he wanted a suit that would best show it to the world. I will not be gaslit into believing otherwise.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

What Dick lacks in girth, he makes up for in length and skill. He’s definitely not thin, but he's a little under-average when it comes to thickness. Somewhere between 6-7 inches.

More than likely cut, and has a voluptuous head that’s perfect for sucking on and teasing.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

We’ve discussed this in great length, multiple times. It’s self-explanatory at this point. The man is basically the human equivalent of a rabbit or bunny.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dick can stay up long after the round has been up, especially if he’s in a mood where he wants to talk. Ironically, after fucking like some wild animals with the most questionable mindsets and morals, he loves to shoot the shit and have pillow talk after.

I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but Dick is basically a chatterbox and will ask you about your day, what you had for lunch, who pissed you off at work, and more while still buried inside of your ass with your dick pressed between both your stomachs. He’s also content with turning on the TV or whatever screen is available and watching a movie or something until you both fall asleep. Mind you, he’s probably still inside you and is going to try his best to stay inside even if he’s gone soft and keeps slipping out.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter one.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: kiss with a fist - florence and the machine.

author's note: i'm so excited to share this series with everyone. this was literally meant to be a one shot fic but i have no self control therefore it spiraled into a whole series. without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think 🤎

Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure. 

Intelligence, knowledge, wisdom. These were the traits that Ravenclaws valued most, but if the founder of your house could see you now, Rowena Ravenclaw would probably roll over in her grave. 

Because there was nothing smart about falling in love with Theodore Nott. 

In fact, it might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

So why did it feel so bloody exhilarating? 

To understand your descent into madness, it was prudent to trace the events back to point zero. 

It was a rainy September afternoon, unusually dreary even for the Scottish Highlands. The first week of your return to Hogwarts had been chaotic to say the least. Between performing your prefect duties by showing the first years around the castle and dealing with the clueless third year that accidentally set off Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Great Hall, you were absolutely knackered by the time Friday rolled around. 

Unfortunately, you had no time to rest. Even though the term just started, you were already spending much of your nights studying until your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull. Tonight, you were in the potions laboratory tackling a particularly stubborn advanced draught. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t figure it out. 

You dropped a sprig of wormwood into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise then clockwise, just like the recipe instructed. The concoction bubbled to the surface. Holding your breath, you peered into the mixture with hope that this try would finally turn out successful. The potion turned a vibrant magenta color before exploding all over the front of your uniform. 

Sadly, this was the closest you’d come to brewing the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. You sighed, wiping down your tie with a washcloth. It did nothing except make the mess worse. What you needed was a good old fashioned soak.

Luckily, you had access to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. During this time of night, it would be gloriously empty. Giving you the perfect opportunity to wallow in bubbles and self pity. 

The trek from the dungeons to the fifth floor was fortunately uneventful. The hallways were dark and quiet, allowing you to slink off to the bathroom in peace. With a whisper of pine fresh, the pearly gates opened.

You turned on the faucets, setting the temperature just below boiling and dispensing herbs and fragrances into the tub. When you were finally satisfied, you quickly discarded your soiled clothes and eagerly stepped into the warm bath. The scent of rosewater and pink himalayan salt instantly relaxed you. 

You sighed deeply, leaning against the marble tile and closing your eyes. This was definitely not the way you thought seventh year would go. Your last year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the highlight of your academic career. While your housemates fretted and fussed over quidditch games and blood moon balls, you refused to take your eyes off the prize.

Ever the diligent student, you had no interest in extracurriculars unless it brought you closer to your dream of becoming an accomplished potions master, which would hopefully catch the eye of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Joining the prestigious group was a dream that you had been working towards since first year. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone towards achieving this goal, especially during your most recent break. 

You spent the entire holiday interning at the Brewery, attending lectures at the Magical Division of the University of Oxford, and you had not only completed the assigned reading for your Advanced Potions class, but Professor Slughorn’s personal recommendations as well. All of that hard work should have placed you ahead of the curve, but your class rank remained the same as always. 

Second. 

Not first.

Never first.

No, that spot belonged to that rich infuriating smartass pureblooded motherfu—

“Theodore Nott,” you said, lacing your voice with as much venom as you could muster. 

Between the pale moonstone pillars stood the source of your academic anguish. Theodore was dripping sweat, his green and silver quidditch jersey covered in mud and grime. The prefect badge pinned to his robe was barely visible, more brown than silver. His curly brown hair fell erratically across his cheekbones as he brushed a stray strand away to squint in the faint light. 

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk when he recognized you. “You know, most people just call me Theo.” His gaze lingered on your form, which was barely covered by pink suds. “Especially those who know me rather intimately.”

You flushed in response. Amusement danced in his watercolor eyes, which seemed brighter now thanks to his sun kissed complexion. Knowing Nott, he probably spent his summer laying out in the Italian sun while attractive witches fed him grapes by hand. You didn’t get a tan like that from holing up in the English countryside with nothing but a boiling cauldron and a dusty textbook for company. He didn’t even have the audacity to pretend like he was worried about his class ranking. The bastard. 

“Every rule has its exception, Theodore,” you gritted out. “Now get the fuck out.” 

He cocked his head, sending a mass of wavy brown locks to spill to one side. “You’re right. Most people don’t usually say my name like it’s an unforgivable, but I guess you’re special in that way, diavolina mia.”

Little devil, Nott's idea of a fond nickname, irritated you to no end. Your annoyance only made him use it more. Gods, what a wanker. 

“Are you deaf or just thick? This bathroom is occupied,” you huffed, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Leave before I scream bloody murder.” 

Theo smirked. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll be screaming.” He kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a messy pile beside your own neatly arranged boots. “Though the only thing I’ll be murdering is that pu—”

The glare you sent his way would have sent lesser men running for the Forbidden Forest. “I’m serious, Nott. I’ve had a terrible fucking day and I am not giving up the bath.” 

“Neither am I,” he countered. “Practice was brutal. I ate shit on the pitch and all I want to do is to reap my prefect benefits via bubble bath. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn how to share, sweetheart.”

You watched in stunned silence as he peeled off his jersey. The moonlight streamed through the glass stained windows, painting him in a surreal sort of light. There was no ounce of shame to be found in Theodore Nott as he stripped off his trousers and stood stark naked in the middle of the bathroom. 

Look away, you thought. Look the fuck away now.  

But like a moth to a flame, you found yourself horribly drawn to the cocky, arrogant, son of a bludger. His tall frame cut an imposing figure in the dark as slivers of moonlight danced across his ridiculously toned chest and well-defined abs. He was neither brawny nor scrawny, but somewhere in the middle, which unfortunately happened to be your sweet spot. 

To make matters worse, the smug prick seemed perfectly aware of your ogling. You could’ve sworn Theo flexed as he stalked towards you. Unlike most boys his age, he wasn’t awkward or bumbling. Theo was confident in his body. Too confident. 

You sighed. “Can you at least attempt to be decent?” 

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

As if you needed a reminder of this ongoing tryst between you. Theo waded to your side, leaning his head back as the warm water sloshed around him. His eyes fluttered close, those thick lashes of his kissing the top of his cheekbones. Water trickled down his collarbone and you had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it off. 

“I told you, last time was—“ 

“The last time,” Theo finished. “I’m perfectly aware, principessa. You say it every time.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

He cocked his head, flashing those hypnotizing eyes at you. “Oh?” Theo drawled slowly, reaching out to brush a wayward lock of hair that had escaped from your braid. “Did my poor little Ravenclaw finally find the courage to say no to the big bad Slytherin?” 

Your breath hitched as he pressed his lips against your throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Go on then, love,” Theo hummed against your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, making you involuntarily arch into him. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of your throat, holding you in place. “Tell me what you want, diavolina.” 

You sighed in defeat. “Stop being an asshole and kiss me, Nott.” 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours like a man starved. After months of going without, you came to the horrid realization that you craved this as much as he did. You crawled into his lap, straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

I am a stupid girl, you thought. A stupid, horny girl who had no business snogging Theodore Nott. 

One, you were bitter rivals. Two, Theo awakened a dangerous side of you that defied all logic. This whole fucked up situation started because of your lapse of judgment last winter. As always, Theo had said or done something to annoy you during class and in return you hexed his drink to taste like dragon dung. He retched for a week straight. Somehow Snape found out that you were to blame and placed both of you in detention.

One thing led to another in the potions classroom and you ended up with your skirt around your waist and Theo’s head between your legs. You quickly resolved that the only way to shut him up was to keep him occupied and occupied he was. Ever since then, the two of you had been at it like rabbits. 

You thought that you would leave all of it behind in sixth year, but barely a week into this term and you were already repeating the pattern. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all summer,” Theo groaned into your mouth. 

“That’s cute, Nott,” you responded sarcastically. “Miss me over the holidays, did you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this too. You’ve been testier than a Hungarian Horntail since the minute you got off the platform. I could tell that you haven’t been properly fucked since our little impromptu goodbye in the broom closet last spring.” 

“You’re absolutely repulsing.” 

He smirked. “Then why are you pulling me closer?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.” 

“You could say please.” 

“I could,” you said with a shrug before gripping his cock and lining him up at your entrance. Theo groaned as you sank down into him with a satisfied little smirk. “But I won’t.” 

The moan that came out of his mouth barely sounded human. “Fuck,” he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “How do you always feel so fucking good?” 

You knew what he meant. As much as you hated to admit it, Theo was right. You hadn’t gotten properly laid since your last tryst. There had been other boys this summer, but none of them made you feel like this. Because sex with Theo wasn’t just sex. It was warfare. You fucked like you both had something to prove. 

Even now, as you grinded your hips against him, Theo thrusted upwards with equal force like you were competing for the bloody house cup. You ran your fingers through his hair, frowning a little. 

“What?” Theo asked. 

“Did you cut your hair?” 

He grinned as he trailed kisses along your jaw. “You don’t like it?”

“Less to hold onto.”

“Don’t worry dolcezza,” Theo chuckled darkly. He squeezed your thighs and pressed you against him roughly. “I’ll make sure to hold on tight for the both of us.”

You hummed in agreement before sinking down again, setting a steady rhythm as you rode him with reckless abandon. For someone who valued logic, every ounce of common sense you possessed went out the window when it came to this infuriating boy. 

Maybe you were a masochist. But as Theo thrust sharply into you, the stupid little voice in your head said that you didn’t really mind the pain. 

You moaned as Theo tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. It was a clash of tongue and teeth as you fought for dominance, putting your bodies to the test. He knew exactly what buttons to press, which sensitive spots to hit, how to challenge you physically and mentally. 

“Gods, right there.” You whimpered, digging your fingernails into his back. Theo’s hypnotizing eyes snapped to yours, piercing through every layer until you felt even more bare than you already were. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He smirked. “So you do have bedside manner after all.” 

“Not for you,” you said as you grinded down hard, making Theo bite into your shoulder. 

“Salazar fucking save me,” he grunted. 

“Your founder can’t save you now, Nott.” 

“Cruel, ruthless woman.” Theo looked up at you like he was praying to the stars. His movements stilled as your gazes collided. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me that no one else makes you feel like this.” 

You whined at the loss of friction. “You’ve picked a shit time to get all sentimental on me, Nott.”

“It’s not sentiment, it’s the truth,” Theo declared, thrusting lazily. “And I want to hear you say it.” 

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said casually. “I want to know if I measure up to the boys back in Oxford.”

Not even close, you thought. But you were not about to admit that out loud. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

Theo chuckled before sinking his teeth into your neck. “But I’m not a cat, little bird. I’m a snake and I’m coiled around you ready to strike if you say the word.” 

You shivered slightly. This constant back and forth, all the bickering and banter, was just you and Theo’s sick and twisted version of foreplay. Gods, you fucking missed it. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Theodore Nott, you are an infuriating little shit but you fuck like an absolute demon. I missed sneaking around with you in the broom closet, the charms classroom, the astronomy tower, and wherever else we managed to defile in this bloody castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The shiteating grin on his face almost made you want to take it all back, but then he flipped you over, laying you down on the cold marble tile and staring at you with so much lust in his eyes that you felt the depths of his desire in your core. He crawled over you, water trickling down his tanned skin. 

“Close enough,” he remarked before hiking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself so deep that you clawed the edge of the tub to keep yourself from slipping. 

The rest of it was a blur of skin on skin as Theo unleashed himself on you. His mouth, his fingers, his cock were all just tools of seduction that he wielded with lethal precision. 

The pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing again and again as he made you cum not once, not twice, but a total of three times. By the time he reached his peak, you were so exhausted that the two of you collapsed in the dark. 

You laid side by side, staring up at the domed glass ceiling in stunned silence. After a moment, Theo turned over to face you.

“So?” 

“So what?”

“Did I manage to knock that stick out of your arse?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the tile. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’m kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good,” Theo teased, following closely behind as you put your clothes back on. He eyed the bright magenta stain on the front of your uniform. “What happened there? Did you murder some poor unsuspecting pygmy puff?” 

“No, but I did a number on the potions lab,” you lamented with a sigh. “That stupid Angel’s Trumpet Draught is bloody impossible to brew.” 

“That old thing?” Theo asked, pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his quidditch bag. “I finished it ages ago.” 

You gaped, nearly tumbling over your own skirt. “How? I followed the recipe word for word and this disastrous stain was all I managed to achieve.”

“Sometimes you have to go off the book,” he replied. “Experiment a little.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather keep all my limbs intact.”

“I think you’re doing a rather splendid job of endangering yourself all on your own,” Theo said sarcastically. He cocked his head as you slipped on your boots. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you how to brew the draught in exchange for a favor.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What kind of favor?” 

“That’s for me to decide and for you to accept.” 

“I’d rather not give an egomaniac a nuclear advantage.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not, diavolina?” 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But only because I’m desperate.” 

“Words every bloke is dying to hear.” 

Without a word, he tossed a mass of balled up fabric in your direction. “What’s this?” 

“A jumper, an article of clothing generally worn to retain warmth in colder climates,” Theo deadpanned.

“I know what a jumper is, you tosser. Why are you giving it to me?” 

“Because, you’ll get a cold walking around like that,” Theo explained with a longsuffering sigh as though you were a clueless first year. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Plus, I can see your nipples through your blouse and as much as I enjoy the view, I doubt that flashing Filch is at the top of your bucket list.” 

“You truly are appalling,” you replied, shrugging the slightly faded jumper on. The thing was so worn that you couldn’t even make out the inscription on the front. The fabric swallowed you whole, skimming the top of your thighs. It also smelled like sea salt and smoke and boy. One boy in particular. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He grinned, showing off those stupid little dimples of his. “Meet me in the potions lab tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp, just like old times. And bring a muffin.” 

“For the draught?’ 

“No, for me.” Theo said, holding the door open. “I’ll need motivation if I’m spending my Saturday morning with you.” 

You slipped into the hallway and flipped him the bird. His laughter followed you in the dark like an annoying shadow.

“See you tomorrow, my little pygmy puff!”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303@letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions

#your honor i love him and his filthy mouth #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theo nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n

[unrefinedmusings]

sweet, sweet sugar

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary: meeting a man in a bar and trying to determine what about him is so damn alluring. it doesn't really matter though, it ends well for the both of you. part 2: snooze

warnings: smut, explicit sex, explicit language, age gap (reader is mid 20s, Joel is 36) riding, truck sex, nasty talk, MDNI, 18+

a/n: i love him, your honor. i will protect this tired dilf with my life. might expand on this, if so it'll be fluffy/smutty (no angst because the show is already enough pain for me)

---

It was his voice, you think. You had just relocated to Texas and were new enough to be drawn in by that deep Southern accent when he introduced himself.

Hi, uh, I’m Joel. Mind if I buy ya’ a drink?

Maybe it was the age difference. It wouldn’t be a first for you and the few strands of gray in his hair did make you a little weak in the knees.

It could’ve been his arms. Bumping against the hard muscles of his bicep as the bar stools you two were sitting on inevitably wobbled while you talked. Placing a light touch on his forearm when the liquid courage of your second drink kicked in, before your fingers made their way to his indecently thick ones to intertwine. Just the rough touch of his hands was enough to make you shiver.

His eyes were definitely a factor. Puppy brown orbs that sparkled brighter than starlight when he laughed, even under the dim lights of the bar. How they grew dark, almost black, when you leaned in close enough for him to catch a whiff of your perfume, the faintest hint of sweet vanilla lingering in the space between you two.

Or maybe it was just him. All of him. The way he hummed along to the country western songs playing through the bar’s speakers. The way he spoke to you with affection in his voice despite his gruff exterior. The way he talked about his Sarah: the pride while mentioning an A plus social studies paper followed by the anxiety while asking if he was talking about her too often. 

As if loving his daughter too much could scare you away. 

His scruffy beard and charm, his bad humor, his dad humor, his smile.

And the way he called you sugar, like that’s what you were to him. Nothing but sweetness and all too appetizing. Like he’d drink you up with his coffee every morning if you let him.

Your wandering hand made its way down to his thigh, resting just above his knee. He paused mid sentence and for a moment you worried you were being too forward. Your eyes meet his in a heated stare.

“You tryna’ misbehave there, sugar?”

You were and it landed you in Joel’s backseat, laid down with his body pinning yours. He’s kissing you. He’s still kissing you, hasn’t stopped since he pressed you up against his truck in the dark and nearly empty parking lot. He’s on your lips, until you have to pull away for air when he moves down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking along the way.

Your legs part for him, wrapping around his hips to dig your heels into the backs of his firm thighs. His hands find their way under your shirt, calloused fingertips forming gooseflesh across your skin before pulling the material up and over your head. He palms your heaving breasts, letting out a low groan at the feel of your soft flesh in his hands, before working his hands around to the clasp. Any restraint he might have had was tossed into the front seat with your bra.

Now he’s desperate, he’s hungry. 

His mouth is on you, all over. His tongue licking at the marks he left on your neck and chest, his teeth making more down your torso. Lips wrap around your nipple and you arch into his suckling, letting him consume even more of you. Every one of his filthy, reverent kisses is more fuel for the fire growing in you. You tug on his dark locks when he reaches the top of your skirt, running his tongue along the line where fabric meets skin.

“J-Joel, please,” you beg, surprising yourself at how wrecked you sound already.

“I wanna taste ya’, sweet thing,” he teases, looking up at you with mischief in his eyes.

Moving his head down between your legs, Joel places sloppy kisses up the inside of your thighs. You watch him with heavy eyes, shuddering as the coarse hair of his beard grazes your sensitive skin. He brings his face to the crotch of your panties, nose nudging your clit, before taking a deep inhale. He licks at you through the soft lace before pulling it off entirely. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he rasps, the heat of his breath against your cunt enough to make your hips buck. Unbothered by your writhing, Joel wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you open for him before licking a stripe through your slick folds. 

He groans at the taste of you. “Such a sweet pussy, so goddamn wet for me too.”

He dives in, circling your clit with his tongue before plunging inside you. Your thighs try to shut at the sensations, but his hands tighten their grip to hold you in place. You’re melting into his mouth and onto the seats, the fogged up windows an indicator of just how hot everything is right now. 

Then his thick fingers are inside you, thrusting deep and hitting that spot you always have trouble reaching dead on. His mouth wraps around your clit, sucking on it like hard candy.

“Gon’ get a cavity from all this sugar,” he mumbles into your pussy, and the rumble of his laugh vibrates through you.

He thinks he’s so goddamn funny…

“Oh fuck,” you cry out.

It hits you like a rocket. He curls his fingers just right and you’re seeing stars, being pulled up and away into the atmosphere. He doesn’t stop drinking you in until you’ve floated back down to Earth. 

Insatiable.

Your eyes are closed, but you feel his soft lips kissing your neck. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “Did so good for me, such a good girl.”

Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.

It’s like a trigger. All the satisfaction from your climax faded and was replaced by a deep need to be full of him, to take him in and again until you fell into the night sky together.

“Fuck me p-please, please Joel, I need it,” you whine, hands clinging to his broad shoulders.

“Oh sugar,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

Joel uses one hand to pull you into his lap and straddle his thighs, while the other unbuckles his belt. You scramble to undo his zipper, tug his pants and boxers down, and unveil his—

Oh fuck.

Whatever it was before, it’s definitely his huge dick now. You let out a whine when your fingers wrap around the base without being able to fully encircle it. He rolls a condom down over himself before gripping your hips and guiding you to hover over the flushed red tip. Your forehead is pressed against his as you sink down, gasping at the stretch.

“Good girl, that’s it. It’s big, ain’t it?”

You huff against his cheek, “S’ big.”

“You can take it. Gonna take all of my cock, sugar.”

You do. Your toes curl and you feel like he’s splitting you open, but you take all of him. He rubs circles on your clit, making you gush around him and relax enough to move. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you start rocking your hips and slowly finding a rhythm. Every thrust is electric and the sweet sounds of how wet you are fill the car.

You’re clamped around him, raising and falling harder, faster. Whimpers spilling out of your lips as Joel thrusts into you, meeting your hips with his. You were close, your climax was racing towards you when his thumb found your clit again. Just a few touches to the bundle of nerves and you were toppling over the edge, head thrown back then falling limp into his neck. You shake in his arms as he continues to fuck you in his lap, quickly reaching his own release.

“Fuckin’ goddamnit, sugar,” he pants into your ear as he finishes. 

He keeps you like that, strong arms holding your body close against his as you both catch your breath. You have no objections, nuzzling further into him and gently carding your fingers through his hair. It’s been a few minutes before he breaks the silence.

“Sugar?”

You hum and smile into his skin as a response.

“Could I get your number and, uh, maybe we do this again? Dinner too?”

He had the audacity to sound bashful while his cock was still inside you. You look up to see a pink tint to his cheeks, and you have to answer with a kiss. Slow and sweet.

---

💕💕💕 Thank you for reading 💕💕💕

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #hbo the last of us #hbo tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller imagine

[wingedhallows]

is that blood? ; sirius black

pairing: sirius x reader | 0.7k words plot: calling your boyfriend a whore wasn't the smartest thing to do, considering you're a bloodthristy slytherin. prompt: "is that blood? don't worry it's not mine. That's supposed to reassure me?" authors note: hope u like it :)

navigation

They were staring, of course. You brought a hand to your nose, which sat throbbing and probably bloody in the middle of your face. A sour look now on your face.

Your throbbing collarbone irritated you a tiny bit more. With a quick glance you looked at your hands, bloody and dirty. Though they were in that state for a good fucking reason.

“Black’s a total slut though.”

“I know, I bet he’ll dump that slytherin soon enough.” the other nodded her head. You stared at the two, mouth in a straight line. The anger gradually built in your chest as you listened to the girls some more. You had promised Sirius, no fights. Oh, how hard it was to keep that promise right now.

“I might just go for him mys-” she had no chance to finish her sentence as you had made your way over to the two Ravenclaws. With a quick motion you grabbed the back of her head, blonde curls in your balled fist as you yanked her off the bank.

Her body fell to the floor as the girl next to her shrieked, other students watched with wide eyes. 

“You wanna say that again?” you barked. You were never someone to just watch and listen. You were someone who beat the shit out of people.

“You crazy bitch.” she yelled out as without thinking, your fist connected with her face. 

“Oh, I’ll show you what a crazy bitch i am, you fuckin’ cunt.” your hands grabbed her head and slammed it down with as much strength as you were able to produce. With a grunt she kicked at you, catching you off guard. She was on top of you and quickly punched you in the nose. 

“Not my fault your boyfriend’s a whore.”

You saw red as you brought your elbow to her head and with a yell you brought your knee to her stomach. You got up and kicked her a few more times, there she laid, limb and heaving.

“Call him a whore one more time, I dare you.”

She coughed as you leaned over her, a hand held her face. Cheeks squished between your bloody fingers.

“Keep his name out of your filthy mouth.” you spoke, voice deep. Before you left her you took a breath and spat in her face. 

“Bitch.” you whispered.

You made your way to the Gryffindor table, gasping and whispering audible. 

“Yo, isn’t that your girl? James spoke, a finger pointed at you. 

Sirius’ head whipped to your approaching form, eyes wide. You gave him a small smile as you sat yourself down between the two. Lily and Remus, who sat in front of you, didn’t speak.

“Is that blood?” Sirius spoke, holding your hand in his. You chuckled and took the napkin which laid in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine.”

The liquid from his cup made its way down your throat, easing the scratchy feeling. Sirius took the napkin from your hands and began to wipe the blood on your face.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” he spoke. “What happened?” Moony asked, a hand held out with a piece of chocolate for you to take. With a small smile you accepted. 

“Some Ravenclaws thought it was a good idea to call my boyfriend names.” Sirius sighed and took a closer look at your nose. “Baby, we talked about this.” he paused and scrunched his eyebrows together as he looked at you. 

“There’s no need-”Don’t think for a moment that I won't defend you and I was kind of angry anyway.” you took a bite of the chocolate and raised your hand to stroke his cheek. 

“To defend your honor was just a bonus, pretty boy.”

Sirius just chuckled and gave your bruised nose a tap. “Ow!” you whined as you slapped his shoulder shortly after. 

“Let’s go to Madam Pomfrey’s, that is definitely broken.” 

“You pretty little minx.” He planted a kiss on your cheek as he took your hand in his. “Thank you for defending my honor, love.” you smiled and planted a kiss on his lips. 

“Always.”

Just as you two walked off you could hear James talk to Lily.

“Lily Pad, would you fight-”No, Potter.”

#harry potter angst #harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders era #marauders imagine #sirius black angst #the marauders #angst #harry potter fanfic #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black one shot #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders fluff

[trivia-yandere]

bad decisions

you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your brides' maids and maid of honor. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @whipwhoops

word count: 1.252

warning: stripper jimin, cheating reader, affair au, public sex, voyeurism, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, slight girl on girl, creampie, bad friends lol, revenge plot???, it's 2 am and this is what i thought of, lolz,

Valentine's Day Masterlist

You were beginning to remember when your fiancee didn’t like your friends. 

“They’re single and you aren’t.” was an argument you heard often. “They’ll influence you to act just as single as them.” was another.

With each argument, you were stern in shooting him down, stating that even if your friends were single and a bit out there - you weren’t. But you would say that the problem came deeper than that. Your soon to be husband had his own secret affairs - a drunk one at that - that resulted in a pregnancy and a child he pays for monthly, but refuses to see. Maybe that’s why he believes you’d do the same to him in an act of revenge - but you got over that part in the relationship (even if your friends were upset with you). You loved him, you thought.

Now as you watch your friends, all equally as drunk as you - if not more - scatter around the man, all on their knees. The sight is truly a filthy one - the hotel room lights were dim while the music played in the background. The man - Jimin was his name - stands before your friends, a cocky grin on his lips. He isn’t hesitating in allowing your friends to wrap their mouths around his cock, even allowing his eyes to flicker to you every few moments.

You shouldn’t be here, were your sober thoughts. You were getting married the following morning to the man you loved - this was just a bachelorette party with your friends. A party your fiancee was worried about you attending, but you assured him that it would be nothing.

This…this was not nothing.

“Just try it, Y/N.” one of your friends - a bridesmaid at that - slurs from Jimin’s cock, her hand pumping it. “Live in the moment.”

“I’m getting married tomorrow.” you shake your head slightly, hot underneath Jimin’s gaze. You swallow thickly - Jimin is an attractive man. His eyes are as sharp as his jawline, and he understands his beauty. He flaunts it and had since he appeared in the room as a dancer - one you were not expecting to see. 

“On Valentine’s day?” Jimin questions, his voice soft and smooth - almost melodic. “How sweet.”

You gulp, feeling your legs tighten together. You were not a prude - you and your friends had been in this position many times before. You all watched one another act far too whorish with a man - but this was different. You were to be wed just tomorrow - and they were inviting you in this filthy mess.

“Then why not enjoy your last night as a free woman doing something scandalous?” Jimin questions. He wraps his own hand onto his cock - thick and veiny with a red tip - and begins to pump. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Your heart is racing outside your chest. You feel yourself become nauseous with Jimin’s stare - it’s as though the room began to spin and it was just you and him, you are under his spell completely.

You don’t realize when you yourself fall to your knees and you crawl to the man - not until your lips are around said cock and you’re sucking him. His hands are tangled into your hair and he’s encouraging you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. You weren’t a free woman in the slightest - you had a soon to be husband. But the adrenaline running through you is intoxicating - it causes you to fit Jimin deeper and deeper into your throat until you’re gagging on him. And even then, you didn’t want to stop. 

Jimin’s moans hit your ears, his breathing hitching with each gag of your throat. Your fingernails clench his naked thigh to bring him even more - if possible - into your throat. You’re wet, lingering clenching onto your body so tight that you wish you could take it off and be free from it.

“Get up.” Jimin commands, soft voice bringing you back to reality. He removes his cock from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it. “You’re sucking like you haven’t been fucked in years.”

Your friends are hollering, all clapping and cheering. You allow Jimin to take you to the large bed, pressing you firmly against it. 

“Your husband’s lucky.” Jimin cackles, as if taunting you - mocking that you were cheating on the man you are to be married to. 

The lingerie isn’t taken off of you. Instead, Jimin hooks a finger into your pantie and pushes it aside. He whistles. “So wet. I knew you liked me, baby.”

The bed dips, your friends surrounding you. One friend - your maid of honor - is behind you. She offers a drunk smile and nods. “It’s okay, Y/N.” she assures  - but it wasn’t.

Your maid of honor holds your arms as Jimin enters you. Your back arches and you release a deep groan.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Jimin laughs, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He’s unsure just how influenced you are with your friends, but it cannot be a good sign if you were willing to cheat on your husband so easily. Yet, he cannot be bothered to care. 

Jimin pounds inside of you, wet skin hitting one another. The voices of your friends are background noise, a mix of laughter, moans and claps. You aren’t sure which friend is clenching your breasts, but you’re positive one has her hands on your clit.

“This is the wildest bachelorette party I attended.” Jimin grunts as you clench around him. Your friends were far too into it as you were, a few kissing one another while the rest pleasured you along with him. If you did this before, he isn’t certain - but neither of you appeared shy.

“Does it feel good?” your maid of honor asks, coming down to whisper in your ear. 

“Feels so good…!” you exclaim, your juices coating Jimin’s cock entirely - you didn’t even assure that he wore a condom. 

“How about you cum in her?” your maid of honor asks, laughing at your fucked out expression. “Give her a little present she’ll never forget.”

Jimin shudders, eyes wide. What exactly was your friend suggesting?

No matter, he thinks. You aren’t protesting, so why should he?

Jimin drills into you even harder, hell bent on doing what your maid of honor asked. You’re not denying him, you’re moaning for more and more and more-

“F-Fuck!” you shout, feeling yourself come undone before them, your friends fingers overstimulating your throbbing clit. 

Jimin’s cock is coated white with your cum and he cannot help but cum himself. He trembles, unsure when the last time he came in someone raw like this - and it was just as exciting. 

You feel tired when Jimin removes himself from inside of you, unable to open your eyes fully. 

“We can pay you extra.” your maid of honor suggests, noticing that you have fallen asleep. 

“No need.” Jimin murmurs, eyeing your sleeping figure. “What did you mean by leaving her a present she won’t forget?”

Your maid of honor chuckles. “No doubt she’ll be pregnant.” she says nonchalantly. “That husband of her’s cheated on her first and had a child. Y/N’s just dumb and agreed to stay with him. I say it’s karma. A little revenge.”

Jimin watches as your friend giggles even more. “Watching him raise another man's child while he ignores the child he had when he cheated on her.”

Jimin swallows, unsure of what to say in the situation. 

It was none of his business, Jimin thinks.

#bad decisions #trivia-yandere #trivia-yandere's valentine's day masterlist #bangtan smut #btswriterscollective #bangtanwriters net #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #btswritingcafe #bts smut #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bachelorette party #bts affair au #valentine's day

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hi, I have a request if you don't mind...

Any of the batboys [Or poly with all of them ;)] with an ultra-feminine Reader, with a filthy *wink* *wink* mouth.

She is very into dresses, makeup, dressing up and everything that is considered 'girly', and their mate just thinks she will be all soft and innocent too, how most guys think "Just how females are supposed to be" (Obv, not the bat boys cause they love their women all loud and powerful)

But she literally has the wildest, dirtiest, most unhinged thoughts and just says them without a second thought

and the first time it happens, during IC dinner, she says a string of swears or just says the most sexual thing to her mate and everyone in the IC eyes them and Nesta/Elain (who was a little cold to her for whatever reason) just goes "Ok I was wrong, I love this bitch"

Dirty mouth.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; SWEARING :') , suggestive

Masterlist.

Hello I really hope this is what you had in mind! I had so much fun writing this! If you don't like it you can always ask me to rewrite it I won't get offended. Hope you enjoy it! <3

When you first met Azriel, and the bond snapped you felt like the luckiest female in the world. The shadowsinger was the best mate someone could wish for, he treated you like a queen and even though it had only been six months since you accepted the bond, you felt like you knew everything about him.

You couldn’t say the same for him though since you decided to keep your bolder personality hidden not wanting to scare him away. Azriel only saw a female who cared about clothes and shopping with her friends, he told you how sweet and delicate you are multiple times and always tried to be soft in bed. At first you enjoyed all the protectiveness and affection but as the months passed you decided to stop overthinking before you spoke and let Azriel see who you really are.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“You should try these cookies, I got them from the new bakery” Feyre exclaimed and placed a big box on the dining table.

You were in the dining room at the house of wind with the inner circle, Azriel was sitting next to you with one protective wing wrapped around you.

Everyone took a cookie, including your mate who took a bite and let a soft moan.

“What was that?” Cassian chuckled.

“Oh he really likes it, that's the noise he makes when I suck his cock” you giggled.

Azriel choked on the cookie, Rhysand and Cassian gaped at you and the girls burst into laughter. You quirked a brow at Nesta who always gave you a hard time and she winked.

“What did you say?” Azriel asked when he stopped choking.

“That’s how you moan when I suck your cock just before you finish in my thro…” he covered your mouth with his palm and stared at you wide-eyed.

Nesta went hysteric and shouted, “okay I love you”.

That was the first time Azriel saw your true self and as the days passed and you made more comments like that and started cursing too his whole attitude changed and he finally started treating you like he wasn’t afraid of breaking you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were in a meeting with the inner circle and Eris to find a way to kill Beron, the Autumn heir though kept making offensive comments to your mate and you could feel your patience running thin.

“How does it feel to be touched by those disgusting hands?” Eris asked you and silence filled the room.

“Most of the times I squirt” you replied with a smirk. Eris frowned while Azriel’s breath hitched.

“What happened lordling? Cat got your tongue, or you just can’t process the fact that the shadowsinger fucks better than you?” you teased him and got up.

You grabbed the Truth-Teller from your mate and approached Eris.

“Do you know how many times he has fucked me with this?” you asked and touched the tip of the dagger on his cheek. Rhys tensed but Cassian grabbed his shoulder with a proud look.

Azriel’s face flushed, and he gaped at the scene in front of him.

“Do you want to have the honor to feel this inside you too?” you asked, and he shook his head, his face paled.

“Then I suggest shutting your fucking mouth before I sew it.” You growled and walked back to your mate.

The meeting finished after a while and Azriel cupped your jaw staring deep in your eyes

“You never fail to amaze me” he mumbled and kissed you “but to be honest you are scaring me a bit” he continued and smiled.

“And you haven’t seen all of me yet” you replied and pecked his nose before exiting the office, leaving a very worried shadowsinger inside.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time it happened you were having a game night with your friends, you and Azriel were winning but Cassian and Nesta were close behind only two points away.

“You have 7 red” Nesta said.

“Siphons” Cassian exclaimed.

“Oh and Azriel’s siphons are..”

“Blue”

“Time!” Feyre said.

“It’s a tie” Rhysand announced.

“Oh come on those were so easy like asking him what his name is” you protested and Azriel chuckled.

“No I’m just better than you” Cassian teased you.

“Oh fuck off brute” you scoffed, Azriel spat his wine and stared at you.

“Seriously you have to warn me before you do that.” He mumbled and grabbed a napkin.

“Does it hurt to share the victory you little bitch?” Cassian smirked.

“Does it hurt to know that your mate fakes it every night?” Cassian turned to Nesta who was laughing uncontrollably.

“You’re a cocksucker” He shouted and winked to show that he was just messing with you.

“And a good one, ask Azriel” your mate shook his head and glanced at Feyre who was covering Nyx' ears.

After a small fist fight with Cassian, you both burst into laughter and hugged.

“You act like babies” Rhysand spoke. “Shut up” you and Cassian said simultaneously making the high lord lean his head back with a desperate look on his face.

“Okay I think you had enough wine for tonight my little cocksucker” Azriel teased and grabbed your shoulders “Let’s get you in bed”.

“I will show you how good I am” you winked and let him guide you into your shared bedroom ignoring Cassian’s gags.

After a while Azriel got used to your dirty mouth and the way you threatened whoever disrespected him and actually enjoyed it. He felt good having someone to protect him for a change and fight his battles. A few months later he noticed that he started cursing more and was horrified when he realized that he was acting like you, later he started making vulgar comments too and everyone groaned “Now we have two of them”. You had never felt prouder for your mate.

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #rhysand #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #shadowsinger x reader #night court #inner circle #acotar fanfic #cassian acotar #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta acotar #nesta x cassian #the night court #velaris #city of starlight #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #acowar #acomaf

[milf-murdock]

Captain

Younger!Captain John Price x Reader

Summary:  Price just got promoted to captain, and then inadvertently discovers he really likes it when you call him by his new title. Like, he really likes it. How do we celebrate this new promotion and self discovery?? By fucking in an elevator of course! Warnings: SMUT!! So much fucking smut. Established relationship. P in V. Oral (male receiving). Fingering (female receiving). Fucking in an elevator ?? Listen this is just so fucking filthy. Porn with some plot. But also of course I had to end it with fluff because I don’t know when to stop.  I don’t fucking know how elevators work. We go with it. 

Also, check out this beautiful piece of art by @ wombywoo for the most beautiful Captain Price photo inspiration

“I knew you’d look good in these new dress blues,” you smirked, brushing off invisible lint from John’s jacket with your spare hand as you admired the glint of the many medals and honorifics that decorated your husband’s chest—including the three shiny gold stars that represented his new rank. Your other hand held a pair of high heels as uncomfortable as they were stunning and you had rid your aching feet of the offending items as soon as you and John were in the relative privacy of the elevator, heading up to your hotel suite. The swanky hotel was a little surprise of yours to John, knowing he wouldn’t want to travel all the way back home after a long day of ceremony and celebration.

You and John had just left the ceremony honoring his latest promotion to Captain. It was a night full of pride, honor, and maybe just a few too many glasses of wine post-ceremony, if you were being honest. 

“I was under the impression you thought I look good in everything,” John drawled, his lips twitching upwards, a hint of a smile gracing his face. 

“Oh is that so…Captain Price,” you playfully quipped and watched as John’s lips curved upwards even more, a slight flush creeping up his neck. 

You opened your mouth to comment again on his new rank, enjoying the momentary power trip–it wasn’t often you could incite this kind of reaction from your lover, when a soft ding  warned you that the elevator had reached your floor. You smothered your frown, taking a step off the elevator before stumbling over the silken hem of your gown. A strong hand gripped your elbow to steady you, another reaching around to rest firmly on your waist. Before you could attempt another step, a force abruptly pulled you backwards, your back pressing against John’s muscled torso. His warm breath caressed your neck as he dipped his head low. “Say it again,” he all but growled, his lips ghosting your neck in a way that sent heat straight to your core. You couldn’t help the slight arch of your back in response, noting with pure satisfaction the reaction you were garnering from John. You could feel his hardened arousal through the pristine dress slacks, and your cunt clenched in response. 

“Well now, love, here’s the thing,” you tease, pressing your backside against his hardened member and relishing John’s sharp intake of breath in response. “I don’t take orders from you.” You felt the rumble deep in his chest as he took the bait, his fingers all but slamming the keypad to shut the doors to the elevator. Confusion flitted across your face, but John didn’t even hesitate as he forcefully pressed the bright red stop button to halt the elevator completely.

A brief alarm sounded, followed by a robotic voice that was no doubt meant to sound soothing as it reassured passengers that the elevator had been stopped and help would be arriving soon. Understanding began to dawn as John released his hold on you, and you turned to see his familiar blue eyes peering down at you, ravenous. 

“If you don’t take orders from me,” John’s voice was low and steady, a hint of that tameless lust just under the surface. “Then please, do tell me, who do you take orders from?” He took a step closer, towering above you with a piercing glare. Reflexively, you took a step back. Well, tried to–the elevator door pressed up against you, and you weren’t  sure if it was the sudden coolness of the metal or the heat of your husband's gaze that caused the shiver that shot up your spine. 

“Well, that would be…” you  swallowed hard, wracking your brain for a name, any name. “Umm,”  you attempted to buy yourself time, but you felt as though every coherent thought you’d ever had eddied out of your mind, a ravenous need overtaking your entire body. All you could think about is John and how damned good he looked in that fucking uniform. As if reminding yourself, your eyes trailed downward, soaking in every last detail of his new dress uniform. Your gaze stopped short upon seeing the evident outline of his arousal and you instinctively bit down on your bottom lip to conceal your moan. 

John took another step to you, quickly closing the small distance between you two. You felt his firm grip on your chin, forcing your head to tilt up and meet his gaze. Passion burned in his eyes and you felt the last of your resolve melting away. Fuck being witty right now, you thought to yourself, I need this. As if he read your mind, John’s lips crashed against yours and your entire body ignited with need. Your fingers tangled in his hair and every inch of your body pressed up against him. John’s hands gracefully slid down your hips, cupping the upper back of your thighs. You took the sign for what it was, giving a little jump as he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He didn’t even break the kiss, just pressed your back against the doors of the  elevator, grinding his erection into your core. The friction was practically electric and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you break the kiss. You leaned your head against the steel frame and John’s lips moved to your newly exposed neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh. He took the thin strap of your gown between his teeth and  before you could so much as utter a warning, he ripped it straight from the gown. Without its integral support, the delicate satin of the bust fell down, exposing one of your breasts. 

“God damn it, John, that was expensive,” you chastised halfheartedly, your chest rapidly rising and falling as he once again ground into you. As if in apology, John peppered kisses across your exposed breast before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Your complaints died in your throat as your body became alight with pleasure. As he continued his ministrations, he pinned you against the wall with his body, freeing one hand to gently slide your remaining strap down your arm, exposing the other breast in a manner completely opposite to its torn counterpart. John switched his attention to the other breast, gingerly taking your other nipple into his mouth. He took a moment to adjust your position against the elevator, one hand cupping your ass as the other hand slid between your bodies. For the second time that night you heard John’s sharp intake of breath as he brushed your bare self. 

“Are you really telling me you didn’t wear underwear to such a formal event?” he breathed out, barely concealing his moan at finding you bare and ready for him. “For fuck’s sake,” he breathed out, “you are so wet for me.”

You couldn’t help but let out a slight breathy laugh. “I told you I like the uniform,” you panted before your sassy remarks were replaced by cries of pleasure as two of John’s fingers plunged into your aching cunt. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

John. John. John. 

Your body was lost in the passion, his lips on your breasts, his fingers curling towards himself, hitting that spot that makes you see fucking stars. He’s relentless, devouring you–mind, body, and soul.  Before you knew it, you were on the brink of pure bliss. “John,”  you gasped, “I’m going to come,” you warned, though you knew it wasn’t necessary. Knowing your husband and all your years together, he knows exactly when you’re on the edge just as well as he knows exactly how to pleasure you to get you there. He is as in tune with your moans and sighs of pleasure as he is with his own heartbeat. 

His fingers picked up the pace, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come for me, my love,” John purred in your ear, and the low timbre of his voice combined with the heat of his words had you tumbling over the edge of pleasure, his name on your lips as stars crossed your vision. 

You slowly drifted back to reality as John pressed soft kisses across your chest, trailing up your neck and back to your lips. He set you down on shaky legs, supporting you with his strong grip. 

Having finally caught your breath, you took a second to take stock of the sight before you: John’s dark hair, once perfectly styled, now a mess, the ironed jacket now crumpled and partially undone, and worse of all, those brand new dress pants now clearly soaked through with a mix of  his precum and your juices. The sight had your mouth watering. You fell to your knees before the captain, hands reaching up to unfasten his belt. It fell to the floor with a satisfying clank, but you didn’t even flinch.Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip as you oh-so-slowly began to free John's cock. 

A low hiss escaped John’s lips as you took his bulging member into your hand. Your hand glided across the surface, eyes drinking in the veritable feast before you. No matter how many times you had been with John, his size always took you by surprise. The length, the girth, the thick vein that ran along the underside. Sliding back the uncut skin, your attention shifted to the deep red head, your thumb swiping a bead of precum from the tip. John’s gasp only encouraged you to lean forward and take the tip into your mouth, his fingers instantly tangling in your hair. Your mouth slid down his length, struggling to take as much of him in as you could. You used your hand to take whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, and your mouth and hand worked in tandem to pleasure him. John’s quiet moans and growls of pleasure only spurred you on, and you worked to take more of him in your mouth. Only once the head of his cock hit the back of your throat did you stop, looking up at him with tears in your eyes, mascara trailing down your cheek. His loving gaze peered down at you, his lips ajar as he panted with need. 

The sight of you, on your knees before him, looking up at him from under your dark lashes, his cock resting in your mouth–it almost sent him over the edge. It took everything he had to pull himself out of your mouth. You sat on your knees, looking up at him as he closed his  eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. A brief moment of uncertainty flashed across your face,  “Was it…not good for…” you trailed off, slightly confused why he stopped you. You weren’t one to brag, but you certainly hadn’t had any complaints before. Before you could even finish the sentence, John pressed a finger to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he breathed out. “I wasn’t going to last like that,” he finished, a small smile at the edge of his lips as he helped lift you to your feet. “And I’m not done with you,” he growled as his lips crashed against yours once more, but this time there was even more urgency in his kiss. He pressed your back against the elevator wall, sliding the skirt of your dress up your hips so he could lift you up again. Your legs wrapped around his waist, causing his throbbing member to brush up against your soaking wet cunt. Biting back a groan, John repositioned his hips to line up with your entrance.  With a growl, he slid home, your earlier orgasm helping his cock slide in with ease. You can feel and hear the groan deep in John’s throat as he bottoms out, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. 

John’s forehead dipped to touch yours, his unsteady breathing matching yours. His hips froze as he waited for you to adjust. You waited a few beats, relishing the delicious stretch, before you gave a nod of approval. Supporting you with his hands, he pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slamming home. Your head fell back to the cool metal wall as you gasped in pleasure. John continued the action, hips colliding with yours, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you. Your moans got louder, joining in the symphony of your bodies slapping against one another, the soft beat of your body against the wall of the elevator as John railed into you. 

It was too much. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you didn’t think  you could take much  more. “Yes,” you cred out,  “Yes, Fuck me, Captain,” you pant out, extra emphasis placed on his title. John’s hips stuttered at hearing  that word on  your  lips  once more . With a growl he slammed into you even harder. “Again,” his voice so low it sent a shiver straight to your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged, as his hips piston in and out of you with abandon, veritably nailing you to the wall with his cock. He hit that delicious spot deep within you and every thrust pulled  you closer and closer to  bliss.  “Captain,” you cried out before biting John’s shoulder as your orgasm crests, washing over you in endless waves of pleasure. You bit down harder than intended, but you don’t have time to regret it, not as John loses all semblance of control, thrusting into you with abandon. He thrust into you once, twice, and a final time as he came with a grunt of pleasure and his hips stuttered as he flooded you with his come. 

Your breaths were ragged, foreheads pressed against each other, feeling every twitch of his cock deep inside you. After a few beats, John withdrew, gently lowering you to the ground on legs that felt less than stable. He made sure to tuck himself back into his uniform and  adjust the remaining strap on your dress. You kept your grip on him, balancing yourself, as you felt his hot seed start to drip down your leg. An attempted step forward proved to be too much in your addled state, your leg threatening collapse as soon as you tried to step away from John. Without a word, John scooped you up into his arms, just like on your wedding night, before pressing a series of buttons on the elevator keypad. The elevator gave a small jolt back to life, and you found yourself thankful that John was holding onto you so tightly. Like nothing happened, John stepped off the lift and crossed you over to your suite.

You dozed in and out of consciousness in your blissed-out, post-orgasmic state, but came to as John gingerly laid you on the bed. He  helped slide you out of your dress, and you made a mental note to berate him in the morning for ruining your dress, already mapping out when he would take you shopping for its replacement. You watched in silence as John disassembled his uniform and set it out almost reverently before crawling into bed next to you. Rolling onto your side, you laid your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I am so  proud of you, Captain Price,” you murmured. His hand trailed slow,  lazy circles over  your arm and down your back, pulling you closer into him. “Everything I do is for you,” John replied, his voice barely  above a whisper. He pressed his lips to the top of  your head, “I love you.” 

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price x reader #captain John price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #captain price #john price imagine #captain john price x you

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 5)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4)

When Cinderella is very young, her mother calls her little Cinder.

“You came to be when your father and I’s love came together,” she explains to her daughter. She brushes Cinderella’s hair from her face with a tender touch. “The fire of our passion gave us you. One day, my little Cinder, you’ll ignite and be a beautiful fire all your own.”

“Our Cinder.” Her father laughs when Cinderella relays the story over dinner. “Our Cinder-ella, hm?”

Little Cinderella refuses to be called anything else. There’s a warm power in her new name that tickles her chest every time one of her parents calls her by it. Her father is concerned, but her mother laughs.

“It is still a name we’ve given her,” her mother says when he voices his concerns. “She is a child. Let her grow into her true name in her own time, dear.”

Her father grudgingly acquiesces. “Nobody is going to take her seriously with that sort of nickname.”

“Perhaps the right people will,” her mother says. She smiles at Cinderella who’s playing in front of the fire. “Time will only tell.”

And so Cinderella becomes her name. She clings to it like a talisman. When her mother dies, nobody calls her Cinder anymore, but Cinderella is just as good when it comes from her father’s mouth, even when it stops bringing the warmth to her chest the way it used to. Him calling her that means he remembers. It means he cares.

Her stepsisters make fun of her for it. Cinder means coal, they say. Soot. Dirt. A fitting name for her who is always so filthy after raking leaves and tending fires. They tell her that it’s no wonder her father doesn’t come back home with dirt for a daughter.

Cinderella still loves her name, but she knows that she’s become sensitive to sharing it. The years of mockery bruised her in a way she didn’t expect. The people she wanted to love her never treated her name with respect. They never asked about the origin of it. So she hoards her name like one of the few possessions she has left, only sharing it when she’s sure she won’t be teased again.

Is it any wonder she never told the boy her name? Half frozen in winter and so vulnerable she thought it better to keep this last bit of warmth to herself than share it with her rescuer? By the time she noticed the gap in their meeting, it was too late. The boy in the tree never gave her his name so, by example, she never gave hers either.

That’s going to make finding him at the ball a little difficult.

Cinderella accepts the gloved hand of the coachman, stepping down onto cobblestone laid so smoothly she knows she won’t have trouble walking through the castle doors alone. The coachman escorts her anyway, placing her hand into the crook of his arm like she’s a real noble lady.

Cinderella keeps her chin up. She’s not a real noble lady, but tonight she must act like one. Isn’t that the point of the invitation? Her back burns from holding her shoulders properly. She looks up at the glittering castle, lit by sconces along the exterior wall, and thinks, I must fit in.

“The Master of Ceremonies is in charge of announcing the arrival of guests,” the coachman says. He’d only given Cinderella one startled look when Helga took her to him and then he’d become impossible to read. His tone is polite, but distant. “Is there a name or title you’d like to go by?”

She can’t be announced. All at once the reality of her decision crashes down on her. Knowing her stepmother and stepsisters, they’re already inside. If Cinderella is announced, they’ll know that she disobeyed them, that she shrugged off their “mischief” and gained some sponsor they knew nothing about to get here.

“…I am simply the daughter of an absent baron,” Cinderella says at last. The entrance is fast approaching, a short line of nobles waiting patiently to be announced and let into the event. “Surely it is too much of an honor to be announced by the same person responsible for announcing the King and Queen.”

The coachman falters. She wouldn’t have caught it if she weren’t looking so closely. His next step is a little too short for Cinderella’s and his arm twitches before relaxing again.

“Many choose to be announced by their titles alone,” he says at last. He glances at Cinderella from the corner of his eye. Is it her imagination or is there interest in his gaze? “If I may offer some advice?”

“I would never turn away advice,” Cinderella says. Her heart is starting to beat too quickly. The nobles in front of her are gorgeous. The fabrics and ornaments adorning them are just as extravagant as those on her own gown. She’s going to the same place as them, may even dance with some of them. She’s nervous, yes, but also excited.

“There will be those who ask for your name,” the coachman says. He sounds as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “You may give it to them, of course, if you choose. However, this is a ball. You aren’t on trial and you owe no debts. You may give them something to call you, as you have just given me, but that is the extent of what is required. Do you understand?”

Cinderella doesn’t. She hums as the line moves forward, twisting his words around in her mind. “I will consider your words.”

The coachman’s lip twitches. “See that you do.”

He is warmer to her than he has been since picking her up from the Emerald Castle. As they wait, he whispers the positions of the nobles around them. Duchess of Blackwood’s son and heir, Earl of Northlake’s child, Viscount Sinset’s daughter—

Cinderella drinks in the information as quickly as she can, grateful for the way matching each name to a face soothes her nerves.

Then, all at once, it’s her turn to go in.

She goes to let go of the coachman’s arm, but he holds onto her hand for a moment. For the first time, he looks at her directly. His eyes are silver and shining in the candlelight, the wrinkles along his mouth tight with determination.

“You owe no debts,” he whispers urgently. Feverishly. His hand squeezes hers and he looks over his shoulder as if afraid of eavesdroppers. “Remember, baron’s daughter.”

Then the moment is over. The coachman straightens, face impassive, and he goes to whisper her title to the Master of Ceremonies. Then, duty done, he slinks back out to the carriage without once meeting Cinderella’s eyes again.

“Baron’s daughter,” the Master of Ceremonies calls. He extends his hand to Cinderella. He helps her over the threshold. “Have fun.”

Cinderella is thrust into a world of color.

The ballroom is huge, the ceiling soaring at the height of her father’s manor. Her father’s manor could fit into this room, in fact. Columns along the edges etched with beautiful faces and vines support the vaulted ceiling. There are strange and fantastic mosaics everywhere she looks. The same night sky that she’d seen in the Emerald Castle curls like a river through depictions of fruit and flowers. The mosaic leaks down from the ceiling to the walls where it bursts into stars.

Tables filled with gold plates and crystal flutes line the hall. Food Cinderella has only ever seen in books fills them. Chicken with flesh so moist it glistens in the candlelight. Fruit tarts and cakes, bite-sized pies, a tower of finger sandwiches. The glasses glitter next to the spread. As she watches, one man fills two with a bubbling liquid the color of ambrosia and then darts away to a waiting lady.

Oh, and the people! The music! The laughter!

A dance is happening already. The nobles look like works of art come to life, swooping and twirling in the center of the hall. Their gowns and suits glitter with every move, their wide smiles gleaming, an inner glow coming through their skin. The music is so sweet that Cinderella almost wants to laugh herself for the joy of it. Some of them are laughing, open and gaily like children experiencing the sun after a long winter.

Cinderella can’t join them yet. It’s an effort to wrestle the bubble of joy rising in her chest back, but she manages it. Cinderella is pragmatic. Cinderella is patient. She keeps to the edges of the hall, putting the buffet tables between herself and the dancing for a moment. She wants to take it all in, to paint this night like a portrait in her mind before she joins.

And, most importantly, she wants to know where her stepfamily is before she loses herself in merriment.

It doesn’t take long to find them. They almost find her first. Cinderella is forced to duck behind a carved column as they pass.

“—asked to dance,” Anastasia is saying. She plucks a glass of champagne from the nearest table and then whines when her mother quickly snatches it away. “Why didn’t you let me accept?”

“It isn’t polite to dance before the Prince arrives,” Stepmother says. She sighs and hands Drizella a handkerchief when she picks up one of the finger sandwiches. “Don’t you dare get anything on your dress, either of you. You must look your best when the Prince is announced.”

“I want to watch the musicians,” Drizella says. She points to the front of the hall, just left of the dais where a small orchestra is concentrating on their instruments. “I’ve never seen a harp before!”

Cinderella steps out from behind the column when she hears their retreating footsteps. It is her first time seeing any of their gowns. They’re beautiful. Drizella’s managed her hair on her own and it shines under the candlelight. Her dress is lilac with silver embroidery. For a moment, Cinderella is worried. No one else in the hall is wearing purple. Is the lighter color enough to not offend the Royalty?

Anastasia is wearing a green gown with a daring back. The green is deeper than Cinderella’s, but bright enough to enhance the glittering blue embroidery along the skirt and bodice. She’s still carrying herself like she’s real nobility, her toes flashing out from under her hem with every step.

Stepmother is more understated. Her steel grey dress is demure enough in color to show that she’s a mother, but the cut is very similar to the fashionable nobles around her. She looks like a portrait from a time gone by with her ruffled collar and pinned hair.

They’re beautiful and the longing resurges brutally. What would it have been like if Cinderella were part of them? If they were family? If they accepted her love and loved her back? Would she be dressed in another color? Would she be laughing with Anastasia at the opulence of the chandeliers above them?

“May I ask you to dance?”

Cinderella doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. A young man is at her elbow, gloved hand extended to her. He’s dressed simply compared to other gentlemen she’s seen, his suit a traditional black with only an orange pocket square for color. He’s wearing a mask like he’s at a masquerade and where his suit is simple, his mask is ornate. The orange fabric is coated in translucent gems.  Behind it, his eyes are odd. Are his pupils too large? Too narrow?

“Yes,” Cinderella says. She doesn’t think it’s rude to dance before the Prince arrives. If it was, why would the music already be playing?  Feeling uncharacteristically bold, she says, “You may ask.”

The man’s smile widens. He sweeps an elegant bow and asks, “May I have this dance?”

Cinderella laughs. She accepts the man’s hand. “We may share this dance. Depending on how it goes, I may let you have it.”

“Clever,” the man says and sweeps her away.

She’s grateful when her dance partner leads her to the opposite side of the hall as her stepfamily. That’s all she has a chance to feel before the dance consumes her.

Cinderella was worried that she wouldn’t be a good dancer. And, she thinks, she’s not. But her partner is and with his gentle guidance, she finds herself remembering the cadence of the steps. The music throbs in her chest. Faster than she thought possible, she’s spinning, twirling, and gliding with her partner. It’s fun. It feels natural.

“You said you were out of practice,” her partner accuses.

“I am,” Cinderella says. Her body is thrumming. She feels so completely present that she can’t help but laugh. She smiles up at him. “This is wonderful.”

The man seems stunned by her sudden joy. He stumbles, falling out of sync with Cinderella on a turn. Cinderella is quickly pulled into the arms of another partner.

“Iz,” her previous partner growls.

Iz, a dark-haired young man, laughs and guides Cinderella into the next song. “There are many young ladies who haven’t been asked for a dance.” He winks at Cinderella and patiently waits for her to adjust to the faster tempo of the song. “We’d best let them have a chance to be swindled, hm?”

“He was very polite,” Cinderella defends without heat. Her previous partner didn’t seem actually upset. Is it common practice to cut in at balls? “Unlike some, he asked me for a dance.”

Iz, rather than being chastised, is delighted. His handsome face splits into a genuine smile, showing Cinderella sharp teeth. “He did, did he? What did you say?”

The song is fast and complicated. Cinderella pauses a moment before answering, focusing on her footwork. When she succeeds in not stepping on his feet, she laughs. “What does it matter? We’re dancing now.”

Iz supports her in a turn that leaves her toes barely skimming the floor. When he sets her back down, he asks, “If I asked you for a dance, what would you say?”

Cinderella considers that. Iz is handsome, his face unobstructed by a mask. He seems less intense than her first partner, but darker. His sharp teeth wink at her and, though she’s not afraid, she doubts she’d have teased him like she teased the masked man. “It might be best you didn’t ask.”

“Ouch.” Iz adjust his hold on her waist. “I suppose I’ll just need to do better than him, hm?”

He certainly tries. Iz is a wonderful dancer, even better than her masked partner. He isn’t as gentle, but he isn’t rough either. When Cinderella is unsure of the steps, he pushes her into them or lifts her to accommodate. The dance feels like a competition rather than a dance at times. The moment Cinderella feels herself catching up to Iz’ pace, he pulls out another trick.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Cinderella pants after a particularly low dip.

“Forgive an old man his strategies,” Iz says, pulling her back up. He lifts his chin. “I have a reputation here. I can’t have just anybody out dancing me.”

“And yet here I am,” Cinderella teases. Old man? She doesn’t ask.

“Here you are,” Iz agree gravely. He holds her hand as Cinderella passes around him. Their song is ending, seamlessly sliding into the next. “I’ll have to know the name of my conqueror, hm?”

She nearly tells him. “I’m—” she catches his eye and her words falter. There’s a hunger in his gaze that chases some of the warmth from her limbs. She finishes “—a baron’s daughter.”

Iz’ hand tightens on hers. “But surely even baron’s daughters have names—ouch!”

A fan collides with the back of Iz’ head. Surprised, he lets go of Cinderella and, for the second time that night, Cinderella is pulled into another’s arms.

“Better luck next time,” the woman tells Iz. She’s a ray of red from her hair to her dress to the jewels on the toes of her shoes. She uses her full skirts to block Iz from reaching for Cinderella again. “I’ll be taking this dance.”

Luckily the next song is slow. The mysterious woman doesn’t speak to Cinderella for the first quarter of it as Cinderella catches her breath. She picks a gliding step that gets them away from Cinderella’s previous partners. Their skirts, green and red, are striking when they brush against the other.

Finally, the red woman speaks. “We’re supposed to be on our best behavior. Cy and Iz clearly don’t have best in their vocabulary. I hope you weren’t frightened.”

Cinderella’s brow furrows. “Frightened?”

“It’s already such a mess,” the woman continues as if not hearing Cinderella. She’s taller than Cinderella and her eyes are fixed on the ballroom over Cinderella’s head. “What the King and Queen were thinking…”

For the first time, Cinderella looks away from her partner. She doesn’t see anything out of place that could be construed as a “mess.” The guests are still dancing, their jewels and beading flashing in the candlelight. There is still laughter in the air. The tables are full of food and drink. Sure, the laughter is a little strained, but Cinderella can understand that. She’s feeling a little tired herself.

“I don’t understand,” Cinderella says.

The red woman looks down to study Cinderella. Her face is kind, round cheeks and high, arching brows. She purses her lips. “You seem fine.” She seems to think for a long moment. “There are rules that some of the more…provincial nobles aren’t aware of.”

“Like a special etiquette?”

“Exactly. A special sort of etiquette only taught in the Capital.” The red woman examines Cinderella again. “Though you seem to know a few rules?”

Does she? Cinderella hasn’t been doing anything differently than what her mother taught her. Uncomfortable with the intensity of the woman’s stare, Cinderella pulls away before the start of the next song. “This dance has been lovely, but I’m afraid I lack the endurance for another. I’ll excuse myself.”

“Ah, well, I can’t fight exhaustion,” the red woman says. She sweeps a curtsy to Cinderella. “They call me Morrigan, lady. I’d be honored if you did the same.”

Courtesy dictates Cinderella reciprocates, but she’s no longer feeling warm and joyful. The laughter that had been so uplifting is beginning to sound grating and discordant. The sweet music is insistent, pounding at Cinderella’s bones. She does her best to push the sensation away. She begins to feel light-headed. “You honor me. I’m only a mere baron’s daughter.” She turns to go.

The red woman blocks Cinderella before she can leave the dance floor. Her eyes (And are her eyes red?) dart around the floor. She leans in close to Cinderella’s ear. “I like your sense and so I will give you a warning. Don’t stay another night, baron’s daughter. Go home. Tonight.”

“Pardon?” Cinderella asks.

But Morrigan has already been swept away by the dancers again, there and gone in a blink.

Cinderella stumbles past the buffet tables. Her head is ringing. There’s something about the music – she can’t shut it out. No, it’s the laughter. It sounds disingenuous now. She presses a hand to her temple and looks for a patio or something where she can get fresh air.

Behind her, the music is fading. The Master of Ceremonies calls, “All bow for the entrance of her majesty and his majesty, the King and Queen!”

Cinderella doesn’t stop. She ducks down the first hall she finds. The heat that’s been rising in her breaks like a bubble and Cinderella nearly sags to the floor in relief. She didn’t realize how hot she was, how tightly wound, how tense. However, she has better manners than to collapse here and better sense than to be found ignoring the entrance of the King and Queen.

She continues down the hall, looking for a door to a courtyard or a private room. But the flagstone hall is so empty that she can hear the echo of voices from the ballroom even after coming all this way. The first few doors she tries are locked.

Cinderella finds the emptiness of the hall soothing after the sensory overload that was the ballroom. The pictures on the walls are dark in color scheme and impersonal in subject. A bowl of fruit with a handful of grapes scattered around the base. A wonderfully detailed portrait of a lamb and a haystack. A book laid out on a table with a fountain pen propped up on its spine. A tree standing on a hill, the dry grass surrounding it waving in an invisible wind.

The tree. Cinderella wants to talk to her friend. Now, far away from the ball, she feels…unsettled. She’s never been around so many people before. She’d felt so confident and bold in the moment, but she doesn’t know. Is it obvious that she’s never worn a dress like this? Did her dance partners laugh at her when she left? Why did Morrigan warn her away from another night at the ball? Because she could sense Cinderella doesn’t belong?

At last there’s a set of french doors along the hall. One is already partially cracked and the cool breeze that rolls through it feels like a balm against Cinderella’s flushed skin. She slips past the fluttering curtain and into a courtyard.

“Beautiful,” Cinderella breathes. Her breath fogs the air and she rubs her arms against the chill. There’s an oak tree in the center of a square of greenery. Directly overhead, the moon is big and full over the castle’s roofline. Carefully tended flowers frame a stone path directly up to the base of the tree. At the trunk is a small bench, just big enough for two people.

Cinderella follows the path. She doesn’t know if she’s trespassing, but would it matter? Everyone, including the royal family, is at the ball. She just needs a moment here and then she’ll be gone like she was never there. She sits on the bench and closes her eyes in relief. Her feet throb when her weight leaves them. She’s not used to heels.

“Didn’t you have a nice time dancing?”

The chill is chased away. The sound of the breeze through the oak tree vanishes. Without having to open her eyes, Cinderella knows that there are rainbows of magic in the air, twining under the moonlight like phantoms.

Cinderella smiles. “Hello, my friend.”

Her friend’s presence surrounds her, and Cinderella lets the last of her tension go.

-----------

We finally meet her friend again! Next part will be up next week, or is already available on my Patreon (X)

See y’all next week! I’m anticipating two or three more parts to this :)

#my writing #long post #Cinderella fan fiction #cinderella retelling

[swordcreature]

Could I request kissing headcanons for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor?

anon i just loved thinking about how these guys kiss. i had to keep this to a medium length because 1. i could literally go on forever and 2. there are barely any others ways to say the word kiss without sounding silly. i typed the word kiss so many times it stopped looking like a real word.

that being said i hope you like it!!!!

Dammon, Rolan, & Zevlor - Kissing

can i get through one simple request without making sexual suggestions? the answer is no. MDNI/18+

How the tiefling boys kiss you

Dammon: 

Gosh I could think of so many ways Dammon shares his love with kissing. 

Sweet kisses where he holds your face in both of his hands and just presses his lips against yours again and again and again. 

Unhurried, lusty kisses with one hand on your hip, the other lightly on your neck while his tongue enters your mouth to tease you. 

Quick, tiny pecks throughout the day just to feel his lips on yours, even if it’s just for a second. 

Tired kisses in the middle of the night when he wakes up needing to feel your lips!!! 

I feel like Dammon is totally the type of guy to always smile into a kiss. Doesn’t matter if it’s a chaste smooch or something more heated, he’s happiest when your lips are locked and he’s not afraid to show it! 

He can’t help but love the way you taste against his mouth. It’s addicting to him, and it reminds me of how other parts of you taste.  

So, no surprise here that kissing often leads to other activities, if you catch my drift. 

A little bit of me thinks it’s a part of an oral fixation; he really likes using his mouth for the purpose of pleasure.  

And boy does he have a talented tongue. 

But also, he’s a romantic at heart! And he devotes himself, heart and soul, to his partner –  wanting to show love to them however possible. Kissing is just an easy, natural way to do it.  

Of course, he’s learned how to let his emotions flow through his lips.  

Rolan: 

Okay first. Angry kisses. Rolan, frustrated with you for whatever reason, pulling you against him roughly. Holding your jaw tightly. Kissing you firmly as though it may ease some of his anger. His angry kisses are slow and methodical as he works through his more stubborn emotions.  

I imagine those kisses lead to more, a lot of the time.  

He seems like the type of person to equate any type of strong emotion with kissing though. 

Annoyed? He pins you against the wall just quickly shut you up with one long kiss, hands at your waist.  

Happy? He pulls you in with his tail around your wrist, to place little pecks all over your face until you’re both giggling.  

Sad? He clings to you for dear life. Caging you in with his arms and just holding you against his mouth with only minimal movement, only wanting to feel you, to know you’re real and there with him. 

I see him as someone that doesn’t do very salacious kisses unless it’s in the bedroom. He doesn’t care to be seen with his tongue down your throat by anyone (except maybe if you get him drunk enough, but even then, it’s a long shot), so he saves that for when you’re alone.  

But when you are? He loves to suck on your tongue. Love when you kitten lick into his mouth to get his lips open.  

Whereas Dammon is a smiley kisser, Rolan is a “brow furrowed in concentration” kisser. CHANGE MY MIND. 

Zevlor: 

Zevlor is a reserved kisser a lot of the time.  

Trying to get this man to give you any more than a quick peck when you’re out and about is near impossible.  

He’s just old fashioned, an honorable guy, and he thinks those kinds of things are best done in private – to be enjoyed only by the two involved. 

Every once in a while, he will indulge just a bit further. He’ll put his hands on your hips and let his lips linger just a little longer than normal. But this is heavily dependent upon where he is, who he’s with, etc.  

And it always ends with him flushing such a pretty shade of deep red.  

When you are alone? Listen. Zevlor can be a filthy kisser.  

He tilts your head back so he can angle you in the right way to open your lips with his tongue, massaging yours with a wet, open mouth. He kisses like he goes down on you: messy in the best of ways. 

These kisses aren’t even always saved for the bedroom either. Sometimes he wants to kiss you passionately, just because. 

Of course, he has soft, romantic kisses too. He’s the kind of man to settle your worries with a kiss.  

An anchoring kiss when he surrounds you – so that you can lose yourself in his embrace, forgetting about the outside world. 

A calming kiss when you need a distraction – so he can pull you out of thoughts for a moment to focus on his lips.  

It’s like any fear or problem you have, Zevlor can fix it with his lips. Or his tongue. 

#bg3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 smut #my writing #dammon #zevlor #rolan #requests/suggestions #dammon x reader #zevlor x reader #rolan x reader #anon #hcs

[eustasskidagenda]

Hello! I love your writing! May I request some fluff with Kid, Killer, Mihawk, and Buggy where their s/o who has little cooking experience tries to surprise them by cooking something for them? Whether the food be good or bad is up to you! Thank you and have a good day!

Hi hi! Sure, always up for some fluff and I'm so happy to receive a request with Killer, I love this guy. ♡ Thank you so much for requesting. I hope the outcome will match your expectations. ☆

☆ Kid, Killer, Mihawk & Buggy with a s/o who has little cooking experience

CW :g/n reader, funny, fluff, Kid has a filthy mouth 

WC : 1,4k

Kid 

"It looks like shit. I won't put that in my mouth." 

Kid is a sassy brat because this man is able to burn the water. Spaghetti with garlic, oil, and red pepper flakes is probably the only thing he can cook. Yes, Killer's favorite food. But he won't ever admit that he learned that just for Killer, obviously. He needs to keep his jaggy-attitude, as the good angry punk he is.

Kid knows you have little cooking experience and had tried to eat what you cooked, but he ended up almost suffocating and dying on the ground. He made a promise to himself to only eat Killer's food. And we all know Kid is stubborn. He won't change his mind: you almost killed him, he will never eat your food again.

But then, he notices your sad face, wet puppy eyes and all the effort you put into the meal. And, it’s his favorite food: cabbage rolls. Okay, now his heart is melting, but of course, he won’t admit it.

"Well. It looks like shit but… it doesn't smell that bad." With a heavy sigh, he rolls his eyes and sniffs the plate like a fearful dog. 

He stares at you, suspicious, before planting his fingers on the cabbage rolls, watching if there are no bugs or whatever. Yes, he's been suspicious, petty, and he doesn't give a damn. "It looks… okay I guess." 

Actually, he's confused. That food looks like it's comestible. Perhaps it's a trap. He should wait for Killer to taste it first. Or just stuff those cabbage rolls into your mouth: if you don't die or cough, maybe he'll try it. 

"You know, if I die because of this food, I'll come back to life to avenge myself," before grabbing the cabbage rolls and eating an extremely small slice.

He's sweating, convinced that the nice appearance won't make up for the terrible taste. But… actually… it's… good. Like, he's not dying or suffocating on the ground. He doesn't even need to go to the nearest bathroom. 

"Can I have some more?" After eating the whole plate and almost licking it like a starving person. He doesn't like to give compliments, but do you remember the scene at Udon camp where he was eating? Right now, it's him. So clearly, he likes what you cooked.

Kid is not a man many words and "thank you" doesn't exist in his dictionary. Although he would notice all the efforts you made and even the cuts on your fingers, the words are simply stuck in his throat. But, he would kiss your forehead and smear his lipstick on it. And later, he would leave a handmade metal gift of your favorite flower or animal, as a 'thank you'. Gifts are a way for Kid to show his love. 

"You know what, I've changed my mind. Now I'll also eat your food." With his usual gruff voice and a flustered expression.

Killer

Killer is way nicer than his captain. Quality time is definitely his love language. So if you cook something for both of you, he's honored, truly happy and probably melting inside. The outcome doesn't matter that much. The intention already means a lot to him.

Let’s assume the outcome is not that good.

"Hm, Y/N, that seems… interesting. Really al dente." While observing the carbonized pasta. 

Even without his mask, he's good at hiding his expressions. He's probably laughing because of the SMILE, but actually he wants to cry. He feels truly happy when you try your hardest just for him, but on the flipside, he knows it won't taste good. 

Why him? Is dealing with a brat like Kid not enough for his poor soul?

If he gets sick from this food, who will keep an eye on Kid? He can't take a break with that hot-headed captain. Otherwise, the crew is doomed. 

But he wants to please you, so he will taste it. And even finish the entire plate. Even if it was bad. You tried your best, just for him, all he can do is finish his food. However, he is not dishonest. "That wasn't very tasty, sweetie... But you tried your best to please me, thank you for your time. Maybe we can cook together the next time? I'll teach you some tips." 

Finally, it's a win-win situation: thanks to your limited cooking experience, he has a good reason to spend more time with you. He’s already excited to teach you some recipe.

And as the educated guy he's, Killer will of course make the dishes himself, clean up the kitchen and thank you with a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. So now his purple lipstick is smeared on your face. 

"I need to finish my work… I'll see you tonight. Thank you again for the meal, sweetie." 

Casually walking through the door and once he's out of your view, he would run to the bathroom because he's getting sick.

"Ugh, you did that to yourself" (thank you for the support, Kid)

Mihawk

What a nice surprise to be welcomed with a beautiful table, his s/o well-dressed, red wine and some refined food. After dealing with Perona and Zoro all day, he only needs that. 

Mihawk's high standards mean that if the food is looking great, it's a good sign. He would never approach anything that looks bad. 

He knows that you may not have much cooking experience, but practice can help you make progress, right? Although the last time wasn't good, you can only improve yourself. Right? Right?

At least, if he dies from intoxication, the coffin will already be ready, thanks to his ship. 

"Come share that wine with me, don't stay standing like this." While serving you a glass of red wine.

He's a bit suspicious about the food. Even though the meal may be nice, it doesn't guarantee it's good and tasty. 

He's discreetly taking a sniff of the food. He has good manners, unlike those two brats, so he won’t make it obvious.

"Come sit with me and we can taste it together."

With his hawk eyes, he's looking at you and waiting for you to eat the food first. He's really observant, so he would notice all your expressions, even the most subtle ones. As your face shows no signs of disgust, then he would eat. 

And its taste really good. Although it may not be the most refined, given his high-standard, it's tasty, comestible, and well-matched to the wine. The most important thing for him. You can't waste a good wine with a bad dinner.

"You really outdid yourself, that was perfect. I’m grateful." 

Again, not a man of many words, but with his good manners, he would help you clean the dishes. Before returning to his duties (meaning: watching the kids), he would lend you his hat. This is a simple gift and a subtle way to say 'thank you'.

Buggy

"What, you did that for me? Why…? I mean, of course, you cook for me. What more normal? I'm the great Buggy after all." 

He's feeling quite confused inside. Outside, he's acting as cocky and extravagant as he always has. After all, what’s more typical for the great Buggy to be served with a great meal? That's the minimum he deserves. 

"Alright, let's eat it!" Before stuffing a huge amount of food in his mouth. And almost threw it back onto the plate. It's… foul. 

"Y/N, WAS OUR RELATIONSHIP A LIE THE WHOLE TIME? WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" 

Really? What has he done wrong? Did he leave his makeup everywhere again? Or his clothes? Or maybe it's because he forgot to put down the toilet seat. Or... wait a second... there is red on the plate... red tomatoes… like his nose... are you making fun of him? How dare you? Yes, he's overthinking. 

"That's a betrayal, I'm dying... I'm dead." 

He's yelling and gesticulating wildly, and his face almost turns green due to the awful taste, but also red due to his anger. 

He’s dramatically angry, of course.

"Listen everyone! y/n is trying to KILL me!"

The room is empty but okay Buggy.

He's exaggerating too much, it's not that bad. But here he is, rolling on the floor, holding his stomach, fainting. And as the drama queen, he is, of course, he’s using his devil fruit to fragment his bodies. "I'm so traumatized that I'm TORN apart."

When he notices your sadness, he shrugs. 

"Ugh, Y/N, you know, maybe it was just the first slice…" he would say before giving one more chance to your plate. No, it's still bad. 

"That's a masterpiece, Y/N. I'm in heaven." While trying to hide his tears. "So tasty!"Yes, he's trying to please you, because maybe he overreacted before and maybe he feels bad because you were sad. 

But Buggy is way too loud and clumsy, he sucks with comedy. It's obvious that he's lying. 

"That's fine, don't force yourself Buggy."

"Really? So our relationship wasn't a complete lie? Thank you Y/N, I love… I mean, what are you saying? I wasn't forcing myself, I'm the great Buggy, duh, no one can force me."

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #one piece requests #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid imagine #eustass kid #killer one piece #killer x reader #killer massacre soldier #killer x you #killer x y/n #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #op mihawk #mihawk headcanons #killer headcanons #buggy the clown #captain buggy #buggy one piece #op buggy #buggy x reader #buggy d clown #buggy x you #buggy headcanons

[corpsebasil]

The Prince’s Whore Part 2 18+

Part 1 ——-> here

You sipped from your vodka soda, watching as Nikolai approached you from across the tavern, making his way to your side. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care—most likely the latter—when several people openly stared in surprise to see the prince being so casually in attendance. You raised a brow when he made it to your side, squeezing a lime wedge into your drink before dropping it in.

“Thank you.” You told him, glancing away as he leaned against the wall to your right. You didn’t want to address the fact that he knew exactly how you liked your drinks, or why that made something in you feel a bit soft. “How are you?”

“Perfect, now that I’m with you.” He muttered, scanning the crowd. “Found anyone to tangle with tonight?” His voice dropped lower. “Someone to tear that dress off?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.” He grinned and bumped your arm with his, jostling you into looking over at him. “Speaking of that dress. Did someone pour you into it? Saints.”

You glanced down.

It was true, the tight black fabric that ended mid-thigh was sinfully draped over your body, exposing every dip and curve of your hips and waist. Nikolai wasn’t the first to have noticed—you saw a man eyeing you as he and his friend walked past, your stare turning purposely sultry, but his words he whispered none too softly made your face turn red.

“The Prince’s Whore.” He muttered, giving you an up-down that wasn’t anything close to admiring. “Pretty brave of them to show up together in public. Makes a mockery of the crown.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tear into him, but Nikolai had already peeled off the wall and stepped forward. The man had a brief second to look apologetic before the Prince’s fist slammed into his head, knocking him backwards and onto the ground. The man’s friend backed up, sputtering apologies, and Nikolai shook his hand out with a wince before walking back to you.

You could only stare, taking a lofty sip of your drink, as those fierce blue eyes met yours and he cast one more glare over his shoulders. You didn’t want to admit it, but…that was incredibly sexy. You cursed yourself for thinking it, but your eyes still strayed to his hands, remembering how recently they’d—

“Bastards,” he grumbled, rubbing his knuckles as he interrupted your filthy thoughts. “you’d think they’d have more decorum when I’m standing right here.”

“You—” you swallowed, still staring as your skin warmed. “what the hell did you do that for? I can defend myself.”

“But it’s so much more fun when you let me do it, darling.”

“Oh god.” You groaned, rolling your eyes.

“I love it when you make that sound.”

You shot the prince an annoyed look as he grinned down at you, reaching out to play with the strap of your dress. He looked at you like he always did, admiringly, but something softer in his gaze made your guard go right up. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the rush of warmth that had spread through you when he hit the man who called you a whore. Didn’t like the way he was gazing as you now, eyes scanning your face like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m doing a customer scan.” You informed him, looking away from that maddeningly handsome face. “Try not to punch anyone else.”

“My lady, where your honor is concerned, I make no promises.”

“Saints save me.” You grumbled under your breath, shoving your empty drink into his hand and ignoring his dark laugh as you pushed your way into the crowd.

You swayed your hips invitingly, eyes roving around the press of people, searching for a willing customer. It was always the same—approach or be approached, then the inevitable venturing into someone’s bed. For the past few months you’d been low on customers, preferring, to your chagrin, the press of a certain someone’s hands to your body instead of a stranger’s. But this was your trade, your craft, and you soon saw a boy in the distance who’s sparkling smile caught your attention.

He laughed at something the person he was talking to said, then looked over, his eyes meeting yours as if by chance. His approving up-down was quick and his face flushed with color, looking away then back as you approached him. He whispered something to his friend and moved towards you, cutting through the crowd.

“Hi,” you greeted him, holding a hand out for him to take. “I’m Y/N. I couldn’t help but notice your smile.”

“Hard not to notice pretty much everything about you.” He laughed, and damn you if he wasn’t cute as hell. He seemed like the kind of guy you might’ve dated back before you took up your current lifestyle. “Ethan. Nice to meet you.” He dropped a kiss onto the back of your hand and you blushed involuntarily.

“Where are you from E—” you stopped, watching as his eyes widened, gaze locked on something behind you. And when you turned, you saw Nikolai ordering a fresh drink at the bar, laughing over something the bartender was saying. “Ethan?”

“Sorry, I um—” he glanced at the floor, then back up. “You’re absolutely lovely, Y/N. But I’d love to leave this place with my head on my shoulders, so I’m gonna…” he pointed awkwardly back at his friends and you scowled.

“What does that mean?” When he paused, you pushed. “Ethan?”

“It’s um…pretty much guaranteed that if I hit on you or even try going home with you, the prince will kill me.”

“What?” Your head whipped around as your eyes shot daggers at the prince. He was still chatting away, and somehow you knew that he was completely aware of the current exchange and was unworried. “Did he say something to anyone?”

“Yeah uh, he pretty much spread word that if someone tries to touch you they’re dead.” Then he shrugged, face softening. “You’re gorgeous. And dating a prince seems like exactly what someone as pretty as you deserves.”

“We’re not dating—I’m—“ you closed your eyes and then smiled tightly. “Thank you. For being so nice. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

You turned on your heel and walked slowly back through the crowd, suddenly realizing how many men and women were eyeing you and then looking away like you were a walking death sentence. When you made it to Nikolai’s side you slid an arm around his waist, under his jacket, so that your hand that was now out of sight from onlookers could dig sharp nails into his ribs.

He grunted and then coughed, turning a pleasant little smile towards you.

“Y/N, darling.” He said, eyes gleaming with both pain and amusement. “Did you make a friend? Braid each other’s hair?”

You used your free hand to pick up his glass of whiskey and knock it back, then reached for the vodka soda he’d ordered for you. The sight of the lime already inside annoyed you more than warmed you, and you sucked half the drink down in one go before speaking.

“If you ever,” you started, voice dripping with honey and venom. “interfere with my work again, I’ll kill you.”

“And I’ll kill every man who has the audacity to look at you in that dress for more than five seconds.” He shot a look at someone behind you, proving his point, and you dug your nails in harder. Gods above, he was pure muscle. It was like squeezing a boulder. “Careful, love, if you want to kiss me later don’t injure me first.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you.” You hissed, voice low and serious. His smile faltered and you pushed on, pulling away from him. “Nothing. Leave. Me. Alone.” You finished your drink and whirled, headed towards the door. And to your surprise, though you’d asked, he didn’t follow.

—

You took the long way home, walking slowly, letting the night air soothe your anger. You felt guilty every time you thought of Nikolai. For months now, months, you hadn’t had anyone in your bed but him. You’d settled for inns and homes, even the occasional alleyway, to your disgust, but no one in your own apartment. No one in your shower. No one sleeping beside you.

And so you walked, rubbing your arms, and when you turned the corner onto your street you stopped dead in your tracks. Nikolai sat on the front step of your apartment building, chin propped on a hand as he stared dully out at something in the distance. At the sound of your resuming footsteps he looked up, apology written all over his face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no right to—” He paused when you held up a hand, brushing past him to unlock the door and move to the stairway.

He trailed after you quietly, his shallow breaths the only other sound besides your footsteps, and watched somberly as you unlocked your apartment and moved inside. When he stood there, unmoving, you let out a sigh.

“Are you coming inside, Nik?”

Something like hope crossed his face as he followed you, watching again as you shut the door behind him and locked up. Your heels clicked as you walked to the bathroom, washing your hands and undoing the pins in your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders.

“Make me a drink, will you?” You called out to him, then smeared your favorite lip-balm over your mouth. You’d been biting your lip during your walk, stressing over what you’d said to him and what it meant for the two of you.

He poured, and you walked out to find him with his jacket off, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He’d pushed his sleeves up over his elbows and—Saints have mercy. His arms. You blinked once and looked away quickly, unwilling to be distracted.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” You admitted, swallowing as a sense of awkwardness washed over you. He wasn’t your friend; what did it matter if you’d hurt his feelings? “I just didn’t appreciate you stopping me from doing my job.”

“I understand.” He said, tone flat and void of any sort of emotion. He handed you a glass tumbler of whiskey and took a sip from his own, leaning against the wall to look at you. “I’ll leave you alone, after tonight. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not—” you felt frustrated all of a sudden, a feeling of odd desperation crawling through you. “it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” He asked, still looking at you in that insufferably calm way. You set your drink down after a long sip, your fingers trembling a bit as he moved forward. “Because I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Your voice was practically inaudible, your breath catching when he took your face in a hand, fingers sliding behind your neck and into your hair.

“I want you.” He said, completely serious, and the laugh that bubbled out of you was hardly a laugh at all. Especially when he bent his head and kissed you, pulling you into him, his mouth soft and gentle and absolutely perfect.

Your heart dropped so abruptly into your stomach you gasped, reaching out to clutch at his shirt. The feel of him—and then smell of his cologne—your head was spinning, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or him or both.

“Let me get you out of that dress.” He whispered, moving to kiss your jaw, then neck, your head tipping backwards. You were practically panting, feeling so hot you thought you’d faint, when his hand slipped behind you and slid the zipper of your dress down.

He tugged it up slowly, hands sliding under the hem and bringing it with him, his hands grazing your skin as he went. Over your hips, then your stomach, then—

When it was over your head he dropped it onto the floor, kissing your mouth again once as he stared down reverently at your body. You’d gone braless out of necessity and his eyes drank you in, his stare so heated you felt the impact like a brand.

“Sit.” He told you and, like a godsdammned dog, you did. And when Nikolai knelt between your legs, you had a flashback of the shower so intense that an ache began between your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.” He sighed, tugging off one heel, then the other. His lips kissed your calf, his mouth moving up your leg. “I want you to be mine, Y/N.”

“That’s insane.” You managed to say, and the sharp nip he gave to your inner thigh made you gasp.

“Why?” He questioned against your skin, his fingers tugging your underwear down and over your hips.

“You’re a prince.” You closed your eyes, trying not to let out a ridiculous moan when his teeth grazed, then he kissed, your hip. “You can’t be with me.”

“I can be with whoever I wish. My title doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” You opened your eyes, and the sight of his mouth so close to—you shut them again, unable to have this conversation with him when he looked so damn needy. “Even if you could, we aren’t friends, Nik. We’ve never been friends, so what makes you think I want a relationship with you?”

“You always insist on that.” He sighed, breath warm against your inner thighs. “And yet I cannot stop loving you anyways.”

Your heart stopped.

When he looked up at you, blue eyes soft and filled with—oh gods. He couldn’t be serious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You spat, shifting and crawling farther up the bed away from him. You grabbed a blanket and covered yourself, glaring as he stood and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve never been more serious.” His voice was so calm, so gentle, you—no. No. “How can I prove it to you?”

“You’re insane Nik. You’ve lost your damn mind.”

“I will beg for you, if you wish it.”

“Nikolai, stop. You’re absolutely insane and I do not love you.”

“Please Y/N.” His breath caught as his brows furrowed, an injured look on his face. “I will humble myself at your feet if it will satisfy you. I have cared for you for so long and—and if you truly do not love me, even a bit, I will go.” His eyes left yours, scanning the apartment as if memorizing it, then moved back to your face. “If even the possibility of loving me is…insane to you, then I will leave. But I cannot keep loving you and sharing your bed when you don’t feel the same. It’s killing me.”

Your mouth was dry, something cleaving in your chest as you looked at him. You looked at your prince, at the only man you’d allowed in your bed, the man you’d brushed your damn teeth with, the man who squeezed lime into your drinks and defended you when you were insulted. And something tightened in you further when he nodded once and stood, headed for his coat.

“Nikolai, wait.” You could hardly breathe as he turned his head, something like pain written across his features. “I do—I—” Saints, where were your words? “I want you. To stay. Please.”

A soft laugh left him, a sound of pure relief, and you watched with a strangely warm, desperate feeling inside you as he made his way to the bed, moving beside you. He tugged the blanket off you and bent his head to kiss the curve of your knee, watching as you propped yourself on your elbows and stared at him.

“You look a bit like you want to attack me, right now.” He informed you, using his grip on your legs to pull you closer.

You kind of did want to attack him. Especially when he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and removed it, every inch of his chest and—gods those abs—on display.

“Saints.” You muttered, then let out a sigh when he bent his head, his mouth kissing your stomach and naval.

“They’re not here, love.” He chuckled, sarcastic bastard that he was, and you opened your mouth to sass him when he licked you long and appreciatively.

A moan left your mouth as he kissed and sucked at your center, your hands gripping his hair like a lifeline. When he lifted your hips higher for him and slid two fingers in deep, you could’ve swore the only word left in your vocabulary was his name as you gasped it over and over.

But when he stopped you lifted your head, turned on and annoyed and absolutely burning for him.

“Why’d you—” you stopped when he took off his pants, then reached for you, lifting you and laying you down against your pillows. “Nikolai.” You sighed against him when he kissed you, his tongue brushing into your mouth, and the feel of him made you writhe beneath his body.

“Say you’re mine.” He whispered, then licked into your mouth again, and you keened his name, his hands a bruising force against your hips. “Y/N.”

“Yours.” You gasped, feeling the first brush of him against your center. Gods you were about to explode. “Yours, Nik.”

And when he pushed inside, slowly, letting you feel every godsdammned inch of him as he pressed in deeper, your heart dropped into your stomach and your eyes squeezed shut. His hand brushed your face as he kissed your forehead softly, arms settling to frame your head.

You gripped his back, running your hands down it and scratching lightly when he moved, so agonizingly slow, the inside of you aching where your bodies met. He let out a ragged laugh near your ear and the sound wound you up even tighter.

“Don’t squeeze me so hard or this will be over embarrassingly fast, my love.” He murmured, kissing your nose, then your mouth. And you forced yourself to relax.

My love. You didn’t think you’d ever been so warm in your life, not when he pulled out and then pushed back in, shallow, slow thrusts he made as he lazily rolled his hips against yours. He felt so—oh. Oh.

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” He whispered, his voice strained. You pushed your hips into his, needing more.

“Please, Nik.” You gasped, taking his face in your hands as you pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth.

And so he picked up his pace, and soon he was fucking you so hard into the mattress that you can hardly breathe—could hardly think—especially when his fingers slipped between you and began to rub the sensitive bud right above where he thrust into you.

“Nik. Nik.” You moaned, gripping him as tightly as you could, and cried out when he bit and then kissed your neck carefully.

“I love it when you say my name.” He told you, licking the offending area he’d just nipped, and you came. Hard.

A choked gasp left your mouth as a jolt ran through you, your face turning to press against the pillows as he came with you, a low moan against your shoulder bringing you so quickly back to arousal it startled you. He continued to move lazily as he slowed, you still fighting for breath, when he cradled your face in his hands and brushed a piece of hair away from your eyes.

“I’m going to make love to you so many times you’ll forget there was ever another man inside you.” He said, as simply as if he was telling you the weather, as his eyes studied the bruise appearing on your neck. He smirked and leaned down to kiss it, making your body arch involuntarily into him.

“I want that.” You breathed, still gripping him hard, and he bent his head lower, moving down your body, his mouth closing over a sensitive breast.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured against your skin. “I’ll give you. The world. A crown.”

You tried not to think about everything his words implied, not when his mouth reached your naval, then lower, and he started working his mouth against you, again.

Helloooo good lord ladies I have truly mastered the nasty

Like and reblog for more!!

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone imagine #smut #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov smut #corpsebasil

[midnight-talescape]

𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒾𝒶𝒸 (𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒪’𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 13: Size difference + Heartbeat

They’re very much implied okay, there are very few people who is larger then Miguel mkay?

But like yeah this man totally gaslighted you, also like soft Miguel. Wanted to try something different, no im not just bad.

Warning: Size difference, gaslighting, ooc, etc, etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 2315

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Your boss is hot.

Like really really hot and like a super nice person.

The last time you said this out loud, a few of the other spiders looked at you like you were crazy, while Jessica just laughed and said,

“I can't deny the fact that he’s hot, but a nice person?”

You open your mouth ready to defend your boss’s honor when your spider sense tingles.

“What are you guys doing here?” came a cold voice behind you,

Almost immediately everyone dispersed, within seconds until it was just you and Jessica that's still standing in front of Miguel.

“Boss!” You yelled excitedly before dive-bombing into his chest,

Miguel automatically caught you in his arm, your body nearly disappearing into his body as he wrapped his arm around you, saying gruffly,

“Stop doing that, little spider.”

You closed your eyes, smushing your face onto his pecs.

“But your hug is so nice, boss… I can stop if you don't like it…” you sound a little disappointed and begin to let go of Miguel,

With a sigh, Miguel pushed you back into his arm and tightened his hold on you,

“Fine, you can keep hugging me… just… just don't make this into a regular thing…”

Jessica raised her eyes as she saw the scene unfold in front of her, she could have sworn she just saw something like possessiveness in Miguel’s eyes.

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You like your boss.

Not in a lovey-dove way, god no…

At least you don't think it's in a lovey-dovey way.

He’s just so pretty and… and… he’s just so pretty and hot! Like look at him!

You used to be able to ignore it because of how scared of him you were.

Then like you saw him one time. One fucking time! Looking at the video of him and his daughter, looking super sad, kinda like a giant sick puppy left in the rain horrible example Your brain was immediately overtaken with the thought,

I can fix him!

Ezekiel said your instinct to want to cure people of their sadness, or quote on quote fix people, stems from the fact that you wish someone fixed your younger self or something like that.

You stopped listening after the first 2 lines, already on your way to hug Miguel.

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Miguel's attempt to stop you from hugging him was futile.

You were quite stubborn and you have concluded that the man is touch-starved. So it's only natural that you made it your mission to make your boss feel loved.

Your conclusion is correct as Miguel seems to get softer with you as time goes on.

This shocks Peter to no end, and after hearing your conclusion of Miguel being touched starved, immediately attempts to hug Miguel.

He had to go to the nurse after Miguel threw him through a wall in surprise.

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You were talking to one of the spider people when you received a notification from your watch that Miguel wanted you in his office.

You hastily said goodbye before swinging your way to Miguel’s office.

A few minutes later you arrived in front of his office and knocked on the door.

There was no answer and after a few minutes of waiting you got a little worried, you could have sworn you heard someone groaning in there.

In a split second, you burst through the door and nearly had a heart attack when you saw Miguel curled up on the floor.

“Boss! Are you okay?!”

“C-close the door…fuck!” Miguel groaned out, his face flushing pink,

You quickly slammed the door shut and kneeled next to Miguel.

“Shit! Boss, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” You rambled on nervously as you held Miguel up in your arms,

Miguel groaned into your arm as he tried to get up,

”I’m fine, little spider,” Miguel managed between labored breaths, “I accidentally injected myself with some aphrodisiac, the vial wasn't labeled…”

Your eyes widen in alarm as he said that, finally noticing the shattered vial near Miguel,

“Will you be okay, boss? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary? What's an aphrodisiac?!”

Miguel coughed before looking up at you, a faint blush barely visible on his tan face as he stopped you from dragging him out the door,

“N-no, wait! It's- it's best if I don't go to the infirmary for this…”

You stopped and blinked slowly as you looked at him questioningly.

“Aphrodisiac is a chemical substance that… increases sexual desire and arousal. I would rather not go to the infirmary for this…” Miguel explained as his face burned in embarrassment,

“O-oh…” you said quietly as you froze and finally noticed the bulge in Miguel’s suit,

Noticing your rigid body, Miguel's voice was hoarse as he said,

“I know this is going to sound bad, but… do you think you can help me with my… problem?”

“W-what?” You spluttered out confused,

“I know it's an abrupt request and highly unprofessional, but you will help me right, little spider?” Miguel looked up at you, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat,

Any question you have regarding why was there aphrodisiacs in his office, and hesitation was immediately thrown out the window when Miguel looked at you.

Your boss is asking you to help him! Your beautiful, sexy, walking dilf of a man, dominating boss who never asks for help is asking you for help!

Who can say no to a beautiful sexy hunk like him?! WHO CAN?!

You sure as hell can’t.

Almost immediately you nodded your head,

“Y-yes…of course! Anything to help you, boss….” you said your mind completely dazed from the fact that your sexy boss was asking you for help,

“I knew I could trust you, little spider…” Miguel said as he wrapped his arm around you tightly, a dark look in his eyes that screamed danger, "You're going to help me with all my problems, aren't you?"

You nodded your head, not fully understanding what you had just agreed to…

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Your eyes sting with tears as you try not to gag on Miguel’s cock. Desperately relaxing your throat as Miguel grabbed your hair and deepthroated you.

You could feel your throat stretching around Miguel's cock, saliva that you can't swallow dripped down your chin and onto the floor as Miguel roughly fuck your throat.

Miguel kept pushing you down onto his cock, forcing you to take more of his length. Your lips were taut as you worked around his thick girth, the sensation of his cock forcing its way deeper into your mouth causing tears to fall from your eyes. Your mind was dazed and blurry from the taste and smell of Miguel that seemed to surround you.

"F-fuck! Little spider, you were made for this…" Miguel groaned as he felt your tongue wrapped around his cock, your face red with effort,

You out a loud gasp as Miguel forced his entire cock into your throat, groaning as your gasp send tiny vibration up his cock.

Grunting, Miguel wiped away your tears before wrapping his hand around your throat.

You let out a cry as he gripped tightly around his cock through your throat, your throat raw from the rough way he was thrusting into you.

"You're doing so well, little spider…" Miguel groaned as he looked down at your teary face,

You look so fucking beautiful with your face red, tears running down your face, and your mouth stuffed full of his cock.

With a grunt, he reached his climax and shot his cum into your throat.

You instinctively tried to back away when you felt Miguel cumming inside your mouth, but Miguel forced your head to stay still, grunting as he said,

“Stay still for me, little spider. Be a good girl for me, will you?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your eyes as you forced yourself to stay still, you can feel the thick stream of cum filling you up.

After a few minutes, Miguel removed his cock from your throat, leaving you coughing and spluttering.

Tilting your head up, Miguel wiped away the cum that you couldn't swallow before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You did great, Cariño…”

You looked up at him your mind still a little dazed with a single question on your mind,

“A-Are you feeling better, boss?”

Hearing your question, Miguel groaned as he felt himself harden again.

Fuck, she will be the death of me one day

Miguel lowered his eyes and lifted you onto his lap, before saying calmly,

“I'm afraid that wasn't enough, little spider… Do you trust me?”

Shivering you nodded your head.

Your boss will never lie to you, right?

“This will be a little painful, so hold on okay, little spider?” Miguel said before pushing you down onto his cock,

Your cries of agony echoed through the room as Miguel thrust into you, your body being stretched open on his cock.

Your cunt stretching painfully taunt around his cock, to the point where it looks opaque and ready to tear at any moment.

With each thrust, you could feel your insides stretching around his cock, stretching farther than they ever had before. Miguel's hands were tight around your hips as he kept your shaking body still, as he ignored your cry of agony and fucked into your tiny body.

It was more than painful, it felt like he was ripping your body apart with his cock. Your body ached, and your eyes were glassy from crying. Your cunt tightened around Miguel's cock as he continued his brutal assault on your body.

You let out a scream as you came onto his cock, Miguel grunt as he felt your wall tighten to a point its hard for him to move.

“F-fuck… relax a little, Cariño… you’re too fucking tight… shit I forgot how tiny you are compared to me…” Miguel panted into your ears as he plunge his cock farther and farther into you,

“S-stop, boss…haaaa… it hurts… I’m full!” You cried out desperately,

Miguel tightened his grip on your waist, his claw digging into your skin as he growled,

“Call me by my name, little spider…”

You clawed at his back leaving behind claw mark as you cried out again,

“M-miguel! P-please! I'm so full, t-too big!”

Satisfied Miguel slowed down a little allowing you to adjust as he kissed your neck and shoulder, leaving behind bruise and bite mark.

“And yet, you’re doing such a great job taking in my cock, my sweet spider…”

Your mouth opens moaning loudly as the pain subsides into pleasure.

“M-Miguel…t-too fast… i-im gonna cum…g-gonna cum again…” you babbled out your body covered in your slick and sweat,

Miguel's lip curled into a snarl as he began thrusting into you faster,

“Cum for me, little spider… Give yourself to me…” he dug his fang into your neck,

Your back arched and your mouth opened into a silent scream as you came into an agonizing high, your body shaking violently.

Pushing you onto his chest, Miguel slid his hand down your body to your ass, kneading it gently as your body shudder from your orgasm.

“H-hurt… it hurt… Miguel… no more…”

Miguel kissed your head as he ignored your pleas ramming into your body roughly as he tried to comfort you,

“Shhh, it's okay you can take so much more, little spider… just focus on me…fuck you’re tight…”

Panting you leaned your head against Miguel's chest, desperately trying to focus on his erratic heartbeat as he fuck you.

With a growl and a final brutal thrust, Miguel came inside you, filling your body with his cum.

Your leg shakes as he cum inside you, painting your wall white and you groan as you felt your stomach bloated out.

“Gonna stuff you with my cum, little spider… I will make you mine…” Miguel panted into your ears not even bothering to stop as his cock harden once more,

Picking you up and earning a gasp from you, he slammed you into the window. Miguel grabbed both of your legs and hooked them onto his shoulders, forcing you into a mating press before slamming into you deeper than before.

“Haaaaa… M-miguel stop… p-people will see…” you cried out trying to push him away from you,

“Then let them see, let them see who you belong to…” Miguel pushes down on the bulge in your stomach causing you to lose all your thought process, as you orgasm for the 6th time this night,

Miguel tilts your head up pulling you into a kiss and forcing you to kiss back.

“Say you love me, my little spider… say you love me…”

You couldn't hear what he was saying as your mind was just so fucked. Unhappy with your silence, Miguel dug his claw into your ass and grind his dick against your g-spot.

Your eyes flew open and you let out a loud cry,

“I-i love you… Miguel, I love you… please stop!”

“Good girl…” Miguel practically purred out as his pace got more and more brutal,

He's not letting you go, not until your soul, body, and heart all belong to him…

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Miguel snarled as he saw you talking to one of the spider person.

You belong to him and no one else, how dare your attention be on anyone but him?

You don't love him, he can tell.

You don't love anyone.

The report Ezekiel gave him clearly stated your inability to feel love for anyone or anything, only the ability to fake it.

It doesn't matter, he will be the closest thing to love you will ever feel.

He will make sure of it…

He grabbed a vial of aphrodisiac he got and injected it into him, before picking up his watch and messaging you,

Come to my office immediately…

#no i don’t have problems #reader insert #reader smut #x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel smut #miguel x y/n

[hearts4court]

peppers by lana del ray with sirius black

specific lyric – ”hands on your knees, i'm angelia jolie”

Peppers~

A/N: ahhh, this was my first time writing this kinda smut so bare with me 🫠🫶🏻 this was so filthy(well to me) i hope you like it<3

Main Masterlist | Rules 4 blog | about me!

Started: 8/6/23 — 8/26/23

Pairing(s): Sirius Black X Fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, blowjobs, Ben barnes is a warning himself because CHRIST! semi-public sex(?), Sirius being Sirius, horrible french translation.

Smut starts under the “~~~~”, Lemme know if miss anything!:)

Gryffindor had won the house-cup again. Which wasn’t surprising since James was their Star-player. So in honor of James winning the cup, Their was a party in the Gryffindor Common room(per usual).

“Sirius!!” you called out to him as you ran up to him and hugged him and practically through yourself on him, making him smile and pick you up by your legs.”Princess! Were ya cheering for me? i may not be as good as James but i try.” he said as he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

You kissed back holding his face in your hands,”I was. You look so hot when you play quidditch.” you smile as you push his black hair out of his face.

“I’m glad you think so~”He said, squeezing your ass gently as he held you in his arms. “All pretty’d up f’me, aren’t ya doll?” He smirked as he pressed soft kisses to your neck and jaw.

You hum in response, as you press your body against his,”Sirius..”you whisper making him smirk and pull you closer by your waist. “shh.. i’ll give ya want ya want, mon cherie… but be patient.”he said making you whine as Remus came over to congratulate Sirius on help winning for Gryffindor.

~~~~~

The moment you two got back to his dorm Sirius’s hands were all over you, pulling on your dress and squeezing your ass, as y’all’s lips hungrily found each others.

Hands on your knees, i’m Angelina Jolie.

Sirius’s hands trailed down his pants unbuckling his belt and taking off his pants and boxers, growling at the sight of you between his legs, your hands on his knees as your mouth went up and down his cock, his hand fisting your hair as he let out a soft moans and groans.

“fuck. doing so- s’well for me, doll.” he groaned as he tossed his head back, looking down at your pretty face while you bobbed your head up and down.

Sirius’s knee started bouncing before he came in your mouth, making you whine before pulling off his cock. When Sirius noticed some of his cum leaking out your mouth wiping it with his finger and sticking his finger into his mouth making you suck it off before he stood you up and throwing you on the bed.

“alright love, my turn.” He smirked, watching as you bite your bottom lip softly, his hands worked down to your dress pushing it up.

you were in for a long night…

Don’t copy, translate or repost any of my work w/o my permission.

#the marauders era #the marauders smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black smut #sirius black x female reader #sirius black imagine

[hitomisuzuya]

I'm just imagining Reader and Father!Wanderer/Scara with their child when suddenly he stubs his toe on a door or smth and the child asks "Is daddy ok?" and while Scara is just cursing his head off, he overhears Reader saying "Yeah, daddy's ok, he just stubbed his toe. and something just switches inside of him 😏😏 Perhaps after the child leaves for daycare some shenanigans happen iykyk.

a/n: Help omg this is so cute! I hope you like it. Scara would make an amazing father😌😌

Father! Scaramouche x fem! reader. Scara's filthy mouth (lol), humor with some shenanigans mixed in. I made the baby a boy. Scarameow reference. Slight smut.

After your child has been born, Scaramouche wasted no time going into full on Father mode. Especially getting his child toys and stuffed animals. They littered your home in bulk. And he was thrilled to see that his son had your eyes.

You were just finishing up breakfast, and were going to get him ready to go daycare so you could do some commissions for the Adventurers Guild. He was going to go with you, of course. He wasn't going to stop you from taking commissions, but you were the mother of his child now. Practically his wife. If he could do the fighting for you, he would.

He would love it if you just became a stay at home mom. Scaramouche would never tell you stop working though. It would be a crime for you not to use your Vision to help people.

Scaramouche suddenly hissed in pain. He'd stepped around to avoid stepping on a stuffed animal, stubbing his toe in the process. "God damn it, son of a bitch that hurt!"

"Mommy, is Daddy okay?" Your child asked.

You covered his ears as Scaramouche swore. "Scara please, you know how impressionable children are at his age." You knelt down in front of your son, "Daddy is okay, he just stubbed his toe. He looks like a grouchy cat, doesn't he?"

Scaramouche had clamped his mouth shut after you chided him. He knew you were right. Swearing around when his son was around was big no no. He'd said once that he was going to learn these words eventually, and you'd said it wasn't up for debate.

Once he saw his son looking away, attention fixated on a stuffed animal, he walked up behind you, groping your ass a little. "When you get back from dropping him off, let's make another one," he whispered.

There was just something about the way you looked reassuring his son, how natural you looked as a mother, not to mention how hot you looked when you were pregnant that made him horny.

"Promise?" You asked, turning around to kiss him goodbye.

Scaramouche chuckled, "Scout's honor," he replied, smacking your butt affectionately when you turned to leave.

A little over an hour later, you were bouncing up and down on his cock, your forehead pressed against his as he told you how much he wanted multiple children with you. After you two had come down from your high, you planned to tell him that you were already pregnant again<3

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin smut #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n

[leighsartworks216]

Good Boy

Astarion x transmasc!Tav/Reader x Gale

This is a part two to Feel Good

Gale might be OOC, I don't have him talking as much as I'd honestly like, but I just don't know what he'd say and I don't have the brain power rn to listen to his dialogue. Not proofread

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: oral (w vagina), threesome, top Astarion, bottom Gale, praise kink, hair pulling, slight scent kink, some nipple play, mentions of top surgery scars

Word Count: 1,051

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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Astarion couldn’t keep his mouth off of you. Lips trailed languidly along your new chest scars in wet kisses, tongue brushing along the jagged edges. You tasted like Gale’s soap, which they’d used to tenderly clean your body after so long of being unable to properly bathe. Now you were clean, and both men fully intended to make you filthy.

Both men knelt over you, Gale burying his face into your shoulder and trailing scratchy kisses along your throat. He brushed his tongue over the faded bite marks left behind by Astarion, drawing out a whimper from you. They were taking their sweet time. Their hands caressed and massaged and pressed softly against you, but they never reached where you needed them. Astarion could smell you already - dripping wet with arousal for them.

His dark red eyes sought out yours as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing ever so lightly against it as his tongue swirled around. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging desperately at his white curls.

“Please, please,” you gasped. You reached up and tangled your other hand in Gale’s hair, trying to pull him away from his assault on your jaw. “Need you, please.”

Astarion released your nipple, but his cool breath continued to fan over it as he spoke. “What do you want us to do, love? Use your words now.” He trailed a hand along your belly, brushing over Gale’s, and gliding it between your thighs, but not quite touching your sex. No, instead he pressed your legs open, and you complied without a single thought otherwise.

You groaned, frustrated and needy. “Eat me out,” you gasped as a flush rushed to your cheeks. “Please, Gale, need you.”

Gale captured your lips in a kiss, licking his tongue into your mouth greedily. You shivered thinking about him doing the same thing to your cunt. He pulled away with a grin. “It would be my honor.”

He made his way slowly down your body, taking his time to kiss every inch of your skin. Your collarbones, your sternum, your peck, down to your belly button, and further still until he knelt between your legs - he loved the way you tasted. Even just the smell of you was enough to drive him mad.

He pressed your legs further apart so he’d fit, and watched as Astarion’s slid from your thigh to your cunt. He used his fingers to spread your folds, slicking his fingers with you as he showed just how needy you were to Gale. “Look how wet he is already,” the vampire purred.

Gale groaned, cock twitching at just the sight of you like this. So handsome. So gorgeous. He dipped down, ready to dive in and lose himself in you. But Astarion stopped him with a small ah-ah, and presented his coated fingers to the wizard.

“Come on,” he encouraged with a smirk. “Show our darling just what that tongue of yours can do.”

“I’m sure he’s well acquainted by now,” he remarked, but he took Astarion’s fingers in his mouth anyway. He watched you both as he ran his tongue between them and licked up the slick, coating the fingers in saliva.

You shuddered and Astarion grinned. “Well aren’t you just a good boy,” he teased, but Gale shivered at the praise. Even though Astarion said it so playfully, he knew it was genuine. He pulled his fingers from Gale’s mouth and grabbed his hair, right next to yours. He pushed his head down between your thighs. “Eat up. He’s waited long enough, don’t you think?”

Gale didn’t hesitate. He licked a stripe up your slit, cleaning you of your wetness, before teasing his tongue around your entrance. You bucked up into him, but he pressed an arm over your hips to keep you pinned down. They couldn’t have you exerting yourself - that would ruin the entire point of this. With his nose pressed against your clit, his tongue plunged deep inside.

You moaned as he ate you out, pressing your head back into your pillows as the sensations overwhelmed you. The sloppy, wet sounds filled your ears; the wizard acted like a starving man at a banquet.

Astarion’s mouth found your neck, sucking and nipping all over, but especially around your pulse. Your blood raced under your skin as your heart raced. And you smelled delicious. “You’re gorgeous, my love,” he groaned into the skin behind your ear. He released Gale’s hair in favor of running his fingers along your chest scars, delicately, as they were still sensitive. He pressed harder when he ran his fingers just underneath them. “So fucking handsome.”

You tugged on his hair until his lips were on yours. It was a sloppy kiss, full of desperation and passion. He eagerly swallowed every moan and gasp from you.

He nipped at your lips when you pulled away with a choked groan. His eyes studied your face knowingly. “Are you going to cum for us, pretty boy?” You whimpered at the nickname. Gale felt you clench excitedly around his tongue.

Astarion’s hand slides down your stomach until his fingers find your clit. Gale repositions so he’s not getting flicked in the nose as the vampire begins rubbing circles against you. He peers up through your legs to watch as your chest rises and falls with hurried gasps, watching as Astarion finds your neck again and murmurs sweet praises into it. He can pinpoint the exact moment you orgasm.

Astarion doesn’t let up on your clit as you clench around Gale’s tongue, drawing out each moan of their names as your cum is eagerly eaten up by the wizard. Only once you begin squirming with overstimulation does Astarion stop, before pushing Gale firmly but not unkindly away from your cunt. His face is coated in you, filling his nostrils with your heady musk. He presses tender kisses to your inner thighs, holding them steady as they tremble from the aftershocks.

“Good boy,” Astarion praises as he pulls away to assess his partners. His eyes are still dark with lust as he watches Gale. They meet eyes, and between them is the same thought. He turns back to kiss you, languid and sweet, before he pulls away with a wicked smirk. “We’re not done with you yet, handsome.”

---

Tag List:

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#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bloodweave #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav x gale #astarion x reader x gale #gale x tav #gale x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate gale #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 tav #trans male reader #transmasc reader #trans reader #x trans reader #x trans male reader #x transmasc reader

[milfthrawnuorodo]

Admiral

Pairings: Thrawn x Reader (no use of Y/N because it drives me literally insane lol)

Warnings: SMUT!! So much fucking smut. Established relationship. P in V. Oral (male receiving). Fingering (female receiving). Fucking in an elevator ?? Listen this is just so fucking filthy. Porn without plot. But also of course I had to end it with fluff because I don’t know when to stop. 

*minors do not interact!!*

Summary:  Thrawn just got promoted to admiral, and then inadvertently discovers he really likes it when you call him by his new title. Like, he really likes it. How do we celebrate this new promotion and self discovery?? By fucking in an elevator of course!

Authors Note: So just to be clear, I have this HC that Chiss are extremely strong compared to humans. And Thrawn especially so (I mean, come on, we’ve all seen that scene from Rebels with those buff af arms). As a plus size reader and writer, I want to make it ABUNDANTLY clear that size does not impact the readability of this fic (at least, I don’t intend it to). . I do try to write with as much versatility as possible, and I don’t want anyone to read this and think it only applies to a specific body type. I specifically wrote this with the mental image of him lifting up a curvy girl EASILY.  REPEATEDLY.  Definition of:  Light work, no reaction.  

Also, I don’t fucking know how elevators work. We go with it. 

Translations: 

Turbolift = Star Wars Elevator (yes, it’s a thing apparently lol)

ch’eo ch’acah = my beloved

Ch'ah ch'acah vah = I love you

“I knew you would look good in white,” you smirked, brushing off invisible lint from Thrawn’s  jacket with your spare hand. Your other hand held a pair of high heels as uncomfortable as they were stunning and you had rid your aching feet of the offending items as soon as you and Thrawn were in the relative safety of the turbolift, heading up to your penthouse apartment on your homeworld of Coruscant. You and Thrawn had just left the celebratory ball honoring Thrawn’s latest promotion to admiral. It was a night full of pride for your lover, honor for the Empire, and maybe just a few too many glasses of Corellian wine, if you were being honest. 

“I was under the impression you thought I look good in everything,” Thrawn drawled, his deep blue lips twitching upwards, a hint of a smile gracing his usually stoic face. 

“Whatever you say…admiral,” you playfully quipped and watched as Thrawn’s lips curve upwards even  more, a tinge of violet flush creeping up his neck. 

You opened your mouth to comment again on his new rank, enjoying the momentary power trip–it wasn’t often you could incite this kind of reaction from your lover, when a soft ding  warned you that the turbolift had reached your floor. You smothered your frown, taking a step off the elevator before stumbling over the silken hem of your gown. A strong hand gripped your elbow to steady you, another reaching around to rest firmly on your waist. Before you could attempt another step, a force abruptly pulled you backwards, your back pressing against Thrawn’s muscled torso. His warm breath caressed your neck as he dipped his head low. “Say it again,” he all but growled, his lips ghosting your neck in a way that sent heat straight to your core. You couldn’t  help the slight arch of your back in response, noting with pure satisfaction the reaction you were garnering from Thrawn. You could feel his hardened arousal through the pristine white dress slacks, and your cunt clenched in response. 

“Well now, love, here’s the thing,” you tease, pressing your backside against his hardened member and relishing Thrawn’s sharp intake of breath in response. “I  don’t take orders from you.” You felt the rumble deep in Thrawn’s chest as he took the bait, his fingers all but slamming the keypad to shut the doors to the turbolift. Confusion flitted across your face, but Thrawn didn’t even hesitate as he forcefully pressed the sequence of buttons necessary to stop the elevator completely. A brief alarm sounded, followed by a robotic voice that was no doubt meant to sound soothing as it reassured passengers that the turbolift had been halted and help would be arriving soon. Understanding began to dawn as Thrawn released his hold on you, and you turned to see two glowing red eyes peering down at you, ravenous. 

“If you don’t take orders from me,”  Thrawn’s voice was low and steady, a hint of that tameless lust just under the surface. “Then please, do tell me, who do you take orders from?” he took a step closer, towering above you with that piercing glare. Reflexively,  you took a step back. Well, tried to–the turbolift door pressed up against you, and you weren’t  sure if  it was the sudden coolness of the durasteel or the heat of Thrawn’s gaze that caused the shiver that shot up your spine. 

“Well, that would be…” you  swallowed hard, wracking your brain for a name, any name. “Umm,”  you attempted to buy yourself time, but you felt as though every coherent thought you’d ever had eddied out of your mind, a ravenous need overtaking your entire body.  All  you could think about is Thrawn and how stars damned good he looked in that fucking uniform. As if reminding yourself, your eyes trailed downward, soaking in every last detail of his new admiral dress whites. Your gaze stopped short upon seeing the evident outline of his arousal and you instinctively bit down on your bottom lip to conceal your moan. 

Thrawn took another step to you, quickly closing the small distance between you two. You felt his firm grip on your chin, forcing your head to tilt up and meet his gaze. Passion burned in his gaze and you felt the last of your resolve melting away. Fuck being witty right now, you thought to yourself, I need this. As if Thrawn read your mind, his lips crashed against yours and your entire body ignited with need. Your fingers tangled in his blue-black locks and every inch of your body pressed up against him. Thrawn’s hands gracefully slid down your hips, cupping the upper back of your thighs. You took the sign for what it was, giving a little jump as he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He didn’t even break the kiss, just pressed  your back against the doors of the  elevator, grinding his erection into your core. The friction was practically electric and you couldn’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you break the kiss. You leaned your head against  the  frame and Thrawn’s lips moved to your newly exposed neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh. He took the thin strap of your gown between his teeth and  before you could so much as utter a warning, he ripped it straight from the gown. Without its integral support, the delicate satin of the bust fell down, exposing one of your breasts. 

“Stars damn it,Thrawn, that was expensive,” you chastised halfheartedly, your chest rapidly rising and falling as Thrawn once again ground into you. As if  in apology, Thrawn peppered kisses across your exposed breast before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Your complaints died in your throat as your body became alight with pleasure. As he continued his ministrations, he pinned you against the wall with his body, freeing one hand to gently slide your remaining strap down your arm, exposing the other breast in a manner completely opposite to its torn counterpart. Thrawn switched his attention to the other breast, gingerly taking your other nipple into his mouth. He took a moment to adjust your position against the elevator, one hand cupping your ass as the other hand slid between your bodies. For  the  second time that night you heard Thrawn’s sharp intake of breath as he brushed your bare self. 

“Are you really telling me you didn’t wear underwear to such a formal event?” he breathed out,  barely concealing his moan at finding you bare and ready for him. “Stars sake,” he breathed out, “you are so wet for me.”

You couldn’t help but let out a slight breathy laugh. “I told you I like the uniform,” you panted before your sassy remarks were replaced by cries of pleasure as two of Thrawn’s fingers plunged into your aching cunt. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

Thrawn. Thrawn. Thrawn. 

Your body was lost in the passion, his lips on your breasts, his fingers curling towards himself, hitting that spot that makes you see fucking stars. He’s relentless, devouring you–mind,body, and soul.  Before you knew it, you were on the brink of pure bliss. “Thrawn,”  you gasped, “I’m going to come,” you warned, though you knew it wasn’t necessary. Knowing Thrawn and all your years together, he knows exactly when you’re on the edge just as well as he knows exactly how to pleasure you to get you there. He is as in tune with your moans and sighs of pleasure as he is with his own heartbeat. 

His fingers picked up the pace, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come for me, ch’eo ch’acah,” Thrawn purred in your ear, and the low timbre of his voice combined with the heat of his words had you tumbling over the edge of pleasure, his name on your lips as stars crossed your vision. 

You slowly drifted back to reality as Thrawn pressed soft kisses across your chest, trailing up your neck and back to your lips. He set you down on shaky legs, supporting you with his strong grip. 

Having finally caught your breath, you took a second to take stock of the sight before you: Thrawn’s dark hair, once perfectly styled, now a mess, the ironed jacket now crumpled and partially undone, and worse of all, the pristine white pants now clearly soaked through with a mix of  his precum and your juices. The sight had your mouth watering. You fell to your knees before the admiral, hands reaching up to unfasten his belt. It fell to the floor with a satisfying clank, but you  didn’t even flinch.Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip as you oh-so-slowly began to free Thrawn’s cock. 

A low hiss escaped Thrawn’s lips as you took his bulging member into your hand. Your hand glided across the blue surface, eyes drinking in the veritable feast before you. No matter how many times you had been with Thrawn, his size always took you by surprise. The length, the girth, the thick veins covering the surface. Your attention shifted to the deep purple head, your  thumb swiping a bead of precum from the tip. Thrawn’s gasp  only  encouraged you to lean forward and take the tip into your mouth, his fingers instantly tangling in your hair. Your mouth slid down his length, struggling to take as much of him in as you could. You used your hand to take whatever can’t fit in your mouth, and your mouth and hand worked in tandem to pleasure him. Thrawn’s quiet moans and growls of pleasure only spurred you on, and you worked to take more of him in your mouth. Only once the head of his cock hit the back of your throat did you stop, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. His glowing gaze peered down at you, his lips ajar as he panted with need. 

The sight of you, on your knees before him, looking up at him from under your dark lashes,  his cock resting in your mouth–it almost sent him over the edge. It took everything he had to pull himself out of your mouth. You sat on your knees, looking up at him as he closed his  eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. A brief moment of uncertainty flashed across your face,  “Was it…not good for…” you trailed off, slightly confused why he stopped you. You weren’t one to brag, but you certainly hadn’t had any complaints before. Before you could even finish the sentence, Thrawn pressed a finger to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he breathed out. “I wasn’t going to last like that,” he finished, a small smile at the edge of his lips as he helped lift you to your feet. “And I’m not done with you,” he growled as his lips crashed against yours once more, but this time there was even more urgency in his kiss. He pressed your back against the elevator wall, sliding the skirt of your dress up your hips so he could lift you up again. Your legs wrapped around his waist, causing his throbbing member to brush up against your soaking wet cunt. Biting back a groan, Thrawn repositioned his hips to line up with your entrance.  With a growl, he slid home, your earlier  orgasm  helping his cock slide in with ease. You can feel and hear the groan deep in Thrawn’s throat as he bottoms out, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. 

Thrawn’s forehead dipped to touch yours, his unsteady breathing matching yours. His hips froze as he waited for you to adjust. You waited  a few beats,relishing the delicious stretch, before you gave a nod of approval. Supporting you with his hands, he pulled out, all the way to the  tip, before slamming home. Your head fell back to the durasteel wall as you gasped in pleasure. Thrawn continued  the action, hips colliding with yours,  every thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you. Your moans got louder, joining in the symphony of your bodies slapping against one another, the soft beat of your body against the cold wall of the turbolift as thrawn railed into you. It was too much. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you didn’t think  you could take much  more. “Yes,” you cred out,  “Yes, Fuck me, admiral,” you pant out, extra emphasis placed on his title. Thrawn’s hips  stutted at hearing  that word on  your  lips  once more . With a growl he  slammed into you even harder. “Again,” his voice so low it sent a shiver straight to your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged, as his hips pistoned in handout of you with abandon, veritably nailing you to the wall with his cock. He hit that delicious spot deep within you and every thrust pulled  you closer and closer to  bliss.  “Admiral,” you cried out before biting Thrawn’s shoulder as your orgasm crests, washing over you in endless waves of pleasure. You bit down harder than intended, but you don’t have time to regret it, not as Thrawn loses all semblance of control, thrusting into you with abandon. He  thrust into you once, twice, and a final time as he came with a roar of pleasure and his hips stuttered as he flooded you with his come. 

Your breaths were ragged, foreheads pressed against each other, feeling every twitch of  his cock deep inside you. After a few beats,  Thrawn withdrew, gently lowering you to the ground on legs that felt less than stable. He made sure to tuck himself back into his uniform and  adjust the remaining strap  on your dress. You kept your grip on him, balancing yourself, as you felt his hot seed start to drip down your leg. An attempted step forward proved to be too much in your addled state, your leg threatening collapse as soon as you tried to step away from Thrawn. Without a word, Thrawn scooped you up into his arms, deftly typing another code into the keypad. The turbolift gave a small jolt back to life, and you found yourself thankful that Thrawn was holding onto you so tightly. Like nothing happened, Thrawn stepped  off the lift and crossed you over to your home.

You dozed in and out of consciousness in your blissed-out, post-orgasmic state, but came to as Thrawn gingerly laid you on the bed. He  helped slide you out of your dress, and you made a mental note to berate him in the morning for ruining your dress, already mapping out when he would take you shopping for its replacement. You watched in silence as Thrawn disassembled his uniform and set it out almost reverently before crawling into bed next to you. Rolling onto your side, you laid your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I am so  proud of you, Admiral Thrawn,” you murmured. His hand trailed slow,  lazy circles  over  your arm and down your back, pulling you closer into him. “Everything I do is for you,” Thrawn replied, his voice barely  above a whisper. He pressed his lips to the top of  your head, “Ch'ah ch'acah vah.”

___

I follow through on my dares @vibratingbonesbis !!!

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