#and they used sock garters to keep their socks up because seeing skin and hair between the pants and shoes was like cringe??

[aurumacadicus]

Pride Pocket10--Stringing Him Along

Kink belongs at Pride and as an ace person I'm personally sick of people using my existence to try and push it out, so this year I'm dedicating my Pride Pockets to Kink. Anyway I am glad everyone is with me on making Steve the kind of guy who loves using toys on his lovers. I have combined it with him being an artist. You can find this posted on AO3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

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Steve finished darkening the shadows on his sketch slowly, allowing himself the time to savor the hiccupping little gasps Tony was letting out. He’d gotten the promise of three full sketches out of Tony, and it was only after the second one that Tony had seemed to realize just how much effort it was going to take to be a model for him. Steve took a moment to look over his other two sketches, just to see if Tony would finally admit defeat.

The first was simple enough, more a warmup than a true sketch—Tony on his stomach, ass in the air, bound hands between his planted knees. He looked vulnerable, wearing nothing but his button-up shirt and socks with garters. He’d been wearing a tie, but Steve had decided to cinch it tight around his wrists instead, partly to keep Tony from being able to just reach back and pull the beads out, but mostly because he liked the way the tie had looked wrapped around his arms. Steve had spent most of the first sketch watching Tony roll his hips so the weighted beads would shift over his prostate until he came, warming up with long strokes of his pencil to try and mimic Tony’s movements.

The second sketch was more finished than the first, Tony splayed out on his back, blown pupils hidden behind drooping eyelids. His legs were spread wide, showing off the retrieval ring between his cheeks, his spent cock, and a bite mark on the inside of his left thigh that Steve had left the night before. Tony had been so exhausted after finally working himself to orgasm, he’d let Steve move him around like a doll, getting him in just the right position. He’d put a pillow under Tony’s hips to prop him up more, show off his stuffed hole and trembling thighs. Steve hadn’t bitten his other thigh to give it a matching mark, but it had been a struggle.

Steve finally looked up from the sketches under the guise of comparing the third to his model. Tony had gotten his second wind, and Steve had taken full advantage of it, directing Tony up onto his knees so he could work on a front view of him. He’d hooked a bullet vibrator into the retrieval ring of the beads, which was barely small enough to fit, so didn’t pack a lot of power. It was enough that it sometimes made Tony’s hips jerk to chase it, though, and as the weight of the beads inside him shifted, he threw his head back to let out wounded little moans, muscles taut as he fought the urge to chase it because he didn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of getting himself off untouched again.

Tony’s shirt was soaked with sweat from the exertion, the white fabric clinging to him like a second skin as his reactor glowed dimly through it. His hair was starting to curl where it had gotten damp with sweat as well, and sometimes his sharp eyes would catch a drop trickling down the side of his face, or down a shaking thigh. His bound hands were clasped in front of him, shoulders rolling every once in a while to try and ease the ache from the way his arms were position. His eyes were wet, and every so often he’d glare at Steve, but it was undercut by the way his teeth dug into his bottom lip to force back any of the begging he obviously wanted to do.

Steve leaned back in his seat casually, as if he didn’t want to make Tony fuck himself to not only a second orgasm, but a third and a fourth. “Well, I think these are enough for me right now. How ‘bout we take those pretty beads out of you, huh?”

“You asshole,” Tony choked out, frozen in place again, because if he moved, he’d shift the weights. Steve knew he enjoyed it, though. His cock had firmed up as he'd knelt for him, full and heavy between his trembling thighs.

Steve didn’t say so, just letting Tony believe he was getting his way. He so rarely got the upper hand between the two of them. He wasn’t going to give this one up. Instead, he stood, walking over to the bed and curling his fingers around Tony’s waist.

“Wait,” Tony gasped, startled, as he realized what was about to happen.

Steve ignored him, instead using his grip to tip him backward so he fell on his back. He took a moment to relish the punched-out whine Tony let out as the beads’ weight shifted with each bounce across the mattress. He took the vibrator out of the retrieval ring and turned it off, tossing it with the other toys to wash. “Look at you,” he cooed as Tony gasped for air. “All soft and sweet for me. Open your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Tony’s thighs spread obediently, and he was certain it was only because he was so happy with the prospect of having the beads taken out.

Steve hooked his finger into the retrieval ring and pulled, watching as the cord began slipping out of his body until finally, the first bead caught against Tony’s rim. He traced the edge of it with his thumb, glancing up at Tony with a smirk. “If you manage not to come from me pulling the beads out, I’ll suck you off.”

“Yes,” Tony answered immediately, breathless, before what Steve said really registered. He grimaced, managing a suspicious scowl as he added, “And if I don’t?”

“I’m putting the beaded plug in you and you have to keep it in all night,” Steve purred, giving the retrieval ring a twist. It made Tony arch his back and whine in response, eyes nearly crossing with pleasure.

He pulled again, watching as Tony’s hole gripped onto the silicone, trying to suck it back in. This was his favorite set; each bead was about the size of a golf ball, and Tony squirmed so nicely both when he pressed them into his wet hole and when he tugged them back out. He’d said once before that the way the weights shifted if he even moved minutely lit something up inside him that no other toy could replicate, and Steve loved watching the way his muscles worked to get himself off. This, though, was his favorite part of being able to use anal beads on Tony, the end of the night—he got to tease him with them, until he was nearly foaming at the mouth with pleasure and frustration, overwhelmed and wanton at the same time. He had an entire sketchbook dedicated to the way Tony’s hole looked stretched around his collection of beads.

Steve gave a little tug, pulling the bead past the halfway point so Tony could push it out instead. Tony jerked like he’d been shot as it slipped free, hips rolling into the mattress as his hole fluttered around the cord uselessly. His mouth dropped open into wet panting, and he lost his battle to keep his tears at bay, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Steve took a moment to pet along his thighs, leaning in to press a kiss to his hip. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just two more. You can do it.”

“I can’t,” Tony moaned, voice cracking.

“Yes you can, baby,” Steve assured, adjusting his grip so that he could work the second bead out.

Tony groaned, head moving back and forth even as his thighs strained wider. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Steve cooed, curling his free hand tighter around Tony’s hip to help him keep still. “Here’s the second one, sweetheart.”

“I c—” Tony began to choke out, then cut himself off, choking on the words as Steve rocked the cord back and forth to leverage the bead out faster. His hips strained against Steve’s grip, trying to thrust up, though whether to jerk into his rocking or flee it, Steve couldn’t tell. His still-bound hands flew down to grab his forearm, knuckles going white with how tightly he dug his fingers in.

Steve hardly noticed, focusing on watching Tony’s hole reluctantly spreading for the second bead. He’d become an expert at this, getting Tony all whiny and overwhelmed, squirming and desperate for him. The first bead required soothing, as Tony’s brain shifted from focusing on the pleasure of the main event to the relief of it ending. He loved when Steve put the beads in, loved fucking himself to completion on them (especially with Steve as his audience), but then he realized that they had to come out after he was already so sensitive, and he got overwhelmed. The second bead had to be quick, almost impersonal, no teasing. Tony needed to see that he could get through it, that he was capable of the beads being pulled out without simply passing out.

It left the third bead for Steve to tease him with, and the day Tony realized that Steve had a pattern, he was going to be in trouble. Luckily, as the second bead popped free and Tony sagged like his strings had been cut, Steve doubted it was going to be that day.

“Fuck,” Tony gasped, hips straining against Steve’s grip again.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, letting go of the beads so he could run his hands up and down Tony’s sides. “Almost done. One more bead left. You’re doing so well for me.”

Tony sucked in a wet breath, shaking his head, but he obediently tipped his head up when Steve finally crawled up his body to pull him into a kiss, bound hands coming up so he could curl his fingers into Steve’s shirt. “Please,” he whimpered against Steve’s lips.

Steve took a moment to suckle on Tony’s swollen bottom lip, then finally leaned back, petting over Tony’s sides and stomach gently. “One more, sweetheart. And you’re gonna come on it.”

“’m not,” Tony mumbled, somehow still having the wherewithal to be mulish about it.

Steve was reluctantly impressed by that, if nothing else. “Okay,” he said, instead of telling him so, and leaned back to look between Tony’s legs again, grabbing the retrieval ring with a playful tug that made Tony grunt. He didn’t wince under the glare Tony responded with, but barely. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Tony huffed, but immediately lost all his haughtiness when Steve pulled on the retrieval ring again, back arching as the last bead was pulled forward.

Steve took his time. He wasn’t going to allow Tony to try and force him into giving up his favorite part of playing with the beads. He let the cord go lax so Tony’s body would draw it back in, then drew it taut again, watching as Tony’s hips shook with the effort to not rock against his grip. Steve knew he was close—Tony’s body was tense like a bowstring, and it would only take a pluck in the right place for him to fall apart.

He pulled the cord tight enough that Tony’s hole began to spread open for the bead to peek out, pausing when he noticed Tony’s toes curling. Steve had no intention of letting Tony lose the bet so easily, even if he already knew how it was going to end. He relaxed his grip a little so Tony’s body sucked the bead back in.

“You fucking asshole,” Tony gasped, back arching.

Steve grabbed his hip and shoved him flat again, punching the air out of him, though whether because the bead shifted in response or it startled him, he didn’t know. “Don’t be sassy.” Tony managed a glare, but his chest was heaving too hard to speak. Steve decided that that was answer enough, drawing the cord tight again and pulling the bead out further this time, until Tony was whining, thighs shaking, hips jerking uselessly under Steve’s grip. He tugged a little, just to make Tony think he was going to pull the bead out all the way, then let his grip relax again.

Tony howled, furious, and tried to swing at him with his bound hands. Steve caught his wrists easily in one hand, lunging forward to pin them above Tony’s head so he couldn’t swing again. He used his knees to keep Tony’s thighs wedged apart so he couldn’t kick him instead. “You big fucking tease I hate you!” Tony yowled, squirming impotently.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve answered, unable to keep the fondness from his voice, and leaned in to press their mouths together to swallow anymore complaints. He knew Tony didn’t have a lot of fight left in him, too exhausted from his first orgasm and then trying to keep his last pose. Tony just liked to complain (a lot, sometimes) so Steve had to let him work through it at his own pace.

Tony eventually relaxed, falling limp below him with a muted whimper as Steve leaned back. “Steve, please…”

Steve pressed one last, chaste kiss to his mouth, then crawled backward, confident, at least, that Tony wouldn’t come up swinging again. His hands came down to rest on Tony’s still-shaking thighs and pet them soothingly, as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he promised, and Tony let out a shuddering sigh in response.

Steve grabbed the retrieval ring again, free hand still resting on Tony’s thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. He waited for Tony to take a deep breath, then pulled on the cord until it went tight. Tony went stiff, whimpering again, but Steve soothed him through it as he carefully used his grip to wiggle the cord back and forth, using the bead’s shifting weight to his advantage. Tony made a very interesting squeaky noise in response. He’d have to remember this trick for next time.

“Steve,” Tony whimpered, hips jerking up again, before his head dropped back with a gasp.

“I’ve got you,” Steve repeated as he pulled the cord tighter, until Tony’s hole was opening again, and he caught a peek of the silicon beginning to come out. He couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his lips at the sight, Tony’s pink hole straining around the bead, at his mercy. It was truly unfair how pretty Tony looked when he was like this, debauched, drenched with sweat, body straining against the toy inside of him. Struggling to give up control, but trusting Steve with it anyway.

Tony’s hips jerked as he pulled the bead to the halfway point and held it, and he let out a sound that was both plaintive and needy. His thighs strained to push himself up the bed, as if to physically move away from the cord, but they were exhausted from holding his earlier pose, so he barely moved at all. He whined, helpless, and sagged onto the mattress in defeat. “Please…”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Steve replied agreeably, as if he hadn’t expected Tony to give up eventually, and leaned in to take the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth. Tony had earned it for being such a good sport, after all.

He was immediately rewarded with another howl and Tony finding the strength to arch his back, chasing the wet heat of his mouth. Steve dipped his head further, taking Tony into his throat and swallowing around him. He traced his tongue along the vein up the side, then grasped the cord of the beads tighter and gave one final tug, jerking the last bead free with a faint pop that he only heard because of his enhanced hearing.

Tony jerked, back somehow managing to arch further, mouth opening in a silent scream as every muscle in his body locked up. Steve slid his hands under him to help hold him up as he felt Tony’s dick pulsing in his mouth, pressing closer so Tony was deeper in his throat. He swallowed around him until Tony started letting out overwhelmed little mewls, and once he felt Tony going limp in his hold, he carefully eased him back down onto the bed, pulling off his cock with a wet gasp.

“Fuck,” Tony croaked, sniffling, and then, “Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, fighting the urge to dive down and take his softening cock back into his mouth. Tony was always super sensitive after orgasm. He might find the strength to punch Steve in the face if he did that.

“Will you untie my wrists now? I’m sore,” Tony managed, then let out a long sigh from deep in his belly as Steve obediently reached up to pick the knot loose, so he could let each arm drop, limp, on either side of him, allowing his shoulders and chest to relax.

Steve ran his hand down Tony’s stomach slowly as he fiddled with the tie between his fingers. He could feel the muscles there fluttering up against his palm. His shirt was still soaked with sweat. He’d need to get that off of him before it cooled and got clammy, he thought, reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

Tony flailed a hand up and managed to smack himself on the shoulder before he managed to grasp one of Steve’s hands, brows furrowing together in confusion. “Aren’t you going to put the plug in?”

Steve blinked, surprised. He glanced down between Tony’s legs, then back up at his face, frowning. “I’m not going to hold you to that, Tony. I know I’ve already asked for a lot. I’m not going to push it. Chalk it up to teasing.”

“But… you like using the beads on me,” Tony said, sitting up a little on his elbows. He tilted his head, frowning. “I know I complain a lot, but if I really had a problem, I’d use my safe word.”

Steve couldn’t help a slightly uncomfortable shrug. Yes, he did like using the beads on Tony, liked the way he squirmed on them and gasped as each individual bead pushed into or pulled free of his semi-exhausted body. Sometimes he felt a little… embarrassed, though, about how much he enjoyed teasing Tony with the beads, watching him sweat and get desperate to come. Not enough that he’d stop completely, but… he could show restraint. Sometimes.

Tony stared at him a little longer, then leaned back, deliberately taking a moment to spread his thighs wider. “If you put the plug in, I’ll still be wet and open enough for you to just slide right in in the morning,” he said, and Steve felt like the air had been punched out of him. He slanted Steve a smug smirk before he went back to batting his eyelashes. “If you can take them out without waking me up in the morning, I’ll skip my early meeting and let you fuck me as long as you want.”

Steve was grabbing for the plug before the offer even truly registered, and he took one moment to wonder what he’d done to ever deserve Tony before he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’m using the one with four beads.”

“You like a challenge,” Tony managed to tease before Steve carefully pressed two fingers into him and spread them. He threw his head back with an exhausted mewl, hips giving an aborted twitch upward as the first bead, much smaller than the ones on the other set, was pressed inside him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Steve agreed, knowing he’d be staying up a few more hours to sketch the way Tony’s hole stretched under the abuse he gave it. The largest bead on the plug was half the size of the previous beads, but Tony’s hole sucked them in greedily anyway. That was one of the reasons sex was so good with Tony, though—his body was so eager, and he was so generous, it was impossible to have bad sex with him.

Tony fell limp once Steve settled the handle of the plug between his cheeks, cheeks flushed a very pretty shade of pink. “Okay,” he panted. “Now take this shirt off me.”

“Okay,” Steve answered obediently, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. He considered carrying Tony to the bathroom to rinse him off, then decided against it—he was clearly exhausted, and he didn’t want to move him too much. A quick wipe with a washcloth would have to do until he recovered a little bit. He carefully eased Tony’s limp arms out of the sleeves. “Do you want pajamas after I wipe you down, or do you just want to sleep like this?”

“You’ll never be able to cope if I sleep like this,” Tony huffed. He shivered as Steve eased him upright just enough to pull his shirt off his shoulders, toes curling as the plug shifted inside him. He sucked in a shuddering breath, then let it back out in a sigh as Steve laid him back down again. “I’ll take one of your shirts.”

“I regret to inform you that you are seriously underestimating how sexy it is when you wear my clothes,” Steve informed him flatly, but there was amusement edging his tone. He unclipped the garters from around Tony’s calves and carefully pulled his socks down and off. “Can I just cover you with a blanket?”

“If you can keep your filthy paws off me, yeah,” Tony assured him, eyelids drooping now that Steve had stopped moving him around. “If you put underwear on me, I will die.”

Steve let out a short chuckle. “You will not. If you were going to die, it would have been on that last bead.”

“I'll kill you,” Tony huffed, eyes fluttering shut, even as his hand clenched into a fist.

Steve crawled up to press a quick kiss to his lips before he sat up, turning to get off the bed. “Love you. Go to sleep.”

“I’m falling asleep because I want to, not because you told me to,” Tony groused. He spread his thighs open a little further, then let out a sigh, relaxing further into the mattress. “Love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Steve replied gently, heart flipping in his chest at how casual Tony had been about being vulnerable in front of him. He’d even spread his legs a little more, so he’d have a better view for the sketches he was going to do of his stuffed hole. Tony was so generous and sweet, even when he was wrung out and oversensitive.

Steve wiped him down quickly so he wouldn’t disturb him too much, then pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat down, settling his sketchbook on his lap. Tony might need the rest, but Steve knew he needed to wind down before he could settle to sleep. He couldn’t think of a more perfect way to do it.

#aurumacadicus writes #pride pockets #kink edition #stony #lemon

[wri0thesley]

ahem here is a self indulgent domestic nanami x reader fanfiction that i also posted on ao3. u can tell i wrote it bc i looked at nanami and said ‘that’s a man that wears sock garters and that’s very sexy of him’

routine // 3k words // nanami x reader warnings: afab reader, fem pronoun, domestic stuff, nsfw, fingering, creampie, idk pals i’m just thirsty

You don’t mind the mundane.

No, that’s not quite it. It’s not that you don’t mind the mundane – you do, when it becomes sticky and muddled and drags on and on and on. You’ve been trapped in an endless cycle like that before; allowing life to happen to you, as trade-off for simplicity. Planning things that didn’t materialise. You hadn’t realised that’s what you were doing, at the time – but looking back on it now, it’s clear as day, because it was exactly what had been happening to him.

Your life is not mundane. Your life is . . . routine.

Yes, that’s right. You stick to a schedule. You keep time. You plan things – and it’s not mundane, not any more, because this time as you stick to your routine, Nanami is right there beside you.

It’s domestic. Comfortable. Oh, you worry about him – he comes home enough times with scrapes and bruises he didn’t have before and tells you about his day, world-weary – but you also know he’s more than strong enough to withstand. You curl up next to him whilst he reads a book, or whilst you watch television. You cook for him on the few days off that he snatches for himself (though he often wraps himself around you whilst you do cook, directing you or helping. He’s a better cook than you, but you have more time than him). You drape yourself over the back of his armchair sometimes and work on the knots in his neck.

“You get too stressed,” you tell him. His lips quirk into a brief curve of a smile before they return to their usual position.

“Maybe,” he says. “But you help me with that.”

For all of the unusual things in your lives, your existence is uncomplicated. You watch weight roll off of him when he comes in through the front door and is once more safely ensconced in a little slice of home. You and he share the household duties; he’s meticulous and careful, and you admire him sometimes when you think he’s not watching for being so . . . balanced, you suppose.

(“That’s you, too,” he tells you. He shrugs. “Everyone else . . . they’re living absolute chaos. But I get to come back after I clock off, to you, and . . . this.” He gestures to the little home. It’s nothing special. It’s neat and tidy and small and the two of you have reasonable savings in the bank. Responsible. You think he keeps you balanced, too.)

But . . .

Well. He’s not always so in-control.

He hadn’t sounded harried when he’d called you. He doesn’t often; instead, his voice had been calm. You know Nanami well enough to know when there’s frustration bubbling under the surface, but his tone had been smooth.

“I’ll be home late,” he’d said. “Don’t wait up.”

“Overtime?” You’d asked, already looking at the pot boiling on the stove and wondering if it could be salvaged for tomorrow’s dinner. Nanami had paused, and then sighed.

“Mm.”

You don’t let yourself worry too much. Nanami handles whatever is thrown at him – he’s always in control, poised. . . The most you see him frustrated is from calls from Gojo in the middle of the night.

You put your own phone away. There’s no use in concern yet, you tell yourself.

You don’t start to worry until you crawl into bed without having heard from him. This is late, even for him. You try not to let your anxiety eat away at you as you close your eyes and lay your head on the pillow, but the scent of him permeates every part of your bedroom. One of his shirts hangs loosely on the back of the wardrobe door. The drawer on his side of the bed that contains a collection of novelty ties (bought by you, because you’d thought they were funny – and Nanami had smiled at the first one, and laughed at the second, so you just hadn’t stopped) is still half-open from him rifling through it this morning.

The click of a key in the front door makes you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. The sound of footsteps on the wooden floorboards, a familiar, steady cadence, makes you let go of sheets you hadn’t realised you were clutching.

Nanami’s head rounds the door.

“You’re late,” you tell him.

“I am,” he affirms. He steps into the room proper and you see that his shirt-sleeves are rolled up, and there’s a splash of blood on his left shoulder. He probably was in more bother than he let on, then. You don’t think it’s his blood, at least. He sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

You sag. You know it’s part and parcel of what he does – and so, you move in the bed from where you’ve unconsciously pressed yourself into his side to breathe in the familiar scent of him. You know Nanami doesn’t miss you’ve done it – he comes to sit on the edge of the bed as he meticulously undoes his tie.

He reaches over to you and cups your cheek in his hand, his fingers warm and calloused.

“How about I make it up to you?” He asks, and you sigh as he breaches the gap and kisses you. Everything about his kiss is familiar and comforting – you’re pressing back against him before you even think about it, hand coming to tangle in the neatly combed hair. He tastes like coffee, and it makes your eyes open against the kiss and check the time. It’s late. Nanami generally prefers to be sleeping by now. You'd once laughed and told him he was boring, and he'd raised his eyebrows and smiled as he'd told you that sleep was important. After spending the night wrapped around him, your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart - you'd been inclined to agree.

“Aren’t you tired?” You murmur, breaking the kiss yourself. Nanami quirks an eyebrow at you. The hand still on your face brushes across your cheekbone tenderly. You don’t think anyone who works with Nanami imagines him like this – messy-haired, half-undressed, his stoic composure gone to softness. Every time he even half-smiles, your heart feels like it will ricochet out of his rib-cage, but when he looks at you now you get the full thing.

“Too tired for you? Never.” He shifts on the bed, shrugging off his suspenders along with the stained shirt. He’ll do that laundry himself – he always does, when it’s bloodstains. “Besides,” he breathes as his hands move to stroke over your shoulders, his breath tickling the junction where your neck and collarbone meet and making you shiver. “I still have plenty of energy to work off before I can get to sleep peacefully.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get a fulfilling night’s rest—”

The bed covers are swept off of you. When Nanami has made up his mind to do something, he does it – and right now, it appears what he’s made up his mind to do is you. His hands are big on your hips, sliding up the loose shirt of your pyjamas. You let out a soft huff of breath as he pushes them up over your breasts that makes him lean in and kiss your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh. Your fingers flex on his shoulders as he cages you underneath him.

“Oh,” he promises against the skin. “When we’re done, I’ll rest very easy.”

You lose the shirt just as quickly as Nanami lost his, and then you both stop talking. Nanami is the kind of man who doesn’t use a hundred words when one or two will do – he’s happy to have conversations, when conversation is the name of the game . . . but conversation is not the name of the game when his mouth is busy kissing your neck, your throat, your collarbone . . . When his lips are wrapping around your nipple and teasing it to a hardened point until you moan aloud.

In the pit of your stomach is heat and fire and need. When Nanami moves against you and your thighs press together, you can already feel that you’re slick and warm with the promise of what is still to come – and when Nanami, too, moves, you can tell that he’s looking forward to things just as much as you are.

His thumbs hook into the shorts of the nightwear set you were wearing. The fear of less than an hour ago seems to have dissipated in the wind – it’s hard to remember how worried you were when Nanami comes home fired up like this. He drags the fabric down your thighs, tsk-ing at how they catch.

“A nightgown or shirt would be more efficient,” he tells you. “You’re welcome to one of mine.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts, and Nanami doesn’t miss how your skin warms underneath him. You’re so cute. He kisses you again so he doesn’t embarrass himself, this time peeling off your underwear (the thin cotton clings to your damp sex and your breath hitches at how it feels, peeling away).

“Are you going to tell me it’d be more efficient if I weren’t wearing them?” You say, your voice coming out low and husky.

“I’d be right if I did,” he tells you, but he’s far more preoccupied with the button and zip of his trousers. You reach over to help him with it, your hand brushing the hot, hard length of him through the fabric – you always forget just how big he is until you’re confronted once more. Your body gives a low throb of arousal, a reminder that the need inside of you requires sating sooner rather than later.

Nanami is patient. You are not.

There. The zip, the button – and Nanami is pulling off the fabric, leaving it too in a pool by the side of the bed that you know he will probably manage to get into the wash basket before it ever crosses your mind. He’s still wearing socks and sock garters, and whilst normally you’d laugh at him and make him take them off before he got into bed . . .

Well. There are more important things to think about right now, and you can’t deny that the sock garters are endearing.

His cock brushes against your thigh and you start, a soft noise escaping your lips that makes him look down at you tenderly. He tips his head to the side in a silent question and you nod in a silent answer – his fingers push your thighs further apart, sinking into plush flesh, stroking along the slick outer lips of your sex--

His knuckle brushes the swollen bundle of nerves of your clit and you sigh, your hips bucking up for more of the friction. You know that this is just him being kind – a precursor to the main event – but you still can’t help but greedily seek out more and more of him. He clicks his tongue again.

“You’re so impatient sometimes,” he chides, though his cock hard and hot against your skin is just as impatient as you are. He slides one of his fingers inside you, your walls clinging tight to the digit. He pumps it in and out of you, once, twice – and then, a second finger is inside you, stretching you out. One of your hands twists into the sheets as you helplessly let him fuck into you with his fingers. You know that he’s doing it in preparation for fucking you – he often does – but it doesn’t mean that you’re any less impatient for the main event.

“You’re teasing me,” you tell him, breathlessly. He smiles, more to himself than to you.

“I suppose so,” he replies. He’s enjoying it. You know he is – tension is draining from his shoulders the more he looks at you, the fingers still plunging in and out of you growing more lax and liquid in their movements. The sound of him inside you is lasciviously loud in your bedroom. You don’t mind helping him work out his tension – whether with cuddling up to him, or cooking together, or massaging the knots from his back – but you do mind when he teases you--

“Please,” you say, breathlessly, your hips rocking in time with his hand. He can never resist it when you’re polite.

His fingers come out of you with an audible slick noise.

“You’re ready, anyway,” he murmurs. He absent-mindedly places the two fingers that were buried inside you against his tongue, tasting you – your cheeks are hot again at the way he tips his head back, savouring the taste of you. Just another little moment of intimacy. It’s not unusual, but that doesn’t make it feel any less erotic.

He cradles you like you’re something precious as he settles heavy between your thighs. His hands on your hips are certain. There’s a warmth about Nanami that few people are privileged enough to see – one you’re privileged enough to see every night and every morning, when he wakes up next to you sleep-tousled or comes in and leaves a warm package from your favourite bakery in front of you that he picked up on his way home.

You breath through the initial sting as he stretches you out on him, and then there is nothing but the pleasure of being filled. You feel yourself mould to his cock inside you, your walls snugly accepting him, hot and wet around his shaft. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and as he bottoms out inside of you, for a moment you two are joined entirely. You can feel his heart beating against yours.

“I love you,” you breathe, against the shell of his ear. He kisses at your neck in return, his voice very soft as he returns the affirmation of one of his own. He is not one for sappy declarations – he is a man of small acts of service. Still. He speaks it against your skin and it feels like a tattoo on your heart.

“I love you too.”

After that, neither of you speak. Instead, you concentrate on Nanami’s powerful hips as they roll against you, his cock brushing the sensitive spots of your wall, stoking the flame inside of you that’s been steadily burning since the moment he untied his tie. You concentrate on moving your own body in tandem with his, the squeeze of your channel around him, the way that he grinds himself just so against your clit with every thrust so that your body feels fizzing with unreleased promise.

His mouth against your collarbones and neck. Your nails digging into his shoulders. He’s well-built despite seeming nondescript in his suit and tie – you’re heart-achingly familiar with the taut muscle making up his arms and backs. The places he’s scarred, even after being healed up.

You can hear him breathing heavier and heavier against your ear as his peak nears. Your own is rushing up on you, as Nanami’s hips begin to rock quicker and quicker, his cock plunging impossibly deep into you with every drive. You think, for a wild moment, he’s going to come first, despite the fact he’s always been nothing but the gentleman in control of himself no matter how many times the two of you become one--

And then, the hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach becomes overwhelming and bursts into pieces, wet heat soaking you, waves of pleasure lapping at you as your body shakes and constricts around him. Everything is so hot. His body above yours is burning, warm, needful--

Your nails have dug into his skin hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks, but Nanami is chasing his own release now, his eyes clouded with lust as he looks down at you. Aftershocks of your own orgasm make your channel pulsate around him--

You’re tender as you pull him down by the neck and kiss him, teeth worrying at his bottom lip – and he groans into your mouth at the same time as you feel his cock inside you twitch, and the heat of his come fill you. That’s not a problem. You’ve talked about that plenty of times – both of you agree that you’re happy the way you are. Children are dangerous.

. . . But it’s nice to feel claimed by him. Nice to have him rest hot and heavy inside you, like a marker of his affection even as he’s pulling out of you and leaving you full and heavy and sticky. He smooths kisses onto your brow. He doesn’t murmur sweet words against you, but you know he’s thinking them if only from the way he holds you and the way that his hands dance over your skin like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

(You are; and he is to you, though neither of you say it aloud. In the sanctity of the quiet bedroom, though, both of you know it as an absolute fact.)

He’s breathing heavy as he sits on the edge of the bed again, reaching down to undo his sock garters and remove the socks themselves. The tell-tale rustle of clothing and slam of the drawers on his side of the bed tell you he’s neatly folding the dirtied garments and getting out something to wear in bed himself.

“Are you tired now?” You ask him. Nanami turns his head to look at you, and you can see the tell-tale sign of shadows under his eyes.

“Yes,” he says. You laugh, and the sound seems like pealing bells to him. You wrap an arm about his waist and pull him against the bedsheets, curling a leg over his, wrapping yourself around him in an embrace that he at first resists before leaning into.

“It’s easier if you don’t get dressed.” You mumble against his neck, as you nestle yourself into the crook of his shoulders. Nanami uses one arm to pull up the bed covers he stripped from you earlier. “More . . .” You stifle your own yawn. “More efficient, if we decide to waste time in the morning.”

The covers wrap around both of you, the wrinkled clothes forgotten (Nanami will tut at himself in the morning, but for now, he’s enjoying your body so close to his).

“Time with you,” he says softly, “is never wasted time.”

#writing #not jojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #not sfw #i am not a multi fandom blog.... YET!!!! #jjk posting #jjk writing tag

[tale-xistime]

“before i wanted nothing to do with you; now i can’t imagine my life without you” for Lizzington?

| So I saw THIS ⬇️…

https://tale-xistime.tumblr.com/post/656479243714330624/thecollectibles-shoe-studies-by-julia

…post and something about it just SCREAMED Red to me. I really wanted to do a fic with Red having these sock clips, and just with Reds fashion in general. When suddenly a little inkling in my mind was like, hey there’s a prompt buried somewhere that could go along with the direction you want to take this, so I looked, and here this was! So I hope everyone enjoys the concept of sock garters on Red as much as I do, and here is this! Also Spaders, thank you for the prompts you’ve sent and how patient you’ve been, and I hope you enjoy this my friend. |

Dressing impeccably is part of what makes the Concierge of Crime, the Concierge of Crime. Raymond Reddington has a routine he uses in the mornings to get dressed, and well, Liz just feels blessed to see it for the first time.

(She could get used to this.)

Last night got a little out of hand. But only in the best way possible. They were on an undercover op, playing as a couple. Their contact had given them the information they needed and left, leaving them to their own devices. They stayed together, and just simply talked. They ate dinner together, and drank enough wine to take the edge off, but not to be past the point of a clear mind. They sat for hours, long past the op’s completion, talking about various childhood stories, likes and dislikes, and then somehow miraculously, the conversation shifted to the topic of each other.

“Red, what do you think of me?”

She clearly remembered the way he had cocked his head, leaning in closer as if she were sharing a secret.

“In terms of what, Lizzie?”

“Just in terms of, viability as a partner. A romantic partner.”

This took Red aback, making him lean back from the table slightly. He swirled the glass of wine around, just to give his hands something to do as he tried to collect the right words.

“Intelligent. Breathtakingly beautiful, innately clever, kind, resourceful, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you Lizzie.” He finished quietly, looking down to the table, anywhere but at Lizzie.

“Mmm.” His reaction told her just what she was wondering, just what she needed to be confirmed. She felt emboldened by Red's compliments, and a daring, reckless, probably worst but possibly best idea that she had ever had began to form in her mind.

She was feeling brave tonight.

It didn’t take long watching him examine her curiously before she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to tell him.

(She was falling in love with him. She couldn’t say when it had happened, perhaps it had been when he had saved her life, maybe it was as recent as tonight or maybe she had just always loved him, from the second she descended upon his chained figure down in the box. She just had to realize it for herself.)

“I don’t want just any man though.” She said quietly, eyes cast downward. Shocking him out of his quite obvious inspection of her face. His eyebrows stuck together, their breath mingling over the table they were both leaning over. She looked back up to him, wondered what he was thinking from behind his confused expression.

She continued, talking quickly to get it all out in a rush, before she lost her nerve and changed her mind.

“I want one man. The only problem is I think he’s too scared, too scared to let go of his fears and self doubts to believe that I could want him too. Something real, unlike what I had with Tom.”

She steeled her nerves, figuring it was too late to turn back now as she traced her hand up from his knee, to rest on his inner thigh. Needing some way to cement in his mind who the subject matter could be. It worked.

His face had changed with every word she said, with every inch the pads of her fingertips climbed. He was bewildered, shaken, and almost hopeful.

His shock only grew as Liz took her other hand to gently guide his face, leaning him further over the table for his lips to align with hers. He was losing control, and while one part of him was reveling in letting Lizzie take control, reveling in what she was implying that she could want to be with him, that she could want him, the other half of him screamed to stop! Because he could only ever bring her pain, misery, and danger, when she deserved everything else pure and good in the world instead of his useless husk of a self-

“Lizzie,” he had gasped, just a breath away, wanting to do anything but talk. “It's too dangerous, you and me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do, especially if you were hurt by someone I unintentionally brought into your life, I would only ever put you in danger and I can’t-” His pleading was interrupted by her gentle but fervent yank on his jaw, her calm and determined eyes meeting his.

“Raymond,” she spoke his name, his God given name for the first time she could remember. Reaching her hand up higher on his thigh, she ran her fingers over his scalp. His eyes drifted closed at the sensation, eliciting a deep thrum from him.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, because before I wanted nothing to do with you, but now I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m falling for you, and I need you. I want you. Let me in. We’ll protect each other and survive, thrive, just like we always do. Take me home. Let me show you how much I need you. How much I love you.”

She leaned in, meeting him halfway over their table and kissed him.

It was a chaste thing, their mouths only slightly sliding and slipping together.

They broke apart, eyes closed and forehead to forehead, unreasonably breathless and completely undone.

Her arms snaked around his shoulders, running her palms over his shorn hair to rest on his neck. His hands moved to rest on her knees, and before long he threw down a 20 and swept her out of the restaurant to his safe house.

They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other on the drive, and barely made it past the door before his slacks were unbuttoned on the floor and her dress was unzipped and slung haphazardly on a doorknob.

It was the best sex she’d ever had.

Tom couldn’t hold a candle to Red. He knew just what she wanted, his talents extending far far beyond what even she had imagined. They just worked together. Perfectly.

“We’re gonna make a great team.”

She had never had a man be able to get her to see stars. Let alone twice back to back.

The various dreams and fantasies she had let play out in her mind before, well the real thing was just so much better.

She woke up this morning in his arms, warm and curled into his side, his nose nuzzled into her tousled hair. Her hands gently twitched to life against the curve of his spine, her eyes blinking open to the sun that streamed through the sheer curtains.

She awoke first out of the two of them, allowing her the experience of watching him slowly wake, cuddling as close to her as possible as he rested.

His face was youthful and slack, his mouth slightly open in a small snore.

It was glorious.

Red had eventually slowly awakened, looking more rested than she could ever remember.

She’d hugged him, and peppered his face with kisses, before he snagged her lips and pulled her onto him. His neck craned up to meet hers, hands lightly settled on her waist.

He’d pulled away, gently tucking her cascading hair behind her ear before whispering in his deepest and most graveled morning voice.

“Good morning sweetheart.”

Her heart swelled at the sight of him, at the sound of him.

“Good morning love.”

She settled against his chest, listening as his overwhelmed heart skipped a prompt beat due to her words.

They laid there for a while, Lizzie about to fall back peacefully asleep when suddenly Red shifted from under her.

“Is that really the time?” His line of sight had caught the glowing orange clock in the corner of the room, perched on a dresser.

“Oh shit, you have to meet your contact with last night's info right?”

Liz slid off Red, the covers pooling around her as he leapt to his feet.

“Yes. In under an hour.”

And with that he disappeared into his closet, occasionally throwing a piece of a suit onto the dresser.

Her mind wandered back to him, to his perfection, his skill. Which ultimately proved to be a disservice to herself, with every thought of last night and it’s activities, she was left craving more.

Red came back into the room, buck naked and bared for only her to see. That certainly didn’t help her in her effort to try and behave.

To try and occupy her, she watches him start to get ready, and quickly finds herself becoming fascinated with his dressing regiment. A process she quickly begins memorizing.

He pulls on a pair of black boxers first, (she tries not to let herself be disappointed by this complete loss of her new most favorite view) soon followed by impeccable black slacks.

A taunt leather belt, and white undershirt are next.

She watches in awe as he pulls on the shirt, his arms drifting up through the fabric first, hands stretching towards the rich cream of his smooth ceiling before helping to lift the bunched cloth past his shorn hair.

His head quickly follows with his calloused and capable hands help, the white of the shirts’ threads appearing to pool around his shoulders in one swift motion.

He situates the fabric to wash down his torso, now completely concealing his supple, and scarred skin from her.

He fists his button-up, sliding one arm and then the next through the crisp, snow white polyester. He turns to face her then, knowing that she’s watching with the utmost interest, cocking his head and examining the lust left plain on her face. Matching it with his own.

His eyes skim easily down her mainly bare body, just sitting there, plainly exposed on his sheets.

(His sheets!)

He can’t handle it anymore, knows that if he keeps looking at her softness he’ll crack, so he gulps and turns away. Trying to calm down the blush rising.

His nimble fingers make fast work of the buttons, and before long he swings on his favorite windowpane waistcoat, the silky fabric as jet-black as a moonless sky.

Her trance is broken by his soft murmur, just barely audible as his hand grabs a silver Rolex and fastens it to his other wrist, his waistcoat left unbuttoned.

“Lizzie, can you grab me a tie?” She blinks once or twice before moving, grabbing last night's undershirt off the floor as she does so.

Raymond is dumbfounded as she tugs on his shirt, watching as the oversized cloth drifts down past the only thing she previously had on. The sapphire, lacy blue panties now completely shielded.

His mouth is wide open, for more than a second, struck speechless by the complete lack of hesitation Elizabeth had in completely wrecking him.

She returns still wearing his shirt, a storm cloud grey tie clutched in her hands. Dark crosshatching running along its surface. Slinging it across his shoulders and tucking it under his collar, she begins tying it without a word, their breath mingling together.

The tension between them is smooth, rich, and welcomed. But at the same time it remains jagged, pulling, and cutting. Something has shifted, and now they need each other. It’s something primal, the pair of heating cores in the room, if just due to the proximity and domesticity of waking up to one another. The urge created by perfect balance and harmony the night before. It’s effects are intoxicating, addictive, and demanding.

She finishes the knot easily, adjusting the tie and looking up into his pupil-blown eye.

(They can’t take much more of this.)

Her fingers move to his waistcoat, fastening and smoothing it down his chest.

His cologne still lingers on his clothing, strong enough for her to catch a whiff of it on his neck.

It’s this that throws her over the edge, this that makes her decide to stop playing nice.

Her lips move slowly to cup his neck, feeling his pulse beneath them as she stands on her tippy toes. They move lethargically over his pulse point, a small circular scar under her roaming tongue.

(Liz is now determined to get what she wants. Meetings and work be damned.)

His eyes drift close, neck arching to give her access, begging her to feed his aching, and it’s at this point he knows he really has no chance of winning. He’s putty in her hands. That doesn’t mean he won't give her a run for her money though.

He suddenly moves away. Gulping past the smirk on his face.

Line, hook, and sinker. She knows he’s only playing hard to get, he likes to toy with her that way. She can’t say she minds. She can play too.

Red grabs his pair of cotton crew socks along with a pair of silver and black sock garters and heads for the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress, keeping his face down and out of her line of sight. Leaving her standing where he left her.

He crosses his right leg, rolling up his pant leg before stretching his sock up and over his foot. He clasps the sock garter then, the elastic contracting to grip his calf. He clips both clasps into his sock, then rolls his pant leg back down. Switching feet to start the process again, prompting Liz to action.

She slides behind him, the fabric of his suit moving with each action he takes.

Red tries his best to seem as though he’s ignoring her, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Liz rests her lips on the top of his shoulder, hands moving around the front to find purchase to spread out on his hips, before she begins moving her mouth along the hem of his waistcoat. Gliding past his collar to the base of his neck, before moving up and along the side of it. She moves up and along his hairline, his hair delightfully prodding and tickling her lips. She gives open-mouthed kisses to the back of his ear, before nipping and tugging at his ear lobe.

Red had been proud of himself for sticking it out this long, keeping painfully quiet throughout all her ministrations, but when she’s breathing in his ear, and nipping at his skin he’s suddenly no longer able to keep the sound of his shaking breath quiet.

She picks up on this, and stops immediately. Smiling mischievously from ear to ear. She slides out from behind him, grabbing his shoes before dropping to her knees in front of him.

She gently palms his foot, sliding his black oxfords on. Well aware of the fact that he can see straight down her baggy new shirt from his vantage point.

She ties both shoes, then pulls him to a stand by his collar, leaving him to stand on shaky knees as she pulls his grey suit-coat on him.

She stands in front of him now, remaining still despite every fiber in her screaming to reach out and claim him once again.

He’s fully clothed, his armor securely fastened to go do what he does best. Take on the world.

She, on the other hand, is almost fully naked, the drenching shirt rippling in the draft currently crossing his bedroom. (Their bedroom.)

She smooths down his waistcoat one last time, hands lingering before she looks up at his eyes again, both blue and green overrun by black and aching need, before they move at the same time. She grabs his tie and yanks him to her, untucking it from his waistcoat and using it to her full advantage.

Meanwhile he grabs her waist and thrusts her closer, hands fluttering against bare skin and lace. Their lips meet and lock, sliding and pleasing their way to that much needed balance. She backs him into the bed, his knees buckling quite willingly as she lays him down.

She breaks away panting.

Kneeling in front of him again to undo all the useless dressing she just completed. Not completely useless, she reminds herself, finding that she is indeed enjoying ripping off his fine suits and clothing once again. She gets to his sock garters, fumbling to unclasp and peel them off with his socks, before he grabs his phone. With a bit-lip and closed eyes he calls Dembe explaining that he will need Dembe to go to their contact to drop off the necessary information in his stead. Dembe obliges without hesitation, not even wanting to know the reason for Red's absence as he hears a barely audible moan escape Red across the phone as Lizzie shucks off Raymonds pants and traces her lips up his inner thigh. Red closes the phone and tosses it, Lizzie giving a giggle.

“And to think of all that time we could have spent enjoying ourselves instead of you trying to leave. A fruitless venture I might add.”

Red gives a chuckle himself. Suddenly stopping Liz mid kiss and flipping her.

Her back landing gently on the mattress where he previously was.

“Sorry darling. Allow me to make it up to you.”

#talexistime #my fic #ace of Spaders prompt #sock garters #raymond reddington #the blacklist #lizzington #elizabeth keen #elizabeth keen and raymond reddington

[strawberriestyles]

Watermelon Sugar (High)

Your relationship with Harry is fairly new, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t use a little extra flavor.

Word count: 4.3k

Author’s note: Here’s my piece for @hsogolden‘s Fine Line Fic Challenge!! I had this idea almost immediately after I heard the song for the first time and then Brianne posted the challenge and it just worked out SO perfectly.  I know it’s been quite some time since I’ve posted a one shot. I hope y’all like this. Please, forgive me and let me know what you think!! Xx

For the first time this year, snow has begun to blanket the ground. It’s pretty as it falls, but it’s turned into slush on the roads and the cold has frozen patches of slick ice at the edges of intersections. Instead of the typical twenty minutes it takes you to get home from work, you were on the streets for nearly an hour, narrowly avoiding collisions.

The heat of your apartment is a relief as you rush through the doorway, a package clutched in your arms, toeing off your boots at the edge of the rug. Already, it’s grown dark outside, and the front hall is unnavigable without any lights on. You stumble over a discarded bag as you flip a switch with your elbow. With this newfound light, you dump your things on the bench directly across from the front door and carry the box you found outside, addressed to you, down the hall and into the kitchen.

You reach into the kitchen drawer beside the sink and pull out a pair of scissors, using one of the blades to slice into the tape running the length of the box. Then you drop the shears on the counter and peel back the cardboard flaps. There are layers of baby pink tissue paper cushioning the contents of the package and it crinkles between your fingers as you dig beneath it.

If anyone else was around, you would have to hide your face. There, at the bottom of the box, wrapped in transparent plastic, are three pairs of sheer panties, a glittery black mesh bra, and a lingerie set complete with garters and clips and elastic straps. You’d forgotten about the order you placed nearly two months ago at a party your friend threw. You hadn’t even been inclined to purchase anything, but the pressure you felt to support the hostess had forced you to cave.

You set the plastic-wrapped garments on the counter and drop the box onto the kitchen floor, but something rattles around in its depths. Tissue paper tears as you squat down to slide your hand along the bottom cardboard panel. A smaller, glossy box is hiding in the corner. When you pull it from beneath the tissue paper, it looks like the packaging for a tube of lipstick. The box is hot pink, almost red, with bright green script that reads High, and in smaller letters above the word, Watermelon Sugar.

It takes a few flips of the box for you to realize that it’s a lubricant. You are completely sure that you did not order this. So sure that you’re ready to toss it in the trash or send it right back to the return address. You have the box hanging over the garbage before you remember.

A free sample. The consultant has said something about receiving a free sample when you spent a certain amount. But this? A fruit-flavored lube? You’re not sure about this.

After a moment of hesitation, you close the trash can and begin to peel back the tiny cardboard flaps at one end of the box. You pull out a clear plastic tube filled with pink gel, a pump on one end. Silver lettering sparkles in the kitchen light.

What are you to do with this?

Physically, of course, you understand its purpose. But the idea of it makes your skin hot, even with the chilling press of winter upon your apartment’s windows. After all, your relationship is new and fresh. It’s too early for this.

Harry.

The thought jolts you from your train of consciousness. He’s supposed to be coming over for takeout and a movie tonight. When you glance at the clock and see that it’s already past the time you agreed upon, you tense. Perhaps he’s been slowed by the slick roads the same way you were.

Then there’s a soft knock upon the door. You hear it sliding across the rug in the entryway and Harry’s, “Hey, love! ‘S me.”

You panic as the door closes. Harry is stamping snow off of his boots. You rush back across the kitchen and begin stuffing plastic-wrapped underwear back into the box on the floor, covering it in shreds of pink tissue paper, burying your bottle of watermelon-flavored lube at the bottom.

“Whatcha got there?” Harry asks as he rounds the corner from the hallway.

Your back is turned to him and your fingers fumble with the flaps of the box as you shut it. Air spills from your lips in relief.

“It’s—um—a Christmas present,” you rush, spinning around with the box propped in the crooks of your elbows.

Harry peers at you from beneath locks of snow-dampened hair. There are still clumps of ice stuck to the ends by one temple. He has his hands tucked into the front pocket of his green hoodie and his toes wiggle against the floorboards from within thick woolen socks. You’re sure you look frazzled by comparison.

“For me?” he ponders, eyes lighting up as his face stretches into a delighted grin. “Can I take a peek?”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s then, when you’ve reeled in your utter panic and allowed your gaze to drift across the kitchen, that you find your mistake. The lubricant package—bright pink and glossy and obnoxious—is still standing on the countertop above the trash. Light glares off of its surface. You try to keep your demeanor as calm as possible.

“Just one little look? Like, one second. An’ then yeh can cover my eyes.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yeh’re sure?”

You’re creeping sideways across the kitchen, your eyes now trained on Harry, with his alarmingly mischievous smirk. He’s following you and his strides are larger than yours, even if you weren’t shuffling.

“Please, just—”

“Because I don’ like surprises, love.”

You’re there, sliding the larger box into a single arm and reaching behind you blindly with the other hand. But Harry is right in front of you, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your hairline, his hand snaking over the countertop. You spit out a sharp protest, but he has the lubricant package balanced between his fingers and he’s already across the kitchen, leaning against the sink, tilting the box to read it in the sparse light.

“Watermelon sugar?”

Your skin feels hot and clammy and your feet have been glued to the floorboards. There’s a furrow in his brow as his eyes scan the text, and then you watch as his expression shifts, as his eyes widen ever so slightly, as his jaw ticks.

“It’s not a Christmas present,” you mutter, dry-throated. “It’s a sample. It came with an order.”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you and then back to the pink box. His thumb traces the embossed words along its surface.

“What did yeh order, then?”

If you could be swallowed up by the earth, this would be the moment for it. You did not order any of the items you’re holding for Harry, or even with Harry in mind. You had only been on a single date with him at that point, and not a very promising one. He’d spilled red wine all over your new sweater and scratched the corner of your car trying to back out of your apartment complex’s parking lot. It’s incredible to see how your dynamic has shifted. But your sex life is even newer than your relationship.

You clear your throat and press your lips together. “Uh, just underwear.”

Harry finally looks at you, and his face seems brighter, though there’s not even a hint of a smile playing at his mouth. “‘S in there?”

You nod faintly, and he tosses the carton he’s holding across the counter, where it tumbles to a stop beside the stove.

“Let’s see.”

“Harry...” Your arms tighten instinctually around the box.

“I mean, yeh don’ have to, of course. But I’d love if yeh showed me.”

“Just quick?”

His smirk finally returns, though his eyes have darkened and his hands have curled themselves around the edge of the sink. The light above the window casts his face in shadowed shapes.

“Would prefer if I could see ‘em on yeh.”

“And if I don’t wanna put them on?”

“Fair enough.” He studies your face and then frowns. “Am I pushin’ yeh? Don’ mean to.”

“No, no.” Your teeth dig into your bottom lip with bruising force. “I just—” Your eyes fall, dancing around his gaze.

“If yeh’re not comfortable with it, tha’s fine, love.” Harry pads across the space between you. He looks down at the box you’re still holding and nods toward the countertop, prompting you to set it down. Then one of his palms is curved around your jaw and his nose is bumping yours. What little air you had to breathe is stolen by him.

“Should let yeh know, though,” he continues, thumb stroking your cheek where your skin burns against his touch, “that ‘m already half-hard.”

You’re still in your thick coat and the heat of your body is trapped, broiling you until you feel that your flesh might peel right off the bone. Harry must be able to feel it because his fingers tickle down your neck until he can pull at your buttons. His face withdraws from yours and you’re chasing it, the terrible proximity of his lips. He chuckles.

“If yeh don’ wanna put the panties on, no problem.”

You’re reaching for him again and this time he relents, fitting his mouth to yours while he tugs your jacket down your arms. There’s still a fresh humming in your veins whenever he kisses you, as if it’s the first time. The thought of him wanting this as much as you do leaves you pumping with adrenaline.

“We’re tryin’ out that watermelon stuff, though,” he mutters against your tingling lips. His fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt, curling against your hips. “So we’ll just get yeh completely naked, yeah? No underwear involved.”

In another moment, your shirt lies on the floor with your coat and your pants are halfway down your thighs. The warmth you felt within the confines of your clothes evaporates as if it were never there. Harry lifts you up onto the edge of the counter, sponging wet kisses along your chest, wiggling your pants over the bend of your knees. Your hands slip under the back of his hoodie and he flinches when your cold fingertips meet his spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Harry reaches back to tug his hoodie over his head, mussing his hair and riding up the shirt he has on underneath. He scoffs at your apology and allows you to peel his t-shirt off.

“‘S okay. I’ll warm yeh right up.”

His words ring true as he takes your hands in his, twining your fingers together, and closes his lips around your collarbone. His hot breath unfurls against your skin and leaves you shuddering. Your knuckles knock against the countertop.

“Better?” he murmurs against the base of your throat before sliding his mouth up along the underside of your jaw. His lips find yours again and his tongue flicks at the careless part of them.

“Yes,” you manage to muster. And you are warmer. The blood surging through your body might as well be some molten metal, liquid silver sloshing around your insides.

“Get this off then, yeah?” His fingers slip from yours and deftly unclip your bra. The straps fall down your arms and Harry lets it tumble to his feet, his attention focused solely on the way your nipples have already begun to pebble against the chill air. “Look so pretty.”

You let out a labored breath as he traces one of your nipples with his tongue. Your fingers catch in the loose curls at the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. The sound of his lips popping from your skin distracts you from his hands, wiggling your panties beneath your bottom, dropping them to the floor to rest beside your discarded bra.

“Wanna get it out for me, love?” he mutters against your chest, teeth grazing the curve of one breast and leaving chills in their wake.

“What?” you breathe.

“The lube, baby. Where’s the lube?” He lifts his eyes so he can gaze up at you, peppering just a few more kisses to your chest. You don’t notice him pulling the chunky rings off his fingers until you hear them clinking together into the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh.” Your hands are clumsy as you open up the box beside you, rifling through the tissue paper to find the little plastic bottle. Harry’s palms trail up your thighs and you shiver so violently that you fumble the bottle twice before you’re able to extract it from the wrappings.

“Thank you.” He takes the bottle from your hand and pops the cap off the pump, tossing it noisily across the counter. He squirts a generous amount of glimmering pink, translucent gel onto the fingers of his right hand, where the prints of his rings still glow just above his knuckles. His thumb spreads the gel along his digits and he rubs it back and forth to warm it against his skin.

“Yeh ready?” he asks, crooking your knee up with his clean hand and leaning forward to sponge kisses up the inside of your thigh. For a moment you forget that his question requires a response. You forget that you require breaths.

“Love,” he prompts, pausing at the middle of your thigh and settling his cheek against your skin. You can hear the lubricant as it shifts between his fingers. His eyes find yours.

“Yes,” you answer finally. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Harry hums. He turns to press a final kiss to your leg and then straightens up. With a gentle bump of his nose to yours, he slides his middle finger inside you. Even despite his effort to warm it, the lube isn’t nearly up to temperature. Your fingers clamp onto his shoulder, legs twitching at the chill of his touch, body tensing.

“‘M sorry, baby,” Harry mutters, pecking your chin. “Christ, yeh’re fuckin’ warm.” His other hand kneads at your propped up thigh as he begins to pump his finger into you. The sound it makes brings an uncomfortable heat to your face, but Harry only sighs into your burning cheek. Your eyes are drawn to the shift of his forearm, the rippling of the corded muscles just beneath his skin, under his eagle tattoo.

“I want another,” you whisper into his ear. You can smell his freshly washed hair, sweet and fruity beneath the sharp musk of his cologne. The hand you’ve been using to support yourself on the countertop combs through his soft curls and then folds them between your fingers.

Harry grunts, nipping at the skin just behind your jaw, just under your ear. He wiggles a second finger past your entrance and this time the cold is less of a shock. Instead, you’re dazed by the way he separates the two fingers apart, spreading you open, and then tips them up toward your belly. You release a staggered moan and lick at the dry flesh of your parted lips. It's as if he’s watched your tongue move. Harry draws back from your neck and finds your mouth, continuing to push his fingers into you while he kisses you until your lips are tingling and swollen and feel as though they could never be dry again.

By the time Harry slides a third finger into you, the countertop has become slick. You cling to him and your breath hitches when he stretches you open again, rubbing his thumb over your clit. A curse slips out under your breath. The smug look Harry gives you is almost too much.

“Gonna let me get a taste, then?” he asks, pressing his hand against your hip to keep you from creeping toward the edge of the counter. “’S flavored, yeah? Meant to be eaten. Want me to taste it?"

You open your mouth to answer and choke on the words. Harry’s fingers are buried to the hilts, his palm flat against your clit, a cocky lilt to his mouth. “Sorry, love. Didn’ catch that."

You want to push him away, but your hands tug at him in spite of his teasing. You resort to a vexed nod. Harry wastes no time. He draws his fingers free, leaving you achingly empty, dripping lubricant, and sinks to his knees.

His movements displace air and you catch the faint, tart scent of fruit, like flavored candy. It makes your mouth water but you barely have time to process it before Harry’s sticky hand finds the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he’s pressing his lips to the skin just above your pubic bone.

There’s no teasing like you suspected. You wait for another wandering kiss and instead you feel Harry’s tongue dip between your folds, licking up the uncomfortable wetness that’s begun to collect there. His nose flattens against your skin.

“Oh, fuck,” you stutter out when he moans, lip vibrating against your clit. Your hands clamp onto the edge of the counter, the pressure biting your fingers.

Harry’s clean hand loops around to the bottom of your spine, yanking you forward until you’re dangling precariously, held in place by nothing but his face and his shoulders, digging into your legs. You gasp and then choke on air when he gives your clit a rough pull.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs when he separates for a breath. Your hazy eyes lower to look at him, and in the dim light from above the sink you find his mouth glimmering and wet. “Could lick yeh clean an’ still want more.”

You let out a weak, whimpering huff of acknowledgement, but he’s burying his tongue deep in your pussy before you’ve even finished. One of your hands stumbles across the counter to find a point of balance behind you and the other grasps at the topmost tendrils of Harry’s curls, knuckles knocking against his scalp. As if you could be wetter, you feel his spit dribbling down to pool underneath you while he licks and sucks and bites at you, obscene sounds echoing through the empty rooms of your flat.

The next moan you let out is so broken that if anyone heard it without context they wouldn’t be able to place it, or to even confidently state that the sound was made by a person. Harry slurps at you, ravenous still, his eyes screwed shut and a focused crease set deep between his brows. The palm you’re using for support is slick with sweat and when it starts to slip, the tug you give his hair releases a heavy grunt from his full mouth. He shifts beneath you, lubed fingers peeling from your thigh and pressing against your abdomen. When you can decipher his movements and realize that he’s pressing himself up against the cabinets, hips rutting in a disjointed, desperate pattern, you come so hard you nearly tumble right off the counter.

Harry is on his feet to catch you, tipping you onto your back and shimmying his mouth back between your legs to work you through your high. Your nails bite into his shoulder blades, belly convulsing until you’re spent. You push defeatedly at his head until he relents with a final kiss to your sensitive clit.

“So fuckin’ good,” Harry hums as he laces his clean fingers with yours. Your chest heaves and your head tips to the side. He kisses your tummy, just under the end of your ribcage. “Wanna fuck yeh but I’d never last, love. ‘M sorry.”

You shake your head, dazed, squeezing his hand. You don’t think you’d be able to handle it, anyway, and from the way he was grinding against your kitchen cabinets, you’re sure he’s right.

“Yeh wanna taste it, baby?” Harry asks. "So sweet.” He taps your mouth with a fingertip so sticky it pulls at your skin. You part your lips, still vibrating with the effects of your orgasm, and he dips his middle finger past them, the same finger he began this mess with. As much as you’ve been smelling candy, this tastes like a bowl of fresh fruit, like citrus and strawberries and a thick slice of juicy watermelon, and you understand Harry’s greedy tongue at once. It’s like a frozen smoothie in the suffocating heat of the tropics. You lick from his knuckle to his fingertip and then suck on the digit until your mouth is full of the sugared taste.

Harry groans. “So fuckin’ sexy, yeh know that?” He kisses the valley between your breasts, and his chin still feels sticky.

“Wanna taste it on you,” you mumble around his finger. He pulls it from your mouth and blinks up at you.

“What?”

A fresh wave of heat washes over your skin, but you nod, lifting yourself up onto an elbow. “Let me lick it off you, Harry.”

His head drops forward, suddenly too heavy for his neck, and he’s pulling you off the countertop, gathering you in his arms to press a feverish kiss to your lips. You crumple to your knees when he lets you go, ripping open the button of his jeans and tugging them over his ass, followed by his briefs. He stumbles out of both and then kicks them onto your pile of clothing.

Harry’s cock is hard and bright red and leaking. You straighten up and run your thumb along the side of it, the slightest touch, but Harry huffs in blissful relief. He forgets about the lubricant for a long moment before he tastes its ghost on his lips. His hand creeps across the counter for the bottle.

“Let me,” you whisper, holding out an expectant hand. Harry drops the bottle into your palm and you pour out three pumps, rubbing it between your fingers to give him the same courtesy he gave to you.

When you set the bottle to the side and wrap your coated hand around Harry’s length, air hisses between his teeth. You smell nothing but summer and sweetness, and your thumb has barely swiped over the tip of him before your tongue follows. And this taste is somehow better, fruit mixed with the salty flavor of him. Your lips close around him and you press forward until he reaches the back of your mouth.

Harry moans, deep and gravelly, and his closest hand grips the edge of the counter the same way yours did just a few minutes ago. His chin falls to his chest. “Taste good, baby?” he asks brokenly. “Yeh like it?”

You hum around him and he gasps, balling his free hand up into a tight fist. “No, no,” he protests. “No, just use your words for me. Tell me.”

You slide off of him grudgingly and lick at your lips, glancing up into his flushed face, his hooded eyes. “Tastes so good,” you confirm, placing your hand on the front of his thigh over the tattoo of a roaring tiger.

“Wanted to hide it from me,” he says. “Aren’ yeh glad I saw it?”

You nod and pump your hand up and down his cock, coating the area you’ve already sucked clean. Harry gulps and lets you wrap your lips back around him. This time, you take as much of him as you can handle and then begin to bob your head, letting the flavored gel glaze your tongue and fill your mouth, twisting your fist around the base of him.

“Shit,” Harry wheezes. His thumb catches on your cheek as he strokes your skin. The girth of him makes your jaw ache, but his gentle touch somehow soothes you. “Oh, fuck, yeh make me feel so fuckin’ good,” he praises. And that’s enough for you to take another extra bit of him into your mouth, even though it brings you close to gagging.

Harry chants a string of expletives when your bobbing hastens and your fist tightens around him in a quick squeeze. You’ve licked almost his entire dick clean. You remove your fingers in an effort to swallow even more of him, steadying yourself by gripping onto both of his sides.

Harry’s hand clamps around a fistful of your hair and you can feel strands sticking to his fingers, adhering to his skin. Your scalp bites as he pulls you even farther up his cock. He whimpers at the way your tongue presses at the underside of him and the sound you make as you struggle to breathe air through your nose. And then a desperate moan, almost a cry, rips from him as he finds release, lurching forward and filling your throat. You can see the muscles in his stomach spasming. Your fingers curl into his hips and your eyes tear up but you let him finish, thrusting shallowly but frantically until he’s emptied himself onto your tongue.

You suckle at the tip of his sensitive cock as he pulls out from your mouth and releases your hair. A stray tear drips down your cheek and you cough, come dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin.

“Fuck, sorry,” Harry rushes, panting above you. “‘M so sorry.”

You shake your head quickly and catch the liquid leaking from your lips with your sticky fingers and sucking it from your fingers. Harry sighs weakly above you as he watches. When you look up, you find his chest red and splotchy, his cheeks high with color.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, and you’re almost embarrassed at the feebleness of your voice.

Harry crouches down in front of you and brings your mouth to his. You’re a messy tangle of lips and tongues and hair, sticky fingers and liquids. He huffs a sickly sweet breath across your chin and gives you one more brief kiss before he pulls away. His eyes wander across the kitchen, from the sole light above the sink to the scattered clothes to the shining, filthy counter, to the bottle laying beside your knee. He smirks. There’s got to be less than a couple pumps of gel left.

“Think we’re gonna need to make another order, yeah?" 

#FineLineFicChallenge #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble

[babbushka]

Ain’t Too Bad

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

3k ; N S F W (warnings for birthday sex, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial,  d/s undertones, spit as lube, come as lube, crying during sex, dirty talk, begging, name-calling, slight voyeurism) 

Also available on AO3! 

[part of the Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet Prompt series, letters E&F]

He comes through the door, same as he always does after work. Puts his key in the dish by the door, steps out of his cowboy boots, coat up on the hook. He closes the door gently, because it’s late, only one light left on in the foyer so he can see. He’s in a bit of a bad mood, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. He comes home with a scowl nine times out of ten. He pours himself something from the kitchen, downs it in three big gulps. He’s thirsty still, but that’s alright. He’s got a tall drink of water waiting for him upstairs.

You stayed up to wait for him, same as you always do on late nights like this. Change into something a little more comfortable, a little more racy; nothing but a pair of lacy underwear and stockings clipped to garters. Candles lit in the bedroom, record playing softly to keep you company, hands between your legs to keep you even better company.

Flip makes his way up the staircase, familiar tread of his socked feet on the squeaky floor-board as he moves towards the bedroom. You gasp a little louder, rub your calves together a little faster, get yourself ready for him as he’s coming up to meet you.

Normally you meet him, you’re by the door, ready to pounce with a hug and a kiss.

But this, this isn’t a normal night, this is his birthday.

And you think that he deserves a little extra sugar for it.  

Flip leans against the doorframe of the bedroom, one ankle crossed over the other as he watches you get yourself off, as he smokes his cigarette. He was always so sexy with that damn cigarette, you couldn’t get enough of it. You never wanted to get enough, always wanted more.

“Heellloo,” Flip’s eyebrow twitches as his big muscular arms cross over his chest. “Well aren’t you pretty.”

He looks you over, appraises you. He knows he’s in for a treat tonight, not that he isn’t every night. Every night is something special with you, every night has him hot and fucking bothered in his jeans. But this, this is something extra for him, this is for him.

“You think so?” You breathe out, knowing you must be quite the sight, all spread out, draped across the bed on top of the covers.

You’re laying sideways, so he can’t even really see your pussy or anything, not yet. But that was part of the fun, the not seeing. With your hand in your panties he couldn’t see your pussy even if you were spread eagle for him, even if his face was shoved right up against the lace. Fuck, he’s hard just thinking about that, wanting to bet between your legs. He watches your fingers move into obscurity, and he gulps.

It always got him riled up, that mystery. He’s riled up now.

“Yeah,” He licks his lips, “I do.”

“Why don’t you come in and have a taste?” You moan, the slide of your fingers under your panties spurring him on, making him shift in his jeans, making him hard. You can see it, how hard he is. Fuck he’s big, big all over, but big especially there. You gasp out, “If you’re good, I’ll let you have a little bit more.”

“Get on your back, properly.” He says, stalking forward then.

He blows smoke around, and you revel in it as you roll yourself off your side, let your legs fall apart. The garters and stockings shimmy a little from the movement, rustle. He wants the stockings off, the panties off. But not the garters. Those can stay.

Flip stands at the foot of the bed, rock hard in his jeans as he’s already working on pulling his clothes off. He’s slow about it, each button taking its time, the zipper loud in the quiet of the room.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy.” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep deep deep breath, bare tits pushing out.

“Don’t be a brat,” He reaches out with one hand to pinch your nipple, to stiffen it and make you moan as you finger yourself slowly, the pads of your fingers circling your clit, getting yourself so wet for him. Flip’s eyes are dark when he says, “Or else I’ll have to punish you, and that’d be a real shame.”

“Would it?” You challenge, before yelping out with pleasure as he shucks his jeans off and climbs onto the bed dipping the mattress, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, rubbing the soaked lace of your panties.

“Watch it ketsl.” He replies, and you grin.

“Kiss me, my lips are lonely.” You pull your hands away from your body and reach out to him with them, fingers slick and sticky, burning hot from being buried in your cunt.

“Spoiled.” Flip grins right back, a smile that he smears against your mouth, taking a gulp of you, taking you apart with his tongue.

You make out like that for a little while, and he climbs on top of you fully. Unclipping the garters he tears away the panties, lets the scrap of fabric roll off the side of the bed. He leans back enough to grab a fistful of the sheer stocking and tug them off your legs one at a time, until you’re almost as naked as him.

He’s in his birthday suit right and proper, his proud cock jutting against the crease where your thigh meets your pussy, and it’s delicious, that friction. He moans into your mouth as he grinds his hips there, knowing he’s so close to your cunt but still so far. Hot pre-come drools from the head of his cock and he only uses it to slick himself up, groans some more.

“Ketsl, princess, I gotta have you.” He says after a minute, after you’re both so kiss-drunk that you can barely open your eyes, all your nerves on fire.

“Which way do you want me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, throat already thick.

“However you’d like.” He kisses your cheek, your nose, your neck, but you laugh and shake your head. He was so sweet, so caring, always wanting to do what you wanted, but that wasn’t the point of tonight.

“No no, you pick.” You insist. It’s his birthday, his special day, or evening rather. “I don’t care what you do as long as it’s me -- god knows I’m gonna love it no matter what.”

“Don’t bring him into this.” Flip teases in that deadpan way of his, and you want to tease him back but suddenly he’s got his hands all over you, he’s got you pulled across the mattress, he’s got you positioned the way he wants.

You don’t know what it’s called for real, but it always reminds you of a pretzel, the way you and Flip twine yourselves together. Pretzel dip maybe you could call it, if you’re being crude. He’s got you up on your back, but not really. You’re propped up onto one side, leaning on your elbow.

Flip lifts the leg opposite your elbow and tucks it around his hip, fits himself in the space between your legs and slides home in one hard thrust.

“Flip!” You gasp out, head already falling backwards, your hair tickling the back of your neck.

It’s his favorite position, the pretzel. You don’t know how it all works out, but there’s something about it that lets him get deep, that lets him shove himself so far into you that you’re sure you can feel it bumping against your ribs, your throat.

It’s almost like when he fucks you from behind, but this way he can keep eye contact. He loves looking at you, gets antsy when he can’t. It’s sweet, but more than that it’s so fucking sexy, and you’re already moaning as his cock spears into you, hips already smacking into yours.

“Fuck, wait, I need a pillow or something – oh!” You gasp around a moan as he rolls his hips hard, as he grinds himself into you, filling your cunt up right to the very brim.

Above you, he’s already lost in his own pleasure, teeth digging into his lower lip as he fucks you. His muscles flex and ripple, and it’s such a handsome sight that you hiccup out a moan as he grips your thigh, keeps your leg up, keeps that angle going as he drives into you deep.

“Shit ketsl, oh shit,” He’s already unraveling in between your moans, loud and hot and heavy, “Baby this pussy’s so tight.”

It’s blazing hot, the way his cock pushes into you, how it stuffs you full, how your walls clench around him, wanting him to stay in there and never leave. He looks angry almost, with the way his brows are pinched in and his chest is all splotchy. You can see the veins in his hands, in his neck, in his forearm bulging, and it makes your pussy drip, because you know they’re bulging for you.

“Just for you – all yours, I’m yours, oh fuck right there right there right there -- !” You encourage him as he bounces you on the mattress, as the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. You’re dizzy in the best way, body warm and tingling from the inside out.

“Are you my present? You my good whore? Baby, oh ketsl,” Flip grunts, slaps the flesh of the thigh he’s got a death grip on, that thigh that’s his only anchor to the world, only anchor to reality as he doubles over and fucks you fucks you fucks you into the mattress.

“Yesyesyes I’m – ah – Flip oh,” Your eyes fly open and your toes curl and your back arches up up up for him when he presses his thumb hard to your clit, searches for your gspot like this. It’s a little harder to find with this angle, but he looks, and while he does you blink away hot tears from how good you feel, nowhere for the pleasure to go aside from ripping out of your throat and spilling onto your cheeks. “Your cock’s so fucking big!”

“Say it again.” Flip orders, and you moan from the authoritative tone in his voice as he makes you writhe underneath him.

“Your cock’s so big!” You repeat, louder this time, so loud that the sound of it is fuzzy in your ears as your brain rattles around in your skull. “Fuck me with it, make me come on your cock – ”

“No, you have to ask me to come, okay?” He interrupts, making your cunt gush anyway, making your legs tremble, your tits heave. You cry cry cry out an orgasm, but Flip pretends it doesn’t happen, he keeps fucking you hard through it. “You have to ask. Don’t come until I tell you.”

“Okay – oh fuck, okay!” You babble, not really able to string together a sentence as the brutal pace of his hips kept ramming into you. You try to get a grip but your whole body sings, you’re melting under him, going pliant and loose, limp. You shudder through an illegal orgasm, but he’s not done, not at all, so you ask him to fuck you, “Harder?”

Flip clenches his jaw and slows himself down, savoring the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. He takes his time railing you hard and deep. He’s covered in a beautiful red flush that you can’t even see because your eyelids are so heavy, and all you can do is hiccup out sobs of pleasure.

This position was so good, too good almost, but your arm was starting to hurt from being the only support of your body, and after your first orgasm you’re made of jelly. He doesn’t stop when you lay yourself flat on the mattress, he only grabs a tighter hold of your thighs, keeps you pulled thrust against his hips.

Your toes flex and curl on their own as you twist and shudder on the mattress, and he’s no better. He’s got spit clinging to his chin from the way it flies out of his mouth as he fucks you, the ends of his hair are sweaty and droplets fly onto your bodies. His stomach tenses and flutters, and his hips begin to snap erratically into you.

He adjusts you a little so that he can bend you almost in half, and you go willingly, happily, tears staining the pillow that you kiss, make out with since his lips are so far away. You bite and suck on the cotton pillowcase and it muffles your moans a little, drives him crazy.

“Flip, honey I’m, oh! Flip please, I’m so close.” You cry cry cry on his cock, cry as you want to come again, again already. You’re greedy, you’re spoiled, you want it, you want him to give it to you.

“No, no not yet, hold on for me ketsl, hold on a little longer.” He shakes his head, bends you around his body, moves with you when you move.

The drag of his cock in your cunt is so slippery, all your come and slick mixing with his sweat and spit where he drools onto your pussy. He can’t stop looking at it, watching his cock disappear into you, watching your pussy swallow him whole. He wishes he had more hands, wishes he could touch you and hold you all over all at the same time, but he can’t, he just can’t, so he fucks you hard, makes his cock touch you inside and out.

“Phil please, please honey, let me come, I’ll do anything, I’ll – I’ll – ” You beg, and that’s a dirty move because you know he loves the sound of you begging, he comes from it, and you know that if he comes you can come too, and fuck you want to come again.

“Holy shit,” He moans loud, rolls his hips against yours, grinds his pelvis down onto your pussy, bending himself over you so he can kiss and suck at your nipples, so he can bite you, mark you up, bruise you with his teeth tongue lips, “No dice, not yet, not until I say.”

“I can’t – I can’t,” You hiccup, but he shakes his head.

“Yeah you can, oh fuck,” You know he’s close, you can tell. You can tell with the way he’s starting to breathe too hard, his own nipples stiff little peaks that you’d love to tweak real hard. You can tell with the way his hips are losing their rhythm, how he’s reduced down to desperate pleas of his own, “Just a little longer ketsl.”

“Phil please!” You shout, and then he’s growling dark in your ear, and your bodies are in perfect harmony when they rise up up up in pleasure, blood pounding in your ears, bodies on fire and singing songs of lust and love.

“Okayokayokay now, fuck!” He shouts as his hips come to a halting stop.

You give yourselves over to the blissful release of orgasm, jolting against one another, trembling and shivering and gasping for breaths that you steal from each other’s mouths. He comes in you so much that you swear you can taste the salty tang of it on your tongue, you can feel it spreading through you, filling all the empty spaces in your bones, filling you with his love.

It takes a long time to come back down to earth, but when you do, you sigh and laugh and moan out just from the sheer feeling of him still being inside you. He’ll pull out in a minute, you know, but the two of you go crashing down onto your sides, too tired to support your bodies anymore.

In the quiet of the aftermath, as pleasure skims over your skin and makes the hair on your arms stand up, he smooths his hand over your calves, lightly plucks at the straps of your garter. You smile lazily dreamily blissfully at him, both your heads on one pillow, noses so close together that they’re rubbing.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Detective.” You whisper, voice wrecked from all the moaning.

“Oy, do you have to remind me?” He grumbles softly, before licking his lips and claiming a chaste kiss, another, another, another.

“Yup. You know why?” You mumble against his lips as your arms weakly find their way around his shoulders. His cock throbs inside you still, and you know that you’ll probably be in for another round in twenty minutes or so, but the thought is thrilling. Everything about being with Flip is thrilling, has you over the moon.

“Tell me baby.” He kisses you, only ever wanting to spend his time kissing you.

“Another year of loving and fucking you is alright in my book.” You say sincerely, softly, looking at him with nothing but adoration and finding it reflected in his handsome gaze, “More than alright, in fact.”

He blushes at that, because he always gets real sentimental when he thinks about how lucky he is to have you, how wholly and completely he loves you. He blushes but it’s too dark in the bedroom, only the slowly dripping wax candles setting a soft glow. The record has completely faded out into nothingness, the only noise out in the Colorado mountains is of the crickets and steady inhale exhale of your breathing,

“Well when you put it that way.” He says, making you chuckle, making you just tuck yourself as close as possible to him, kissing him until your lips swell up from being so bitten, until your bodies start to respond to the closeness of one another.

Because even though he has a lot of hangups about his birthday, even though he turns into a major grouch, even though he wishes he wouldn’t get so old, even though even though even though, he thinks that if he gets another year with you, well.

That ain’t too bad.

                                               ------------------

Tagging some pals :)  @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler  @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker  @goodboybensolo  @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy​ @disaster-rose​ @hazydespair​ @yosoymuyloca​ @1-800-choke-that-snoke​ @ktellmeastory​ @anongirl007​ @zimmerxman​ @okk--maaan​ @flapjacques​ @aweirdlookingtree​ @callmemania-pls​ @theold-ultraviolence​ @og-selene​ @pinkmoontribe-blog​

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman/you #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman fluff #adam driver character #adam driver #blackkklansman #my writing

[vampiresuns]

Power Couple | JC Sanlaurento x Saoirse

⚡︎ POWER COUPLE ⚡︎

1.7k words. JC Sanlaurento and Saoirse make a comeback for the prompt ‘who to see’ from @midsummer-masquerade​.

All Saoirse, Theo, Meredith and the rest of her crew belong to @apprenticealec​. Just like ‘Wouldn’t You Love to Love Her’, this is also set in the Janiverse.

You can find Sanlaurento’s outfit here, and the rest of City of Delights here.

Julianus examined the invitation —the luxurious paper and printing work— and hummed. 

“So, what you’re telling me is that Vesuvians host secret sex parties?” They asked Saoirse, who was sitting on their bed, watching Julianus sway in their place from side to side. 

“That’s a way of looking at it.”

JC snorted. “It tracks for me. What doesn’t is that Meredith knows the former Count.”

They left the invite Saoirse had given them next to Saoirse’s own as they went to sit on the quartermaster’s lap. Saoirse began telling them what they knew about Meredith’s and Lucio’s friendship, as the two of them sat unnecessarily close to each other. Saoirse liked it that way, they liked the way their Julie’s rib cage moved as they spoke, or the way their heart beated inside their chest. 

“Who got the fourth invite?” 

Saoirse’s smirk told them the answer was going to be good. “Theo.” 

Jules was already vibrating.

Vesuvia wasn’t that different from what they remembered. They had travelled to the City a handful of times when they were studying in Firent and  the plague was no longer a risk. Julianus liked it — lively and cosmopolitan, the atmosphere vibrated with magic, making it seem like anything would happen. 

As soon as they reached port, Elizabeth and Tariq dragged Meredith their own way, Drew walking calmly behind them. That left Julianus, Saoirse and Theo to go search for their outfits on their own. They walked the streets together, Jules holding Saoirse’s hand while they animatedly talked with Theo about fashion, textures and the like, sharing jokes as they browsed through the Red Market. 

When they ran into Meredith, Julianus couldn’t help but to tease Theo a little bit. Theo replied with some teasing of his own, telling his friend he was sure Saoirse and them wouldn’t even make it out of their room at the party. 

“Let’s see,” Jules said, that little smile on their face that no one in the crew knew if Saoirse had copied from them, or them from Saoirse. 

They didn’t have much more time to stroll around the City after they got their outfits. Not wanting to be late, they made their way to the Palace, meeting with Meredith on the door. While Meredith and Theo had separate rooms, Saoirse and Jules had one together, as it was customary for couples who didn’t request otherwise. They didn’t remember saying anything about it, but the pink-haired servant that was guiding them through the Palace said one could tell. 

Jules felt Saoirse short next to them, quickly followed by their arm around their back. 

They wanted to ask the name of the servant, to thank her, but she was gone before they could say anything as soon as they were shown their room. Julianus soon forgot about it anyway, as Saoirse pressed against them from behind.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were impatient.”

“How about ‘curious’? It’s hard not to be when you have been very insisting about me not spying on your outfit. Despite you helping me choose mine.” 

“You’ll have to tame that horse because I want to shower before I begin getting ready.” 

Saoirse just made a deadpan comment about their woes, that Jules fully knew they didn’t mean. Saoirse was a patient person (because Saoirse was a person, eldritch existence aside), and Saoirse liked to indulge whatever little ritual Julianus came up with in situ. They found them entertaining, and they could see why their partner liked to come up with little explanations and decorative reasons for certain things.

They just were fun to follow. Not that Saoirse ever expected to think that, but that was their Julie. 

Saoirse asked if they were allowed to have a bath with them, and they were, though of course it ended up being half bath, half make out session. Yet, the moment they began getting ready once they were out of it, Julianus shooed them out of the bathroom with a gentle push. 

“You’ll get many rewards for your compliance, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I’m the one getting the rewards tonight? I thought you liked being the one getting them.”

“For being a void with eyes and I being the horny human, you’re absolutely incorregible.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do,” they said, asking Saoirse to lean down to kiss their lips.

Saoirse kissed them back before going to get ready themselves, looking around their room when they were ready, and seeing how soft the bed was. It was very, to their discovery. Julie was going to like it, they thought — it had not gone past them that while they were not even close to Theo’s original royal status, or Elizabeth’s for that matter, they had come from a very economically comfortable background. To begin with, they were a lawyer who had studied in Firent. That said something on itself. 

While their Julie wasn’t conceited in the slightest and had separated their choices from those of their family, out of what Saoirse knew and could tell from having observed humans for so long, there were some things that, like Theo, they couldn’t shake off. Luxurious bedding was one of them: Julie always raided rich people’s quarters for certain possessions and home making elements were one of them. Saoirse’s bed in the ship had never looked nor felt plusher. 

Lying back on the bed, waiting, they began making conversation with them. They talked about Vesuvia, about Theo and Meredith, and the party itself. Julianus revealed they didn’t know if they would come to something like this otherwise. 

“I don’t think this is the kind of party to come alone, or at least I wouldn’t attend alone. I don’t mind doing things on my own, but again, this isn’t it.”

“I’m sure there’s going to be a lot of people looking for other people.”

“Well, it is a sex party,” they said, their voice carrying into the bedroom from the bath, “I just have a bit of trouble thinking about the hypothetical.”

Julianus did not know how the conversation turned from there to if they’d be interested in someone else, if they weren’t a thing. They couldn’t help trying to figure out why Saoirse was asking, even though they knew Saoirse was asking simply because that’s how they explored things they didn’t quite understand. Asking.

“I think I’m answer is not going to be as interesting as you think it will be. Though I honestly do not know what you’re expecting— the thing is I just can’t picture myself with anyone else other than you now? I know you wouldn’t care if I let you know I wanted another partner or to sleep with someone else, but unless I had a specific itch, I just… don’t see it.

“Like, okay maybe if Meredith wasn’t my boss, but Theo has the right of way there because he is my friend and I want him to be happy, Tariq is very handsome; If you make me think of other ships Jade and Louis are very pleasant to the eye, and maybe in another life I would flirt with them. Maybe in this one too as a joke, and to piss Rodrigo off. Even then they’re all very nice hypotheticals I care little for when I have you right here.

“Your all the private devotion I will ever need.”

They came out of the bathroom. They had their hair in waves, two red flowers pinned to the side of their head. Julianus was wearing a black bustier styled corselette, it had garter straps hooked to black thigh high socks, and was wearing black boots that went almost as high up as the socks. They were fitting into each arm a pair of above the elbow, black gloves. 

They looked stunning. They always did. It wasn’t the outfit that made Saoirse look at them like that.

“Mo grá?”

“Aside from the Queen, I don’t think anyone has ever chosen me like that.”

Jules walked towards them, who was now sitting on the bed, and stood between their legs. They kissed their forehead. “Well, to you, to love is to protect. For me, to love is to choose, too. You’re a wonderful person to choose, Saoirse.” 

For a being as old as Saoirse, loneliness was something they had to be used to. For a being as old as Saoirse, who also spent so much time around humans, they don’t think they would ever notice what loneliness was if it wasn’t for their proximity to them. Saoirse’s hand found Julianus’ side, as their mouth pressed itself against their skin and their clothes. 

“No comments on the outfit? You look very handsome. I am most definitely the luckiest person in this Palace, sorry to Theodore.”

“You look, you look—” Saoirse didn’t know how to finish their sentence. How human of them. How odd. How misplaced. How very Saoirse. Them and Jules were both like that: misplaced. Yet right then they looked beautiful, inviting, sexy, like the sea, like freedom on Saoirse’s hair and like not a wave, but a tsunami changing their coastline forever. 

Saoirse didn’t need to finish their sentence for Jules to get it. “See, this is what Tariq means when he says you’re bound to make me mad with power.”

“You like it.”

“Oh, I do. Nothing like being loved and fucked by my favourite eldritch entity. Like I said: my own private devotion.”

Saoirse smiled at them; a kind of smile only reserved for Julianus, one that carried a different complicity than the one they had with the Pirate Queen. 

“Do you want to have a look around, or do you want to prove Theo right?”

Sanlaurento snorted. “Never. Let's go make people jealous of how good we look.”

Saoirse was happy to indulge them. Out of their room and into the party, Julianus hooked their arm around Saoirse’s. It made them stop. Looking at them with a little smirk, Saoirse crouched down to sit Julianus’ on their shoulder, turning their head to kiss their thigh. 

“Why walk when I can carry you?”

“Mad with power, and it’ll be your fault.”

“I’ll have to find something to keep you in line then.”

“Please do,” they said, catching the innuendo in Saoirse’s tone. 

#the arcana #vesuviaafterdark #city of delights #listen i just wanted to write them again #joirse #jc sanlaurento #saoirse #theo #background theodith #prefacing jc getting obliterated by the hottest eldritch void with innuendos and romance #the janiverse #it's so funny to me that while saoirse is dani's oc they give me the words #i am the favourite #it is bc of jc #midsummer masquerade

[thatesqcrush]

Play Pretend, Pt. 2

Rafael Barba x Reader. CW: ALL THE SMUT, language - NSFW! Seriously. This is pure filth y’all. WC: 2615.

Tags: @madpanda75​ @ottosuricato​ @delia26​ @dreila03​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @melsquared79​ @mommakat32​ @garturbo​ @southern-magnolia​ @niyashell​ @tropes-and-tales​ @imjustreallynosy​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife​ @sweetsummertime99​ @evee87​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @kscarlett1 @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ @zoeykaytesmom​ @differentshadesofgray​ @theenchantedgalleryofstories​ @fanficfaeriesrafaelbarbalibrary​ @amirightcounselor​ @lovesomerafipapi @xemopeachx @infiniteoddball​ - anyone else just ask. 

It felt like all eyes were on the two of you as you departed the bar. Rafael’s hand was on the small of your back as you walked first through the doorway. You turned ever so slightly towards Rafael and gave him a small smile.

 “I’ll get us a cab,” Rafael offered. He moved to step away, when you tugged on his hand, drawing him back. You stepped close to Rafael. Gazing into his eyes, you smoothed his hair and gently cupped his cheek - you reminded yourself to give him shit about shaving another day - before pulling him into a deep kiss. Rafael could taste the cherry in your mouth, as your tongues dueled. Your sucked in his bottom lip and nibbled before pulling away. Rafael was surprised at how intensely the kiss registered.

“Cab?”

 “Right, cab,” Rafael sputtered and he stepped off the curb. You reapplied your lipstick as Rafael signaled for a cab.

 Fortunately, the wait was short-lived. Rafael held the door for you, letting you enter first. Rafael began to give the address to your shared apartment, but you cut him off, providing a different address.

 Rafael looked at you in surprise. He had thought the evening would be spent at home, but clearly you had something else in mind.

 For the duration of the ride, your bodies were positioned to where they were touching or near touching. Your leg rubbed against his. At one point, you gazed out the window, your arm was extended out to the seat and Rafael’s fingertips just grazed yours ever so lightly. In that moment, Rafael didn't know he could love you more, but there, in that moment, in the darkened cab ride, he did.

 The elevator ride up to the room was just the same. Small but frequent touches and flirty glances. Your hearts were hammering in both of your chests. The two of you were nervous - but it was a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous.

 You offered Rafael to help himself to whatever was in the bar and to make himself comfortable. “Sit back, relax. I’ll be right back,” you replied, excusing yourself to the bathroom.

 The door to the bathroom shut with a click and Rafael walked around the room, giving himself a very quick tour. He walked over to the bar cart, poured himself a drink and made his way back to the couch that was in adjoining room.

 He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his own dress shirt. The door to the bathroom creaked open. Rafael was not prepared for the sight before him. His mouth went dry and a course of heat immediately flashed through him, sending all of his pumping blood, south.

 If Rafael had to describe your appearance, to him, you were dressed in pure sex. Your lingerie consisted of black lace cups with peek-a-boo details with a leather underbust band. It was as if architectural form met lace and lingerie in the cage and straps of your bra. There was a matching, high waisted garter belt with straps. The sheer tulle thong you wore had embroidered detailing. Completing the look were black thigh high stockings attached by the garter straps.

 “See something you like?” you asked innocently, as you strutted towards him.

 Rafael nodded, at a complete loss for words.

 You straddled Rafael. His hands skimmed your thighs, reveling in the feel of the hosiery beneath his fingertips. Finally, his hands settled on your hips. “Now I’m not the type of woman who sleeps on the first date –” you began.

 Rafael snorted, an implication of how your real first date with him went. Your eyes narrowed, and you gripped his chin to face you. “Shhh, you're breaking character," you scolded playfully. Rafael nodded. “Lo siento.”

 Your stared at Rafael intently, before kissing him hard. Rafael’s hands gripped your tightly against him. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and your tongues battled each other’s. Rafael traced your mouth with his tongue before sucking in your bottom lip. He gave it a little tug, pulling a soft mewl out from you. You pulled away again, your lipstick which was perfect from the earlier reapplication was smeared.

 “You’re beautiful,” Rafael rasped softly, his eyes darkening as he drank you in once more. “Intoxicating.” His large fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your mouth to his once more so he could taste you once more. His tongue was warm against yours and your lips tingled. Rafael tugged your bra down, causing your breasts to spill out from their confines - not that your bra covered much anyway. Rafael palmed a breast, using his thumb and index fingers to twist and tug on a nipple.

 You sighed into his kiss as your hands moved down his clothed chest. Rafael was solid and you could feel his muscles twitch under his shirt. You pulled at it, untucking the shirt. Breaking the kiss, Rafael helped you remove his shirt, before tossing it to the floor.

 You kissed Rafael once more, leaving upwards into the kiss and his large hands made way to your rear, where he squeezed your flesh firmly before landing a resounding smack. Rafael massaged your skin once more before following up with another spank. You whimpered in response.

 “Lo amas,” Rafael growled in your ear, causing you to shudder, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

 You kissed him once more, your tongue flicking against his. You ground against his cock, causing Rafael to groan.

 Rafael pushed his thumb into your mouth. You and Rafael locked eyes and he felt his breath hitch as you sucked and swirled your tongue around the tip. “Fuuuuck,” Rafael moaned.

 You released his thumb from your mouth. “That’s the plan,” you replied with a wink.

 Dipping your head to pepper kisses along his chest and neck, you slowly sunk down his body, and settled in between his legs. Your hands skimmed his thighs before landing on the part Rafael needed to have touched most. You palmed the growing bulge and Rafael’s hips thrusted erratically upwards.

 “Is that what you like? Don’t worry guapo, I will take care of you,” you cooed. Rafael looked down at you, his eyes blown with lust. He nodded and you smirked, biting your bottom lip. You reached around and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor, by his shirt. The sight of you between his legs, breasts exposed, lipstick strewn was enough to drive Rafael crazy. You were a goddess.

 Rafael stood, and you inched back so that he could remove his shoes, socks and jeans. Finally, he pulled his throbbing hard cock free from the confines of his boxers. The tip glistened with pre cum and you instinctively licked your lips hungrily. There was a glint in Rafael's eye when he noticed the way you were looking at him. “Keep your eyes on me,” you quietly commanded.

 You rose up on your knees so you that you were higher. You spat into your hand and reached up to jerk his cock before taking him into your mouth. Rafael hissed and he wrapped both of his hands into your hair, guiding your mouth on his cock. He had to will himself to not just fuck your mouth and completely unload. Closing his eyes, Rafael wondered how you’d look with his cum decorating you, and he decided to save that idea for another day.

 “You’re such a good cocksucker,” Rafael praised and you squealed in response, though the sound was muffled because your mouth was full. Rafael’s cock felt heavy in your mouth and the taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth. You were soaking wet; you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.

 You pulled away, a strand of saliva connected you to him. You continued to use your hand to help you before taking more of his length into your mouth, triggering your gag reflex. The sounds of your mouth slobbering all over his cock drove Rafael crazy.

 You didn't ease up. You reached up and gently cradled his balls, massaging them softly. Rafael continued to sing your praises as you worked him. You dipped your head down and sucked gently on his balls, as your other hand jerked him.

 Rafael was close; he was losing his damn mind. “I am going to cum,” he warned. “Mmmm,” you hummed, sending vibrations up and through Rafael’s body. Rafael’s grip on your head tightened and without warning he began to fuck your mouth, thrusting erratically. Suddenly your mouth was flooded with the taste of his hot, salty cum as he released into your mouth. Rafael shuddered as the last drops of his cum released into your mouth. “That’s it, take it like a good girl,” he rumbled, deep and low.

 You released him from your mouth, some cum dripping from your mouth as you did so. Rafael wiped it with his thumb and you turned your face so you could capture his thumb again with your mouth to suck it clean. Once you did so, Rafael pulled you up to him, kissing you hard, tasting himself. Hands on your ass, Rafael scooped you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips.

 He carried you to the bed, before throwing you down. The comforter was so fluffy, you almost sunk into it. You didn’t have time to get too comfortable as Rafael turned you over, and pulled your legs up, so that your ass was in the air, the rest of your body splayed down.

 Rafael could feel himself hardening again once more, the sight of your scantily covered ass with the garters stretching, was all too erotic. His hands ran up your thighs, before he got to your center. The tips of his fingers ghosted your sex. The sound of material ripping filled the room and you realized he had torn the thong you were wearing.

 Rafael spread your cheeks, before delving his face into your soaked pussy. You moaned loudly, as his warm tongue licked a broad stripe. Instinctively, you pushed back, trying to get his tongue deeper inside of you. Rafael held you steady as he ate you out like if he was a man possessed. His tongue swirled over your lips and swollen nub, your arousal flooding his mouth. You gripped the sheets, feeling your orgasm approach quickly. “I could eat you for hours. You have the sweetest little pink pussy,” he confessed before delving back in, holding you tighter to his face.

 Just as you felt your walls start to flutter, Rafael pulled away, partly in an attempt to catch his breath, and partly to tease you. His face glistened with your arousal. He alternated kisses with love bites on your thighs.

 He slipped a finger inside of you and slowly pumped it in and out of you. You cried out in response. “Oh my fucking God! Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pleaded. Rafael slipped another finger, continuing to languidly thrust his fingers in and out of you. Your thighs trembled, feeling the coil inside of you begin to grow again.

 Rafael could sense you were at the precipice once more. He slipped another finger, stretching you fully. His thumb ghosted your swollen pink pearl.  “Please let me cum,” you sobbed. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire, it had never been this intense before.

 Rafael chuckled low, slipping his fingers out. “Paciencia, cariño.” Rafael flipped you over, so that you were sprawled on your back. He made a big show of sucking his fingers clean.

 Wantonly, you spread your legs once more and reached down to rub your clitoris. Rafael swatted your hand away. You whined in response. Rafael was hard again, his cock throbbed. “You want something amor?”

 You bit your lip, nodding. “Please.”

 Rafael stroked his cock, as he sat back on his haunches. “What do you want?”

 “You,” you mewled. “Your cock in my pussy.”

 Rafael positioned himself over you. Reaching down, he rubbed his cock against your slit. You bucked your hips trying to get him closer. Again, teasingly, Rafael ribbed his cock against your folds, barely just slipping in. You whimpered in protest.

 Rafael braced himself on his forearms, his mouth against your ears. “What was that again? Repítete. No te escuché.”

 “¡Ay carajo! I want your cock in my pussy, Rafael. Fucking fill me up with that big fat cock of yours,” you implored desperately.

 “That’s it,” Rafael moaned, sliding his cock into you. You gasped at the fullness. You clung onto Rafael as he bottomed out. He filled you so completely that it took your breath right out of you, just like it did every time that you were intimate with him.

 Slowly, Rafael began to thrust up into you. However, you were so close to the precipice and not in the mood for niceties. “Come on, I’m not gonna break,” you gritted. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

 Rafael growled in response before quickening his tempo. The headboard of the bed banged against the wall as he repeatedly pistoned into you. Your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, and Rafael’s gold chain swayed against your chest with every thrust. Your lovemaking was primal, animalistic and raw. Rafael rotated his hips, before coming to a still causing you to mewl and whimper.

 “You’re so fucking wet,” Rafael cooed. “Your pussy takes my cock so well.”

 “I... I...” you babbled incoherently. Rafael pulled out of you, before pulling you on top of him. You followed his lead, reaching down to grab his cock. You noticed your essence all over his cock and you groaned internally before you climbed onto him and sunk into his cock. You began to bounce eagerly, and Rafael sat up, pawing your tits. He sucked on your flesh as you continued to ride him.

 Rafael used the pad of his thumb to rub your swollen pink nub as you bounced on him. “Are you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

 “I am going to... fuuuuck,” you gasped.

 “Come for me,” Rafael commanded with a grunt, gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you. His grip was so tight, you were certain there would be bruises on you hips come morning. “Cream on my cock.”

 You wailed Rafael’s name as you came completely undone. Feeling your walls flutter around his cock, seeing your wrecked face - it was all too much for Rafael and he came once more, stiffening as he released into you. Feeling Rafael come again was your undoing and once more you came, murmurs of “let my pussy milk that cock,” left your lips. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you saw stars.

 You collapsed against Rafael, falling into a heap as you came down back to reality. Rafael pressed a kiss to your head, before gently lifting your face to give you a soft kiss. You stayed intimately connected as you each caught your breath. You eventually peeled your sweaty body off of Rafael. You snuggled into his chest, basking in his warmth. “That was ... wow.”

 “You broke character,” Rafael quipped, as he stroked your hair. “You said my name, not Miguel, the stock broker’s.”

 You giggled, playfully smacking his chest. “What can I say? Your name just falls easily from my lips. I guess we’ll just have to have a do-over.” You looked up at Rafael now stroking his chest. He chuckled before pressing another kiss to your lips.

 “As many do-overs you need,” Rafael promised. “Get some sleep, I love you."

 “Good thing I packed us enough clothes for the weekend. Love you too.”

 FIN

#rafael barba smut #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #barba x reader #barba and reader #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fanfiction #life is short and rafael barba is hot #my writing #my fanfiction

[lu-undy]

Hello again! I hope im not bothering you, Mundy was gone for how many years...he was still in a mannco, while Lucien is already retired for being a spy. Lu was totally miss sniper. He can't handle it already for being alone. He thought that his lover was already death. But soon, Mundy ( looks totally different he has a long beard, lots of scars in his arms) came back.

Hey, thank you for the request, I absolutely loved writing this! I hope you will like reading it! :D

“Bonjour”

[Hello.]

Lucien entered his usual bakery in Paris and didn't even have to say what he wanted. The baker knew him and his routine: one baguette and two croissants. 

"Ajoutez deux éclairs au chocolat, s'il vous plaît."

[Add two chocolate éclairs, please.]

The ex-Spy paid what he owed and returned to the solitude of his flat, poured some coffee in a cup, and sat on his table, reading the newspaper.

He had retired years ago now and it had been about the hardest decision to make. Although, in truth, it hadn't been his at all. He had been injured beyond what Medic could repair and it was a miracle that he didn't completely bust his kneecap. Ah, that shot from Team Vanguard's Sniper…. However, it was enough to put a stop to his contract with Mann Co. and to his entire career. 

But his damaged knee did not only put a sudden end to his career. Back when he was a Spy, Lucien shared his life with a friend who turned into a lover. More than that, Sniper turned out to understand him more and better than any previous romantic conquest ever before, and Lucien let himself fall in love as deeply as he could ever be. 

They shared their days, their meals and their nights together, becoming inseparable, yet remaining professional on the battlefield. They went by Spy and Sniper at work, and Lucien and Mundy when they were on their own. 

What a luxury for Spy, to have a lover who could know and did know that he was a Spy. There was very little left that Lucien could hide from him and so he trusted Mundy with everything, from his body to his thoughts. Even the darkest corners of his mind he shared with him. Not only he could, but he also felt safe enough in the strong arms of the man his heart beat for. 

It had never changed. Lucien still loved him. There wasn't a day where he didn't think about Mundy, there wasn't a moment where he didn't crave his presence. But it had been years now, and if he recalled correctly, it would have been their seventh anniversary on that very day. 

Lucien stared at the box containing the chocolate éclairs he had bought. It was on the table in front of him. Those were Mundy's favourite pastries and he loved them too. Anytime they needed to celebrate something, or if he just wanted to treat him, Lucien would buy some. He had kept the habit even though Mundy wasn't with him anymore. 

When he had left Mann Co., both of them decided that it would be better to not try and keep in touch. They loved each other too much to just write letters or phone each other. What they had shared was so much stronger than that. 

Often, Lucien wondered if Mundy too thought about him or if he just had forgotten and moved on. Maybe he had found someone else, maybe he had managed to turn the page. But not Lucien. He had gotten rid of most objects that reminded him of Mann Co., in an effort to try and forget, but of course it ended up doing the exact opposite. 

Each new day that God made, Lucien missed Mundy more. From the moment he would wake up, in a bed that was too large, empty and cold, to his meals that he would have with the sound of the clock, counting the ticks and tocks that separated him from his loved one. 

There were days where Lucien wouldn't exit his flat at all, and he wouldn't even open his blinds. The world asked too much of his energy and facing it alone was above him. That was on days where the weather wasn't too cold. When winter hit, it usually meant for Lucien that his knee would trouble him more than usual, and his cane wasn't enough to help him walk.

He sighed. Every year he would celebrate the anniversary alone. It reminded him of when he was a child. He would spend his birthdays more or less alone too, as Lucien had always been a man of very few friends. But celebrating it on his own did not mean that he should not do it properly. He went to his room and dressed up accordingly. 

Black socks, garters, Burgundy striped trousers, white shirt, dark red tie, Burgundy striped jacket, black gloves. Ah, and of course, the matching balaclava. 

He had got rid of almost all the objects that reminded him of Mundy, but not the suit. Non, it was the one that Mundy had touched, sometimes just lightly, a tap on the shoulder, other times fiercely, almost to the point of ripping it apart to get to Lucien's hot bare skin. 

His skin prickled as if he could feel it all again. Lucien raised his head to his mirror and looked at himself. He pushed the front grey lock of hair which, as usual, stuck out of the mask, and adjusted the balaclava, like a sad clown tired to put on a show; because that was exactly what it was, a show. A comedy for the cynical and a tragedy for Lucien himself.

He frowned at his reflection. That was it, he was him again. He was Spy. 

Spook.

His ears pricked up as if he could hear it for real, Mundy's voice calling him. Lucien took a deep breath and sighed.

And he proceeded to spend his entire day roleplaying as his past, happier self. He even faked a few grins, here and there. The first one hurt his lips, and the ones that followed asked almost too much of his energy. Pff… And to think he used to be a spy, paid to pretend and lie. Now, he couldn't even fake a smile. 

Spy took his cane and walked out of his flat. He needed to see it. He needed to see people's awkward looks at his mask, at the ridiculous uniform. He held his cane in his hand and walked without it for a few steps, pretending that he was Spy again. And people stared more at his physical appearance than his limp.

He walked, took step after step, feeling his entire right leg and thigh weigh a ton, his knee screaming in pain. But Lucien bit his cheek and frowned. No amount of physical pain compared to the emptiness in his heart. He wasn't doing it for himself alone, he was doing it for them, because the last time he wore that suit and it made sense, he didn't need his cane. Mundy was there to help him, holding him close, and the pain in his knee was drowned by the love he felt for the handsome Australian.

Eventually, Lucien found a bench and sat down. Like a reflex, his hand went to his breast pocket and he opened his cigarette case. He used his silver lighter and a flame sprang up. 

He stayed there, lazily watching people come and go, cars and buses passing by. He was used to the weird stares at his face wearing a mask. But somehow it felt different. He used to ignore them because he knew he was handsome. Lucien only had to look at how Mundy gazed at him to see his own beauty. And nothing would get to him, nothing at all. 

That was all gone now. 

Lucien lifted himself up from the bench and headed back home. He closed and locked his door. He didn't use to be the paranoid type and lock his door all the time, and he still wasn't. However, he needed to close the door, he needed to isolate himself from the rest of the world. The Earth had kept on spinning like a mad tip-top in space, but Lucien's life had stopped long ago. 

He rested his cane next to his chair as he sat down, and raised his eyes to the clock. It was the evening now and if he had still been working for Mann Co., he would have been with Mundy in his smoking room. Now would have been the right moment for it… 

Lucien put his gloved hands on the closed box containing the pastries and made it slide closer to him on the table. He removed his mask and carded his salt and pepper hair back with his fingers. Lucien gulped down hard as he slowly opened the box. Soon, he saw the two chocolate éclairs lying there and sighed. It was almost as if part of him expected to open the box and find Mundy there… Ridiculous… 

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. He grumbled and frowned as he said:

"Allez-vous-en!"

[Go away!]

The knocks started again and it got on his nerves. 

"J'ai dit: allez-vous-en! Allez vendre vos gadgets et vos balivernes à quelqu'un d'autre!"

[I said: go away! Go sell your gadgets and your lies to someone else!]

Silence fell for a second and Lucien sighed in relief… But the knocks started yet again. 

"Grand Dieu…"

[Good Lord…]

Lucien pulled his leg out from underneath the table and grabbed his cane. He stood up and walked to the door, determined to scare whoever was disturbing him. He would have still got angry if it was another day but today was special, sacred. No one and nothing should and could disturb him. 

The keys jingled as he unlocked the door and Lucien opened it aggressively. 

"Mon Dieu, vous ne pouvez pas me - ?"

[My God, can't you leave me - ?]

Lucien's sentence broke and his knees went to jelly, he started collapsing and the man in front of him caught him just in time. 

"Oh, careful, mate, eh… You used to stand better than that last time I saw you." 

"N-non…"

Lucien found some strength to stand on his own and put his hand on the man's cheek. There was a beard now there, dark brown by the looks of it, but impeccably trimmed. Lucien realised that his glove was in the way, he bit it and pulled it away before putting his hand on the man's cheek again, just to make sure it wasn't his head playing tricks on him.

"It can't be…" 

"Can we come in?" 

"O-oui, of course." 

Lucien shut the door and dragged his leg to sit on the sofa next to the man he would recognise anywhere. 

"Is that you?" He asked when they were both sitting next to each other. His eyes darted on every square millimetre of the man's face in utter shock.

"Did I change that much? Alright, the beard... I kept the glasses and the hat though… But you haven't changed a bit. You even still wear the suit! Such a Spook you are…" 

Lucien's breath cut short, his nose stinging all of a sudden and his eyes warmed up too fast to hold himself back. He burst out sobbing and pulled Mundy closer to himself, crying on his chest. 

"Hey now…? It's alright, I'm here, it's ok…"

Mundy wrapped his arms around Lucien and held him close while he sobbed and sobbed relentlessly. 

"I'm sorry, maybe I should have sent you a card, or called or somethin'. I just thought it'd be better to make it a surprise."

"I missed you… I missed you so much… I missed you so… much…" 

Lucien tried to speak between two sobs. Mundy let his fingers slide through his lover's hair and pulled his head against him even more. 

"I missed you too." He kissed his head. "I'm sorry to make you cry. I meant it to be a happy thing and now you're cryin'..."

Lucien pulled himself away from his lover's embrace and took a minute to calm himself down. He dried his tears and took a few deep breaths before looking up at the man he would have died to see again. He removed his other glove and cupped his face. 

"It's really you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. Took me ages to find you, you slitherin' Spook, but I finally did a few weeks ago. And uh… I don't know if you remember but it would have been seven years today." 

Lucien let his thumbs brush his lover's beard again.

"You think I would have forgotten? It is precisely why I dressed up like this!"

"Wait, what?" 

"Oh, and wait!" 

Lucien jumped on his left leg to stand up rapidly and awkwardly walked as fast as he could to the table. He closed the box that he had left there again, and came back to the sofa, almost collapsing on it. 

"Hey, take it easy! Don't want the handsome rogue to bust his other knee eh?"

Lucien landed in Mundy's arms and chuckled. He handed him the white laminated cardboard box. 

"What's that?" Mundy asked.

"It - it's for you and me." 

"Well in that case, here's for you too." 

Mundy handed him a plastic bag.

"But how did you buy somethin' for us, you didn't know I was coming?"

"I do it anyway. Every year I…" Lucien felt uncomfortable as he now realised how stupid and delusional it all was. 

Mundy put his hand on Lucien's shoulder. 

"Go ahead, tell me."

"It's… Ridiculous." 

"Well, not half as ridiculous as falling for a bloke you'd never seen the face of, eh? Or never stopping to love him for years until you go mad and just bang your fist on the table, leave your work and everything for him?" Mundy chuckled and Lucien smiled. "It's only me mate, go on." 

"Fine… Every year on this special day, I dress up as, well, as the Spy I was when I met you. I put the suit and tie on, even the mask, and I spend the entire day like that."

Mundy frowned. 

"Why?" 

"Because… Because it's the closest I could be to being with you for real. I also buy a similar box to the one you have in your hand. Open it, please." 

Mundy delicately lifted the lid and his eyebrows arched high up, his lips pursing in the sweetest smile. 

"You didn't forget about the lightnin' pastries, eh?" Mundy eyes went up to meet his lover's.

Lucien smiled.

"And you remember that éclair means lightning?"

"I can't really forget any French you taught me." 

"And I can't forget your tastes in pastries."

They stared in each other's eyes for a while, just rediscovering their colours, their shapes and their shine.

"But Lu', go ahead and open yours." 

Lucien's eyes snapped wide at the mention of his nickname. Mundy was the only one ever in his life to call him that. 

"Y'alright?" 

Lucien shook his head and cleared his throat. 

"Oui, oui sorry, I uh, I shall open this." He put the box that was in the plastic bag on his lap and slowly opened it. When his eyes met with its content, he bit his lip to hold himself back from tearing up again. 

"Yeah, I got the same thing too…" Mundy said. "I didn't think you'd buy some yerself. I thought that… Maybe you'd forgotten about it and uh, about me. Maybe you found someone else, you're as good-looking as when you left so…"

"Nonsense." Lucien answered. "Find someone else? Me? Non, of course not. You are the only person I want. I don't want anyone else, how could I? You are the only one I trust."

Mundy smiled and softened. 

"And you? Are you with someone else?" Lucien asked. 

"Nah. I did try, y'know, to get you out of my head… But you never really went away and I kept comparin' people to you. It never worked with anyone and in the end I just faced it: I love no one else but you. But we've got time to talk about this. First, we eat the lightnin' pastries before they flash away. I'll eat one from your box and you eat one from mine, ok?" 

Lucien nodded and took one of the éclairs in his hand. They both raised their pastries and tipped them as if they were pints of beer. 

"To us, luv'." 

Lucien's eyes glistened. 

"À nous…" He gulped down, his throat was dry, before he answered. "Mon amour."

[To us… My love…]

And they both bit in their éclairs at the same time, smiling into the soft pastry, the fresh chocolate cream meeting their tongues in the sweetest embrace.

Lucien could not believe that he was sitting here, on his sofa, with Mundy next to him eating their favourite sweet delicacy on the seventh year of their romantic adventure. Mundy couldn't help but lace his arm around Lucien and sit back, and Lucien used his lover's chest as a pillow. 

"How I've missed all this…" 

"Me too, luv', me too. It almost seems like a dream, or like we're doing something forbidden." 

"Oui, it is true. I… You will mock me but I can hardly believe I am not hallucinating this whole situation."

"Yeah, same here." Mundy licked his fingers. "So, uh, what have you been up to?"

"Missing you." Lucien answered as he closed his eyes, his head rising and falling to the rhythm of Mundy's breath. 

"Yeah, I meant apart from that. Anythin' new?"

"Hm…" Lucien tried thinking about anything remotely interesting but couldn't find anything. "Non, I'm afraid." 

"You haven't picked up somethin' over all those years, like a hobby or something?"

"Non." 

"You poor thing…" Mundy kissed his lover on his head again and Lucien clenched his fingers on his chest.

"What about you, mon amour?"

[My love]

"I uh… I'm a barber now." 

"What?!" Lucien raised his head off his lover's chest. "Really?" 

"Yeah, what do you think about my beard? I trimmed it myself. I had my hair cut by a friend though cause uh, well, you can't really do it on your own head. But yeah, what d'you think?" 

Lucien's eyes devoured Mundy. 

"I find you even more handsome than when I left. It makes you look older, and it is not a complaint at all, I like it very much." Lucien inspected the beard. "And that is some great job, I can hardly see any imperfections. Your beard is magnificent, it shines almost too much!"

"I put some oil to take care of it. If you ever want to grow one, I can help you, there's some good stuff out there to have it grow nice and shine bright." 

Lucien's eyelids fluttered under the surprise. 

"What? You don't want to grow a beard?" Mundy asked. 

"That is besides the point, I'm, I'm just speechless… I remember when you used to mock me because I use a hand cream! And listen to you now, using oil to take care of your beard and such…!"

Mundy laughed and Lucien's heart woke up almost violently in his chest. It had been years that he hadn't heard that rough laughter, from that special hoarse voice. 

"Speakin' of, gimme your hand." 

Mundy took Lucien's hand and put it under his nose.

"You old man, you never change, do you? Still usin' the same vanilla hand cream, eh?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"Oui, I am. You know me, I don't like to change my habits."

Mundy slid his fingers between Lucien's. 

"Yeah." 

Silence fell in the room. Lucien laid his head on Mundy's chest again and listened to his heartbeat right below his ear, while Mundy played with Lucien's hair. It was all back as it had been years before, only it wasn't in Mann Co. but in Paris. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

Lucien opened his eyes and looked up. He only saw part of Mundy's masculine jaw from below.

"How long are you staying?"

"Well, I-I don't really know, luv'." 

"Oh…" 

Mundy heard the disappointment in Lucien's voice.

"It might be just a few days or longer." 

"Why are you so unsure? Do you have obligations elsewhere?"

"Not really."

"Why then?"

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"On you." Mundy answered and Lucien's head jumped off his chest. 

"What do you mean 'it depends on me'?"

"Well, d'you want me to stay?" Mundy asked with a smirk. 

"Of course I do…! And you, do you want to stay?" Lucien asked back. 

"I just want to be with you. Here, elsewhere, on the bloody Moon if that's what you want. I just want to have you next to me all the time. It was too hard without you, I don't want that ever again."

Lucien melted on his lover's chest hearing those words. He laid his head on it again.

"Neither do I. Please, Mundy…?"

"Yeah, what?" 

"Stay with me." Lucien pleaded with his voice. 

"Yeah, I will. But first, look up here, luv'." 

Lucien did as he was told and saw the most beautiful lagoon blue eyes on his own. Mundy's hand slid from Lucien's hair to behind his neck and pulled him in closer. They rested their forehead against each other's. 

"I love you, Lu'." 

Lucien closed his eyes and bit his lip. 

"Je t'aime aussi."

[I love you too.]

Mundy bent forward and his lips brushed past Lucien's, just grazing them. He didn't know if it was too much or maybe he was going too fast. But no, Lucien cupped Mundy's face and pulled it even more. Their lips met. After years of yearning, longing, craving. Finally, their lips met again.

Mundy felt Lucien's lips trembling. He opened his eyes and backed off slightly. Tears were silently streaming down Lucien's face, his eyes were red and slightly swollen. 

"You poor thing, I'm never leaving you again." 

"Please don't." 

And those words were the last they exchanged on the sofa. More was said after Mundy stood up and carried Lucien in his arms. But those words shall remain in the secrecy of their room, under the duvet.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

[prettyboypeterparker]

Peter’s laying on the grass out front with a glass of lemonade when a U-haul pulls into the house next door. There’s a pickup truck following behind that’s connected to a flat car carrier and strapped up on top is a hot rod, Peter’s attention wanes easily. Peter goes back to reading his book and sucking on the bendy straw in his drink, he hears bustling and a few male voices and decides to look over at the house.

“C’mon Barnes, lift with your knees not your back.” Peter hears someone yell.

The voice seems to come from a man standing by the pickup, he’s wearing tight blue denim jeans with a black shirt and he seems to be holding a box in his hands.

“I’d like to see you try and lift this Stark, you’d crumble within the second.” The man, Barnes, calls back.

Barnes is gorgeous, he’s got long brown hair that’s tucked up in a bun and he’s wearing black khakis and a red Henley that bulges around toned muscles, he’s standing by another man who’s tall, blond and handsome. He’s smiling at Barnes and is holding two boxes in each beefed up arm. Peter likes everything he sees. Blondie makes eyes at Barnes and walks with him inside the house leaving Stark by his pickup. Peter’s going to assume that Stark is his new neighbor and thinks it’s fitting to go say hello.

“Hi Mister.” Peter calls out as he abandons his book.

He walks over to the man and takes a pull at his straw.

“Oh, hi.” Stark says as he adjusts the box in his arm to free a hand.

Peter shakes it and snickers softly when Stark draws his hand back and wipes it on his jeans, Peter had purposely used his wet hand.

“I’m Peter, I live next door with my Aunt.” Peter points a thumb over his shoulder at his house.

“Right. Well I’m Tony, it was nice to meet you kid.” Tony, huh, Peter likes the way it rolls on his tongue.

“You too Mr Stark, be sure to come around and meet my Aunt when you got time.” Peter smiles cotton candy sweet before waving goodbye, he walks back over to his spot on the grass and resumes reading.

Over the rest of the afternoon Peter catches Tony staring at him when he thinks Peter isn’t looking, Peter puts on a little show of stretching and not fixing his shirt when it slides up his belly, he even arch’s his back at one point and moans softly like the idea of stretching like this brings him pleasure. Tony drops a box when Peter does this, he stands at the hedge staring at him until Barnes asks if he’s okay.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Tony murmurs back.

*

It’s mid summer and Peter hates the heat, he’s more of winter kind of guy, loves wearing big sweaters and fluffy socks but it seems this summer brings two good things. First May works nearly every day from early morning to late at night and Peter gets to slut around in tiny cotton shorts and shirts that he hacked the sleeves off of and second Tony Stark works on his hot rod with the garage door rolled open and Peter figures the heat must get to him as well because he ditches his shirt and walks around in tight jeans and wife beaters covered in grease.

Peter lays on his porch swing with more homemade lemonade and watches as Tony works on his car, Peter knows he’s openly staring, he doesn’t actually care if he’s caught. Best case is that Tony fucks him for being rude and he gets the best hate sex of his young virgin life and worse case is that Tony tells him to stop. Not that Peter would listen. Peter lays in the warmth until he runs out of lemonade, he walks inside to the kitchen and grabs the pitcher when suddenly a great idea comes to mind, Peter grabs a glass cup from the dishwashing rack and takes that and the pitcher outside he walks down his lawn and into Tony’s. Tony is still working on his car, music blasting at an acceptable volume so as not to disturb Mrs Bell one house over who is getting terribly crabbier with each passing day. Peter heads up to the garage and waltz’s on in without any care and pours lemonade into the cup, he places the pitcher on a work bench and as he walks to Tony he rubs the chilled glass along his neck and up his cheeks to his temples.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” Peter says words heavy and thick with heat.

“Shit kid, you shouldn’t sneak up on people.” Tony startles, hand coming to his chest.

“Sorry Mr Stark, I thought you might like some lemonade to fend off the heat. I made it myself.” Peter sloshes the cup and some of the lemonade tips over the rim.

“That’s, uh, that’s real nice of you. Thanks.” Tony stands from his stool and grabs the glass.

He steadily drinks all of the lemonade and takes a big gulp of air afterwards, he wipes at his mouth with his arm and smears a bit of oil across his cheek.

“Would you like some more?” Peter turns to pick up the jug when his plan comes in to play.

As Peter takes a step closer to fill the cup up he pretends to stumble and pours the sticky drink all over his shirt.

“Oh man, I’m so clumsy.” Peter looks up at Tony and notices that his grip on the cup has tightened.

“You should probably take that shirt off before it sticks to your skin.” Tony swallows and his pupils fatten.

“Yeah I should.” Peter places the pitcher down and grabs the hem of his shirt and shimmies it up his tummy and chest before pulling it off his head where sweat drenched curl stick to his temples.

Tony watches his every move and Peter works on mopping up some of the lemonade from in between his chest.

“Man it’s so messy and stick.” Peter whines.

“You should have a shower.” Tony says gently.

Peter goes to ask if he could just shower here when Tony seems to get a hold of himself, sadly.

“You should go home and shower... yeah.” Tony hands over the glass and pitcher before shuffling Peter out of his garage.

“Mr Stark.” Tony shakes his head.

“Go home Peter.” Peter huffs but walks away.

He’ll seduce Mr Stark, he’ll do whatever it takes to have him.

*

It seems that Peter isn’t the only one who has eyes for Tony. May invites him over for a homemade dinner and dessert and Tony accepts happily, Peter puts up a fuss the entire time that May cooks dinner and even tries to burn the roast but May manages to salvage it and at exactly seven thirty the doorbell chimes and May is sending Peter to fetch the door.

“Hi Peter.” Tony says politely as the door opens.

“Hey.” Peter crosses his arms across his chest and stares Tony down.

“Uh, I bought these for your Aunt.” Tony holds forward a bouquet of river lilies, they’re absolutely gorgeous.

“May’s allergic to lilies.” Peter lies.

“Oh, shit.” Peter smiles sweetly and takes them.

“I can take them, just if you’ve touched them you probably shouldn’t touch May. Just incase.” Tony nods and wipes his hands on his jeans.

Peter tries not to laugh but shuts the door and leads Tony into the dining room where three plates are set up.

“You just wait here, I’ll get rid of these.” Tony sits at the head of the table and Peter walks into the kitchen, May is standing by the stove steaming vegetables.

Peter finds a vase and fills it with water, he cuts a little bit of the stems off and arranges them nicely before walking up to his bedroom and placing them on his bedside table. May calls him back down and he runs downstairs to the kitchen.

“Can you take these out please?” May hands over a bowl of mash and gravy.

“Sure can.” May smiles at him and kisses his cheek.

“Such a good boy.” Peter takes the bowl into the dining room and places it on the table.

Tony’s on his phone and looks up when Peter places the bowl down a little too hard.

“Hey it’ll be best if you didn’t mention the flowers, May’ll feel bad that you spent money on her.” Tony nods and Peter leaves him to grab more food.

When the tables covered in food everyone sits down together, Peter fills his plate up and eats angrily as the two adults chatter on about stupid adult stuff.

“I think I’m going to go back up to my room, I have homework and all. You two should keep talking though, don’t let my absence get in the way.” Peter snaps, he grabs his plate and flounces into the kitchen.

This evening has been one of the worst he’s had.

*

Two weeks later Peter has the perfect opportunity to seduce Tony. May has left for the day and Peter goes into his Aunts room to snoop for some of her delicates. He finds what he’s looking for in the back of her closet tucked away under Peter’s box of baby photos which, gross. He pulls the black back out and dumps the contents on the carpet, a receipt flutters out and Peter checks the date, May’s only bought these recently so she must think she’s going to get lucky with Tony. Not on his watch. Peter picks up the lingerie and takes it into his own room where he lays it out all pretty on his bedspread, Peter goes for a quick shower and cleans himself of sticky sweat and washes himself with his newly bought strawberry scented body wash. When he walks ass naked out into his room he flicks on some music and starts to figure out how the lingerie works as he air dries.

“How the shit do women do this?” Peter complains out loud.

After a while he manages to figure it out, he slips on the green and black panties that are embroidered with roses, next is the bra which he clips it on at the front of his chest then swivels it around, he slides the straps over his shoulders and adjusts them as necessary the lace rubs against his nipples until they pebble and Peter likes the feeling. The last item is a garter but he skips it and throws on clothes over the top, he switches off his music and heads downstairs and outside. Tony isn’t working in his garage and he isn’t outside so Peter walks up his lawn and porch and knocks three times on the front door, it swings open and Tony stands behind the screen door.

“Peter?” Peter musters the best innocent smile and nods.

“Hi Mr Stark, I was wondering if you were busy?” Tony opens the screen door and stares down at Peter.

“Not at all, what can I do for you?” Peter fiddles with the hem of his short shorts.

“Well Mr Stark, my Aunts not home and I was wondering if you could come fix the sink in the bathroom? You look pretty handy so I thought maybe you could help?” Tony takes a moment before nodding.

“Sure, just let me get my toolbox.” Peter thanks the older man and waits patiently for him to get what he needs.

The plan is going accordingly and now all Peter has to do is somehow get Tony in a position where he can’t refuse him.

Tony comes back with a black and yellow toolbox and follows Peter back to his house asking questions about the sink, Peter lies through his teeth and when they get inside Peter leads him upstairs into the bathroom.

“Huh, the sink looks fine Peter.” Tony says as he turns the tap on.

“I guess it must of fixed itself while I was gone?” Peter tries but Tony doesn’t look so convinced.

“I’m starting to think the sink wasn’t broken. Was it?” Peter rolls his eyes and cocks his hip.

“Okay fine the sink wasn’t broken, I lied but I just wanted to talk to you Mr Stark.” Tony picks up his toolbox and starts to walk away.

“You shouldn’t lie Peter, have you heard of the boy who cried wolf?”

“I’m sorry.” Peter whines.

“Sorry doesn’t always cut it kid.” Tony is leaving and Peter is getting desperate.

Peter runs ahead of Tony and stops him in his tracks.

“Look, I like you Mr Stark and I’m pretty sure you like me too so why don’t we skip the whole, pretending that nothing’s happening thing?” Peter says seductively, fingers curling creases into Tony’s wifebeater.

“Like? What are we in, grade school? Jesus Peter I don’t like you, you’re my neighbors kid nephew who might I add shouldn’t dress like he’s a two cent hooker.” Peter smiles.

“You think I look like a two cent hooker? How sweet, you haven’t even seen what’s underneath.” Tony’s jaw tense.

“And I plan to keep it that way, you’re literal jailbait. This isn’t happening Peter.” Peters smile turns into a frown.

“Why are pretending like there isn’t something between us?” Tony sighs.

“If there was anything between us and I’m saying a very big if, you’re too young anyways. Plus your Aunt’s a very lovely lady and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” Peter snorts.

“Tony, this isn’t some power imbalance or some stupid tactic to have sex with you and get you into trouble. I like you and if we had sex that wouldn’t be so bad either. Look I’ll let this go if you can kiss me and not feel anything.” Peter says as he steps closer to Tony.

“Fine, one kiss and if I don’t feel anything I’m leaving and we don’t talk about it and you leave me alone.” Peter smiles.

“Deal.” Tony drops his toolbox and grabs Peter’s face, pulling his face up until his neck strains.

Tony kisses him hard and Peter gets tingles in his toes. Peter definitely feels something and by the way Tony hasn’t pulled away he guesses Tony feels the same way. They part for breath and without saying anything they start kissing again, Peter walks them back and Tony falls back when his shoe hits a snag in the rug Peter goes down with him and ends up on Tony’s lap. The make out until Peter’s lips go numb and Tony paws are his waist, pulling his shirt out of his shorts his hands push the shirt up until it uncovers the bra underneath.

“Oh fuck.” Tony leans up and places his lips in the small crevice between his pecs, the tightness of the bra pushes them together nicely making small mounds.

“Pretty right?” Tony nods and sucks on the lace until it dampens and Peter’s nipple hardens.

Tony treats the other nipple the same and before Peter realises it his shirt is being flung somewhere and Tony’s unclipping the bra expertly.

“Pants.” Peter huffs as he wiggles over Tony’s stiffening prick.

Peter straightens his legs and Tony pulls the cotton shorts down and Peter is pretty sure Tony’s pupils thicken.

“Panties baby?” Peter likes the pet name.

“Yeah, I feel so pretty in them.” Tony’s fingers work over the lace and Peter gets hard steadily at each rub.

“You look pretty baby, so goddamn gorgeous.” Peter flushes and leans down to kiss Tony.

Tony works over Peter until Peter whines and threatens to spill.

“Not yet sweetheart, wanna eat your pussy.” Peter sobs wantonly at Tony’s words and helps the older man pull the panties off.

He kneels over Tony’s head, creamy thighs coming to straddle his face. Tony settles Peter down and gets to work on eating him out, Peter loves every moment and cums quickly though that doesn’t stop Tony he keeps going until Peter spills again.

“Such a good boy.” Peter shakes his head.

“I’m your good girl sir.” Tony pushes Peter on his chest and smiles.

“You my little girl Pete? My pretty princess?” Peter nods gently, he might as well keep playing with this fantasy.

“Yeah I’m yours.” They kiss and Peter can’t help but grin.

“What are you smiling about?” Tony asks as he rakes his fingers through Peter’s knotted curls.

“I’m totally your Lo.” Tony chuckles and licks at the sweat on his neck.

“Yeah baby, you’re undeniably the Lo to my Humbert.”

#starker #tony x peter #lolita au #bit of manipulative peter #starker nff #long read #nff

[shizukateal]

Judging Magia Record’s Outfits [Part 6]

The last part. The 3 rules.

Konoha Shizumi

First, if her weapon is supposed to be some kind of double spear then the designer has a skewed sense of priorities, because that’s just putting aestethics over function, which is something that magical girls have to make a careful balance of. About the outfit itself, I think it’s another perfect representation of what these bad designers get wrong: they choose an aesthetic, but they ruin it because they think that a magical girl outfit has to be different than a regular outfit with the look they chose. So they add all this crap trying to make their character more distinct but they end up throwing them into the forgettable bin because no one would follow an unappealing design no matter how “original” it is. 

The dress itself is ok, although I would get rid of the gold chain on the skirt, but then the designer decided to put that weird leather collar with the strands just hangin there because making them part of the vest was too normie, I guess. It also has an awkward hipline transition, the skirt puffs like a tutu and that just doesn’t really fit with the sleek formal wear look the top is going for. The problem is that if we get her a less poofy skirt then the blue and white on top will become the awkward part. Same goes with the sleeves with the blue design, and they are made worse with the other straps on top of them which are there for no reason. The gloves are passable, but I don’t know is I would keep them if I were to correct this outfit. They are there to add more color but, again they don’t really fit with the rest, what with being fingerless and all. The socks are ok, they seem to be going for the same effect that Homura’s boot-stockings have, although it’s diminished by the fact that the skirt is the same color as them and also for some reason the designer picked those shoes... Like, they certainly look comfortable but if you were gonna go with those you might as well just make her a normal schoolgirl. I’m also not a fan of the hairstyle. Oh, it looks alright here, but in any other of her sprites it’s just weird to see the braids just... appear above her fringe and dissapear around her head without being sure if they break into another braid or ponytail or whatever. The fact that the big flower pin is on the side also doesn’t help. I’d put it behind it to give the braids some sense of closure but I’m not sure it would help with the shape it has. Conclusion: another outfit that could be saved with relatively simple edits.

Hazuki Yusa

WHAT ARE TTTHHOOOOOOOSSSSSEEEE????

Seriously, what are those boots? Who does the quality control for this game and why haven’t they been fired. This is tied to the Madoka franchise, I know that it’s gonna make some money no matter what, but for god’s sake try to save some face. Why does she have two garters on the same leg? Oh Lord, the gloves are as mind-bogglingly stupid as the boots. That weapon looks like that joke post about the toy that let you custumize your own light-saber weapon. I don’t ever understand what her aestethic is supposed to be. What even is the point of the dress showing off her boobs if you’re going too undermine whatever erotic appeal you’re trying to give her with those goddawful boots?! The only good things I can say about this is that her hairstyle is good and the dress is reasonably cute, what a pity that it’s buried under a cape with lapels but no jacket or sleeves.

Characters Ruined by the Male Gaze: 9

Ayame Mikuri

Her aestethic is more consistent that the previous too, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t improve. She reminds me of Cirava Hermod from Hiveswap and I guess that’s partly of why I actually like her hairstyle, minus that random triangle over her fringe. It’s weird, but at least it’s weird in a consistent way. The flower on the ponytail is ok, but it’s kinda pointless since it’s the same color as the hair. Then we look down and once again this artist exibits their weird obsession with lapels just hangin out, but this time the cape is reasonably cute. The gloves are also cute, but when I compare them to the socks and the hairstyle I have to wonder if they should be there at all. Then we have the main dress on top opf the skirt wich is just... whatever. Get it? She’s random XD so of course her dress opens up wherever. Yeah, it’s kinda hard for me to buy all the bare skin spots are an expression of her personality when the rest of her outfit suggests a weird lolita look. The skirt and socks can stay though, especially the socks.

Midrift Count: 10

Characters ruined by the Male Gaze: 10

Aimi Eri

Oh Thank God. Truly this is a sight for sore eyes. No sexualization. Varied and balanced colors, with a bonus of sensibly used patterns. Consistent aestethic. Cute hairstyle that is not afraid to be simple. Frills that don’t overimpose. This is worthy of being one of the protagonists of the show, worthy of being side by side with the Holly Quintet itself, can she please take Rena’s position? Everyone who has followed these posts take note: THIS is an ideal magical girl outfit.

Karin Misono

See what I mean? It’s not that hard to make a good magical girl outfit. Pick a look, then choose some cute clothing items that go with that aestethic, add some accessories without going overboard, and try looking up some actual fucking hairstyles before you invent a new one. I am a bit weirded out that the sleeves don’t connect to the top, but I’ll let it slide.

Midriff count: 11

(the next part)

#puella magi madoka magica #magia record #konoha shizumi #hazuki yusa #ayame mikuri #aimi eri #misono karin #magical girl #magical girl fashion #part 6

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Always

BTS

Min Yoongi/Reader [F]

Genre: Drabble, Mafia AU, Strangers-Lovers

Words: 2.3k

“It’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”

XXX

“And who is this?” Yoongi sat kicked back in his chair as he crossed his legs under his desk.  Two of his men just walked into his office, more like burst and stomped it as they dragged someone with them.  

A woman.  Her hair was a mess as a scowl painted her face.  Her lip was split and a cut bled on her eyebrow as a shiner was forming under her left eye.  She snarled at the man who held her hands behind her back and shoved her forward as she bit at the hand of the other man who shoved her head forward.  

Yoongi ticked his brow up as he interlaced his fingers together to rest on his lap.  

“Sir, this woman was found assaulting a four-man unit and proceeded to fight and resist against us upon capture.”  You jerked at your hand, hoping to free yourself.  The man who held your wrists just tightened his hold, making you wince as you bent involuntarily due to the pain.  You squirmed. 

“Assaulting a four-man unit? Which one,” Yoongi questioned. 

“The one you assigned earlier this week for surveillance in the Southern Districts, Sir.” Yoongi hummed.  This woman looked like a wreck.  Shorts with pocket no deeper than her fingers and a shirt all torn into shreds at the ends.  Though, the twin garter hostlers attached to her thighs caught his attention. 

“She was armed?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Where are her weapons.  I’d like to see them for myself if you wouldn’t mind.”  Yoongi stood from his chair as you shifted your attention from the goons holding you to the man waltzing up to your held back position.  “You both are dismissed.  Leave the woman with me and fetch her firearms immediately.”  

“B-but, Sir-”

“Did I stutter?” His eyes pierced up at the man who was easily twice his size as he peered through the slits in his mint bangs.  The man released you and quickly retreated with his partner out of the office.  

Yoongi looked at you again. You were on edge, in a defensive stance just in case he decided to pounce on you. Your arms out just enough to grab him and put him in some measly hold and legs bent and ready to move if the need arises.  

“Be at ease, I have no intention of causing you harm.  It was not my intent to get anyone involved in a surveillance job. So, put your teeth away; you look like a dog.” Yoongi stepped backward until his rear hit his desk and he leaned against it.  Crossing his ankles in front of him as he placed his hands on his desk to support him. 

You did seem to relax at the distance he place, but not completely.  Of course, it was to be expected.  No one would be relaxed when they were dragged into Mafia Territory and straight into the lion’s den. 

“How did you lose your guns?” Yoongi asked.  You straightened your posture as you placed each hand on each of your empty holsters.  

“Your stupid little lap dogs took them from me.  It’s what started this whole mess,” you seethed.  Even steeped in anger, Yoongi was surprised to find you had a rather pleasant voice. “If they would’ve just left me alone, we wouldn’t be discussing this.”  You tutted as you looked away to direct your glare elsewhere.  “Apparently some of your men have a problem with a woman carrying weapons.  When they tried to take them from me, I decided to use them.”  

Yoongi burst out into laughter.  The unit he had sent out was a small ragtag group of men who really didn’t specialize in anything.  Just thinking about one of them trying to disarm a woman who offered no harm brought a laugh to bubble out of his gut.  As he held his stomach his office door opened and soon a well-dressed man with your guns entered.  

He was young, taller than you by a bit and walked towards Yoongi like he’d known him all his life.  

“Sounds like a party in here,” he said as he moved to stand beside the mafia boss.  “Here you are, two pretty guns that belong to a pretty lady just as you asked.” The man looked over his shoulder and winked at you.  You were speechless, unable to figure out how you should react to that.  

Yoongi swiped your guns as he looked them over.  “Stop flirting and save it for another time, Hoseok.” As Yoongi examined your guns, Hoseok danced over to you in an overly familiar fashion as he got right up in your business.  

“So, you’re the chick-"

“Manners,” Yoongi interrupted. 

“Sorry, the woman that knocked out our survey unit huh?  Wow, you're younger than I thought.”  He crouched down and started poking at your thighs and pulling on your hostler straps and making them snap against your skin.  “Wow, this is pretty durable fabric, how’d you get that!”  You kicked at Hoseok as he now sat on his rear as your face flared in a red hue. 

“Get off my dick!  Just because you have my guns doesn’t mean you can go around touching my thighs you sicko!” You bit at him as you took two very large steps back, you could feel the wall nearly touching your shoulders now.  Hoseok just whistled as he moved to sit more comfortably on the ground, not bothering to get up. 

Yoongi noticed a pair of initials inscribed on the side of the guns. “Are these your initials then?”  

“They are.” Yoongi smiled as he clicked the safe lock of one gun off and pointed it at you.  You were across the room and you froze as you looked at the barrel of your gun.  “What are you gonna do, shoot me after you unfairly capture me?” 

Yoongi shut his eyes as he lowered the gun back down and click the lock back into place. “Not at all,” he then tossed each gun to you as you caught them and immediately slotted them back into their hostlers and clipped them shut, securing your firearms. “I know your initials, but I’ll need to know your name as well.” 

“Why is that?” 

“Because as of today, you’re going to be working under me.” 

XXX

“Y/n!” Yoongi entered the firing range where you had retreated when Hoseok ditched you after combat training.  You had a lot on your mind and the range where you can shot what the fuck you wanted so long as it was in front of you sounded like a good way to blow off steam.  

You halted fire as you pulled your muffling headphones off your head to rest on the back of your neck and shoulders.  You pushed your safety glasses up to your head, moving your hair to reveal your forehead.  Locking your gun, you placed it on the firing table and turned your attention to your boss. 

You wouldn’t forget the day Yoongi forced you into his employ.  He did so rather literally, calling your previous job and quitting for you as he pretty much put you on house arrest at his estate. Despite your literal kicking and screaming, Yoongi was much more resilient than he looked when his sights were set on something.  

He always said he saw some sort of potential in you, but you never believed him.  You knew him for 10 minutes max before he decided that you were going to work for him. 

You worked alongside Hoseok, Yoongi’s personal bodyguard and right hand.  With Hoseok on Yoongi’s right, you were always on his left. 

It’s been almost half a year since then.  Yoongi was every bit the mafia scare he was talked up to be.  Merciless when it came to his trade and taking his work more than seriously.  He was cooped up in his office more than often and when he went out it was always to bars and casinos only to end up in some sort of brawl by the end of the night somehow.  

Though, you and Hoseok both knew he wasn't just that man.  He was someone else too. He was the Yoongi he used to be before he was roped into this stupid, bloody life.  He was someone who enjoyed sitting in his own private home with his dog.  He was someone who always kept tabs on and looked after his parents without dragging them into his own messy life. 

He wasn’t a fan of sweets and liked bitter things.  He preferred coffee to tea and he always slept with two blankets and three pillows.  He absolutely hated wearing socks to bed and had a habit of sleep stripping if he got too hot at night. 

He and Hoseok had known each other since their early years of college before they both dropped out due to where they are now.  They were brothers if not blood-related ones. 

Hoseok had once told you that Yoongi was softer to you that he was to his other female staff.  He treated you different and more delicately.  Although that was almost offensive when thinking about your physical abilities, Hoseok made sure to explain that it was only because Yoongi though highly of you. 

Recently, you’ve been trying your damnedest to try and keep a good profile up for Yoongi as much as possible.  You wanted to impress him and show him you had so much more to offer than just two pretty guns sitting pretty on your thighs.  You wanted to be someone capable and someone Yoongi can rely on. 

Little did you know that Yoongi has been watching you since day one and he’s had enough of you putting yourself through hell.  

“Why are you here?” Yoongi asked as he stood in front of you.  He could see the bags under your eyes and the sheen of sweat from being in this stuffy room for god knows how long now.  He didn’t even see a water bottle around for you to sip on while here.  

“Why else would anyone come to a shooting range, Yoongi?  I’m practicing.” 

“You’ve nearly shot a hole through that target with how many times you hit the same area.  You’re skilled enough as a markswoman.  Take a break.” 

“No,” you defied.  

“Y/n,” Yoongi warned.  He sighed as he grabbed the gun you were shooting from the table and moved you to stand in your slot.  He unlocked the gun and aimed for the head of the metal sheet of a target before opening fire.  

You covered your ears as the shots echoed and reverberated on the walls.  He shot until the gun ran out of bullet and he emptied each magazine laying around.  

The gun was empty and warm when he placed it back down and turned to you again.  He yanked the glasses off your head and took the headphones off your neck before he tossed them onto the table with the discarded gun.  

He took your hand before he started dragging you off.  He stopped as he opened the door and reveal Hoseok twirling a small knife around in boredom. 

“Clean up for her will you,” Yoongi address as Hoseok mosied on inside as Yoongi dragged you off.  You gave up on fighting him not long after he started pulling you along to wherever it was he was taking you.  Not having the energy to fight him off and knowing he was as bullheaded as a bullet, you gave in. 

He made it to his room- a far too grand one to be fair for any person’s sleeping quarters- as he pulled you inside along with him and shut the door behind him.  He pulled you to the bed before he pushed you onto it. 

He rolled over you before he came to lay at your side, holding you down as he held his arms around your waist.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked him. He closed his eyes as he lay on top of his bed comforter with you.  Not even bothering with shimming it out from under you both. 

“Nothing.  Now go to sleep.” 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon?” 

“And you haven’t slept since yesterday.” 

“You... knew about that?” 

Yoongi opened his eyes and looked at you.  “I’ve known everything since you first stepped foot here.  I’ve never looked away from you and I don’t plan to.” 

“What? Is this some sort of confession or something? Because It’s hardly romantic,” you rolled your eyes.  He was charming, but he sorely lacked in any kind of romance based topic. 

“Does a proclamation of something like this need to be romantic?” 

You looked at him.  “You-you're not actually serious are you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You... Do you like me?  Like, like-like me?” 

“Are you in grade school?  No one says ‘like-like’ anymore.  You’re more fluent in your words and yet that’s what you say?” You bicker at him for being a hypocrite as he just laughed at you.  He pulled you further under his chin as he closed his eyes again. “It’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”  

“Love is a strong word, Yoongi.” 

“A strong woman deserves strong words, don’t you agree?” It was silent, yet you didn’t move.  “Y/n?” He called yet still nothing. moving, he smiled when he saw you already sleeping.  Face bright red as your fists held small bits of his shirt to ensure he wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Sleep well my dear,” he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead. “We have much to talk about when you wake up, but no hurry. You’re even more adorable when you’re sleeping in my arms like this. Rest and I’ll be here- always.” 

#suga #min yoongi #yoongi #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfiction #suga fanfic #yoongi drabble #mafia yoongi #drabble #mafia #mafia au #au #strangers to lovers #reader #female reader #x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #reader insert

[eruzasimblr]

YIKES, sorry my lovely peoples, TSR has so many stupid restrictions that I just can’t conform to. Every time I try to upload there I get rejected so I’m fed up and I’ll just keep posting through here and using mediafire. In case you’re wondering, the restriction I’m hitting is too much CC soooo >.>

You can find her here and the list of CC used under the cut <3 I hope you like it!

This sim was so fun to make, I love Billie Eilish and I feel that I did her justice with this sim. I’d like to make a HUGE shoutout to one of my favorite clothing creators @helsoseira because this sim would not be possible without her awesome fashion she’s made. The style is one I use on a lot of my sims but it was especially hard to find clothing that fit Billie’s style and helsoseira’s absolutely nails it. As you can see there is a TON of her CC used on this sim. Please go check out her work on TSR, you won’t regret it! 

Billie Eilish information 

 Aspiration: Musical Genius - Muser  

Traits: Creative - Music Lover - Vegetarian 

Content used under the cut! 

 My Sim Download here: http://www.mediafire.com/file/sryy7njr5qg9e23/Blue_Hair_Billie_Eilish.zip/file

 CAS 

Skin - Spotless Skinblend (DOWNLOAD ALL OF THEM, THEY’RE SO INCREDIBLE!!!) by @nords-sims found here: https://nordsart.blogspot.com/2018/11/spotless-sims-4-cc-skinblend.html Eyes - 

Earth Eyes N98 by @pralinesims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-eyecolors/title/earth-eyes-n98-non-default-%2B-heterochromia/id/1441076/ 

Hair 1 - Chloe Hair by @greenllamas from the 24K Followers Collection found here: https://greenllamas.tumblr.com/post/188004733953/24k-followers-gift-greenllamas-a-big-thank-you 

Hair 2 - Poppy Hair by @pickypikachu found here: http://www.pickypikachu.com/2017/01/poppy-hair-secret-santa-hair.html 

Eyebrows - Fox Eyebrows by @pralinesims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-hair-facial-eyebrows/title/fox-eyebrows-n105/id/1362184/ 

Blush - Blusher N06 by @mercisims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/-Merci-/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-blush/title/blusher-n06/id/1450965/ 

Lipstick - Raspberry Lipgloss N198 by @pralinesims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/artists/Pralinesims/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-lipstick/title/raspberry-lip-gloss-n198/id/1441880/ 

Eyelashes - Kijiko Eyelashes by @kijiko-sims found here: http://kijiko-catfood.com/3d-lashes-version2/ 

Everyday 

Top - PUKO Oversize Hoodie by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/puko–oversize-hoodie/id/1430376/ 

Bottom - VIIA Track Pants by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/viia–track-pants/id/1448751/ 

Shoes - Tolly Boots by @madlensims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/artists/MJ95/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/madlen-tolly-boots/id/1458939/ 

Formal 

Full Body - JANG Oversize Sweater Dress by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/jang–oversize-sweater-dress/id/1445095/ 

Athletic 

Full Body - NIDA - V.2 Goth Shrug dress w/ Leg garter by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/nida–v.2-goth-shrug-dress-w-leg-garter/id/1456485/ 

Socks - JOKO Thigh-High Socks by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-leggings/title/joko–thigh-high–socks/id/1403716/ Shoes - Tess 

Shoes by @madlensims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/artists/MJ95/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/madlen-tess-shoes/id/1439655/ 

(Sleep)ing inside a hearse 

Full Body - MISE Sport Midi Dress by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/mise–sport-midi-dress/id/1415610/ 

When the (Party)’s Over 

Top - Printed Hoodie by @chloem-sims4 found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/ChloeMMM/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/chloem-printed-hoodie/id/1437369/ 

Bottom - DEMO Track Pants by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/demo–track-pants/id/1437869/ 

Shoes - Sergio Sneakers by @madlensims found here: https://thesimsresource.com/artists/MJ95/downloads/details/category/sims4-sets/title/madlen-sergio-sneakers/id/1295732/ 

Swimwear 

Full Body - GAIA Witch Swimwear by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-swimwear/title/gaia–witch-swimwear–fm-/id/1412058/ 

Warm Weather 

Full Body - CARA T-Shirt Dress by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/cara–t-shirt-dress/id/1434316/ 

Cold Weather 

Full Body - CORA Witch Jacket by @helsoseira found here: https://thesimsresource.com/members/Helsoseira/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/cora–witch-jacket/id/1470457/

#ts4 #ts4cc #custom content #cc #ts4mm #billie #eilish #Billie Eilish #sim #download #repost #cas #sims #the sims 4 #sims 4

[hermannsthumb]

OK PART ONE OF HORNY NEWT/HERMANN ASKS IVE GOTTEN SINCE LIKE OCTOBER: CLOTHING (copied and pasted so it’s easier than trying to load a bunch of pictures of asks)

18+/not sfw below cut!

SECTION A: THE PARKA

Anonymous said: Newt wearing Hermann’s parka and nothing else is the equivalent of lingerie.

Anonymous said: Whenever Newt falls asleep on the lab sofa, Hermann will cover Newt up with his parka. Sometimes Newt pretends to be asleep just so he can have Hermann cover him up with Hermann’s perfect parka that’s so soft and warm and smells like Hermann. After they get together (once Hermann realizes how much Newt loves his parka), Hermann will offer it to Newt like a prize. “Darling, if you strip naked, then go put on those pale purple lacy stockings you look so precious in, I’ll let you wear my parka.”

Anonymous said: Newt wearing Hermann’s giant parka with nothing underneath. Hermann loves it.

SECTION B: you are all very horny for hermann in lingerie. and i mean like very

Anonymous said: Newt gets Hermann a pair of pretty lace stockings with a galaxy print. Hermann loves them!

Anonymous said: Newt dresses Hermann up in a pair of frilly stockings and his own leather jacket (which is adorable short on Hermann). Newt really loves the booty out look on Hermann, okay?

Anonymous said: Ugh, Newt putting stockings on Hermann and adjusting them so they’re just right is such a sexy, beautifully intimate mental image.

Anonymous said: What does Newt want for his birthday? “Hermann, baby, go change into that dainty little pink dress with the matching stockings, then lie down on the bed and let me spread your perfect supermodel legs and treat you like precious little slut you are.”

Anonymous said: At least one year on Newt’s birthday, Newt 100% tells Hermann not to do anything. “I’ve got it all covered, babe.” That evening, Newt presents Hermann with the softest, daintiest, prettiest little lacy dress and matching stockings that Hermann’s ever seen. “Hermann, since it’s my birthday, I think you should change into this and let me have my way with you.” “You just want to dress me up and shag me so hard that the neighbors complain about the noise.” “Yeah, sound good?” “It sounds perfect.”

Anonymous said: Oh god, Newt using Hermann as his own personal dress up doll is everything I’ve ever wanted. “Newton, you’re being absurd.” “Do you not want the stockings?” “Of course I want the stockings, but I can put them on myself.” “But I *WANT* to put them on you!” “Oh! Oh, well…(blushes) go ahead then.” “And of course you’ll need me to tie your sash just right.” “Oh, of course.” “It may take a few tries to get it perfect.” “Take as much time as you need, darling.”

Anonymous said: Whenever Newt buys pretty stockings for Hermann, Newt always insists on putting them on Hermann’s legs himself. “Newton, this is hardly necessary.” “Pfft, like I’m gonna miss an opportunity to grope at your sexy supermodel legs. And look at that! I was right about the pale pink! See how nice the color looks with your pale skin and dark hair and your big brown doe eyes?” “Darling, you’re being ridiculous.” “Ooh, I should get ribbons to tie in bows around your throat and wrists!”

Anonymous said: Newt loves seeing Hermann in lovely lacy stockings, not just because Hermann loves wearing them (though that is a factor), and not just because Hermann looks *SO* incredibly gorgeous in lacy stockings (though that is DEFINITELY a VERY BIG factor), but also because Hermann feels confident when he’s wearing lacy stockings. Like, Hermann still loves to play all shy and coy, but Newt knows that a stocking-clad Hermann is a Hermann who wants to get manhandled and fucked good and hard.

Anonymous said: Sometimes Newt comes home like “Hermann, I had a really long day! Can you put on a pretty bralette and some sexy stockings and let me ride your dick?” “…I am certainly not averse to the idea, but will it help you feel better?” “Lots better, dude.” “Then of course. Let me go change. Do you have a specific color you’d like?” “Ooh, can you wear the soft pink bralette and stockings? That’ll be nice and relaxing for me.” “Whatever you want, darling.”

Anonymous said: Newt lives Hermann in dresses, but Newt also super loves Hermann in just one of his delicate frilly/lacy/silky blouses and a pair of pretty stockings. That way, Newt can enjoy Hermann in pretty clothes, AND Hermann with his adorable butt exposed. Hermann’s a little embarrassed at first, but he slowly gains confidence as he sees just how much Newt loves it.

Anonymous said: Newt loves to dress Hermann in pretty little lace bralettes, because Newt knows that Hermann loves the feel of lace against his very sensitive nipples.

Anonymous said: Newt gets Hermann lacy bralettes to wear! (Because lacy bralettes feel so nice and sexy sensual when you have sensitive nipples. Ooh, and silk/satin bralettes! Those are amazing too!)

Anonymous said: Newt gets Hermann a light pink lingerie ensemble, but they don’t get anywhere past just making out because Newt can’t stop cooing over how precious Hermann looks all dolled up pink lace and silk and bows.

SECTION C: also hermann in dresses

Anonymous said: Can I offer a nice mental image: Hermann feeling dainty and feminine but wanting to shake things up a bit, so Newton gets home to find that Hermann’s “"stolen”“ one of his punk outfits, tartan minidress held together by safety pins, and he m a y have had some fun with eyeliner, and Newton practically comes in his pants on the spot :’)

Anonymous said: Newt lacing up Hermann’s dresses is such a lovely thought. Newt loves seeing the pretty fabric mold to Hermann’s trim little waist and slim hips. "Hermann, after dinner, you’re gonna sit down on the bed and hold your skirt up for me like a good boy. You’re gonna be my dessert.”

Anonymous said: Sometimes (only in the privacy of his and Newt’s own space, of course) Hermann wears super short skirts with petticoats (or whatever it is that makes skirts all cute and puffed up) and just bends over a lot, until Newt’s finally like “Okay, you and your cute little butt are coming to bed for some serious make out time.” And Newt, obviously, picks Hermann up and carries him to bed because Newt’s too impatient and he wants to kiss and grope his husband right now dammit.

SECTION D: clothing swappingggg

Anonymous said: Sometimes Newt walks around the house in nothing but one of Hermann’s shirts/sweaters (sometimes to tease Hermann, sometimes just bc Newt’s too lazy to get dressed completely)&it always ends the same way. Hermann holds out for as long as he can, but eventually he just snaps like “Newton, bend over the kitchen table at once!” Newt loves it, he loves when Hermann pounds into him while lecturing him on what a wicked little tease he is & how he should know better & “What am I going to do with you?”

Anonymous said: Once newmann get together, Newt somehow convinces Hermann to wear his (Newt’s) tiny little super tight booty shorts. Once Newt sees Hermann in those itty bitty shorts, Newt immediately forgets every single science thing he’s ever learned.

SECTION E: SOCK GARTERS

Anonymous said: Newt’s kink for Hermann’s sock garters sustains me tbh. “Of course you have to wear sock garters. Must be damn near impossible to find socks that are small enough to stay up on your slender, elegant calves, and your dainty little ankles. But you gotta have tall socks, ‘cause you don’t have any fat to keep you warm. That’s why I’m here, baby. ;) I’m your soft, warm, colorful pillow. ;)”

#maria's newmann blogging #ask #not sfw ////

[styomi]

Request: An inconspicuous little navy skirt | Sweet Pea/OC

AN: This was super fun to write! Welcoming any other requests about these two you might want to see in writing :D

If you’d like to read more about Ruby and Sweet Pea, check out my Masterlist :)

Info:

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea/OC Rating: T Word count: 1373 + 169 bonus

Ask: can i request a fic between your oc Ruby and Sweet Pea where he helps her clear out her closet and cleaning her room?

                                      An inconspicuous little navy skirt

“Keep, toss or donate?” Ruby asked, holding up a short navy skirt. It had a bunch of sparkly stars around the bottom and flared a bit. Sweet Pea tilted his head to the side from his position on the girl’s bed, where he’d been lounging for the past hour and a half.

“I don’t know. If you’d model it…” he trailed off with a small smirk playing on his lips. Ruby groaned, making the tall biker laugh, but she slipped her sweats off and stepped into the skirt. They’d been trying to clear out Ruby’s closet together for the past few hours. However, Sweet Pea was proving to be more of a nuisance than anything. He insisted that he couldn’t help the girl unless she showed him how she looked in every single item she was uncertain about. Most of the modeling ended up with his hands trying to grab her, pull her to him and promptly distract her from any further work.

“So?” Ruby asked, turning in a slow circle. The skirt was quite short, Sweet Pea realized with a small smile and rising eyebrows. It hugged her waist high, quite snugly, and then it flared around her thighs, showing a perfect amount of skin if anyone asked him. But, he still thought that she needed something extra. Something to spice it up.

“I think that that skirt would go perfectly with a pair of heels,” Ruby gave him an unamused look, but went into the storage room which used to be a walk-in closet, but now served as her space for numerous pairs of shoes. Sweet Pea dropped back on the soft pillows and tucked his hands behind his head, waiting with a wide grin. Soon enough, Ruby came out again, this time walking in a pair of red heels skillfully. He gave her an appreciative look, top to bottom and she twirled, humoring the scenario. “If you ask me, the skirt should stay.” Ruby groaned, throwing her head back and sending a ripple through the long wavy hair over her shoulders.

“You’re really not helping, you know?” She smiled, walking over to Sweet Pea. Instantly, he was up from the pillows, sitting at the edge of the bed, legs opening wide to accommodate the girl stepping closer to him. Ruby’s hands came up, trailing up his flannel-clad arms and stopping at his shoulders where she kneaded the flesh gently.

“Let’s be honest, smol,” Sweet Pea whispered, his hands coming up to the bare thighs the skirt exposed and fingers trailing patterns upwards. “You knew what you were getting into when you asked me for help.” He leaned in, waiting for Ruby to bend down, for once, but she didn’t. Instead, she let go of him and walked away, back to her large closet. She bent down, searching through one of the bottom drawers, which made Sweet Pea groan. He had the most perfect view. Ruby red heels, toned bare legs and short navy skirt. He was going to make absolutely certain that she kept that one.

“Close your eyes,” Ruby told him, her face peeking on the side and telling him that she knew exactly what he had been up to with that familiar coy smile. Sweet Pea shut his eyes tightly and even went as far as slapping his hand over them. There was a moment of shuffling before Ruby spoke again. “Do you think I should keep these?” Then, he opened them and his breath was successfully taken away.

Sweet Pea was up on his feet and across the room in mere seconds. Ruby reached up, standing on her tiptoes to accept the kiss. It was hot, open-mouthed and with plenty of tongue. Sweet Pea’s hands didn’t keep still, but went to the small of her back and slid down her skirt, making him bend awkwardly to accommodate the angle. But, when he felt the red lacy garters and thigh-high socks she’d pulled on, it was worth it.

“Keep,” Sweet Pea said in a hoarse voice when they came up for air, taking her hand and pulling her with him to the bed. He sat down again, settling the giggling girl in between his legs and trapping her there with his arms. His hands were back on her thighs, fingers playing with the fabric there, squeezing the flesh occasionally. Then, they trailed up to her backside. “Keep for both.” And Ruby bent down to kiss him, for once.

“What is this?” she asked in between haphazard kisses and groping hands. “An attempt to distract me from my charitable mission of donating to the less fortunate?” Sweet Pea nipped at her neck and trailed down, pulling on her loose top to access more flesh. Ruby felt heat all over her skin as she looked down, seeing his eyes locked on hers and teeth holding onto the red fabric.

“Just attempting to level the height difference,” he cheekily told her when he let go of the top. His hands trailed further up from her skirt, trying to pull the shirt off her small frame. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of short?” Ruby raised her arms to help him take off her shirt and her hands settled back on his shoulders once more, one tangling lazily in his hair, fingers twisting around the longish strands.

“Good that you told me, because I hadn’t noticed.” Their kisses were brief, but numerous, and Sweet Pea kept pulling the girl closer and closer, until her stomach pressed flush against his torso.

“Did you plan this or something?” He asked her, head motioning to her fancy navy bra, which made the girl laugh.

“No, but I’ll try next time?” she offered, giving him yet another kiss. “Maybe I can get a red corset and a whip?” Sweet Pea groaned, his head falling to her neck. “A gag?” At that, he took in a sharp breath. “Or, are you more of a blindfold person? I remember that we both enjoyed that one…” Sweet Pea’s eyes met hers after he took a deep breath of her telltale scent mixed with her usual rich perfume.

“You,” he told her in a strained voice. “Are the literal devil incarnate, you know?” Ruby gave him an absolutely patronizing pat on his head that made him frown.

“They say that dynamite comes in small packages, tol.” She mused with a tilt of her head. Sweet Pea grinned and leaned up to give her another small kiss.

“I thought that quote said that good things come in small packages?” He played oblivious mockingly and Ruby shrugged her shoulders, bringing a finger to her lips.

“So, you want me to be a good girl for you tonight?” She asked in an overly innocent tone that finally made Sweet Pea’s control snap. He grabbed her smaller frame and flipped them over, tossing Ruby onto the soft mattress and looming over her. She shrieked, hands flying to grip his arms tightly, but didn’t seem uncomfortable. So, Sweet Pea decided that it was time to enjoy himself. He pushed her hair back from her neck and bent down, letting his mind float away and simply enjoyed the moment.

Ruby’s hands came up to push his flannel off, shortly followed by his shirt and then she pulled him closer to her, skin meeting skin in an intimate embrace, lips clashing yet again. She managed to toe off her heels and reached for his dark jeans, which Sweet Pea was all too happy to help her push off. But, he stopped her when she reached to unbutton her skirt.

“Leave it.” He gasped out, hand coming to halt her fingers. Ruby’s lips pulled into that coy smile he’d become very familiar with and she slowly kissed him, taking her time to positively torture him.

“Tol is a kinky boy tonight.” She whispered against his lips.

“Tol is discovering that he’s a very kinky boy tonight.” Sweet Pea told her before their teasing conversation was completely forgotten, along with any notion of clearing out Ruby’s closet, as his hand snuck under the fabric and into her underwear. Sweet Pea was only certain of one thing in his mind – she would definitely be keeping the skirt.

This was such a cool thing to try out! It turned a bit steamier than I planned to, but, oh well xD You guys can enjoy the steam ;)

                                                         Bonus

Jo came home around one in the morning, only to hear an unusual sound for that time of day from upstairs. He frowned slightly, tossed his keys on the old shoe organizer and toed off his boots. Then, he slowly made his way up the stairs, a little afraid of what he would find in his daughter’s room. When he knocked on the door, there was no reply. However, as soon as he poked his head in, he saw why. Ruby and Sweet Pea were cleaning, actually cleaning, the top rock classics blasting from her stereo. She was folding her clothes as she sang, tossing them in boxes or her wardrobe and he had a vacuum, trying to get all the dust from under her bed, only to get distracted with a bit of air guitar on the solo riff. Jo shook his head, at both their antics and obviously ruffled hair and clothing, before silently closing the door and deciding to pretend that he’d never witnessed the scene.

Hope you enjoyed!

#styomi #styomi answers #ask me anything #riverdale #riverdale oc #riverdale aesthetic #riverdale drabble #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea oc #sweet pea drabble #sweet pea aesthetic #ruby wolfe #ruby wolfe aesthetic #the wolfe series #writing #fanfiction #bansheehime

[angel-scythe]

Chloe : Chapter 23

Hello, hello!! I think it’s a chapter 23... I’m so bad with number?

I had harsh time lately so I don’t think I’ll be able to participe to rarepairship week as planned but I’ll do my best for the DBH Month in the end. I just need a bit of time...

Anyway, I really love this chapter because it’s full of softness and fluff?

I hope you will love it too.

Just push gentle the door or keep reading?

|  °|

15th December, 20:42

In fact, when Elizabeth didn’t come home, Gavin could stay at work really longtime. It was Felix himself whom forcer the Human detective to leave. If the man didn’t sleep or, at least, rest, he couldn’t do a good job tomorrow when they’ll go to his parents tomorrow. Well, in fact, he didn’t know it was their parents. He seemed to have found they were the criminals since a moment but wanted to let Gavin discover it, for him to be happy, even if he showed regrets for the ST200 drowned. However, he didn’t know Gavin used to be Chloe and Reed preferred that.

So it was this late when Gavin pushed his apartment’s door.

“I’ll take a shower. I’m sweating. And they said it’s Winter? My ass!”

“Will you eat?” Connor asked.

“Yeah probably. Doesn’t swallow a lot of food today.” Gavin took off his pullover and threw him in the sofa.

He already put his jacket at the peg.

“Okay. Do you want me to prepare something?”

“Don’t bother you. I’ll just throw some shit on bread.”

“Okay. Are you sure it would be enough? Maybe you can make a soup or something?”

“I’ll take a look but don’t fucking annoy me,” he said.

He went to Elizabeth’s room to take some stuff.

“Okay.”

Connor sat down in the sofa. He looked as Gavin went back with a new boxer and some covers for the night.

“Take a book or something,” the Human said as he saw the boy looking him.

“If it’s what you want.”

“Okay, you piss me off. What do you want. Don’t think. Quick.”

“Uuh…”

“Not ‘uuh’ what do you want? Don’t think!”

Connor was happy to be surrounded by people like Hank and Gavin. It was easier to really feel alive. Because when he became a Deviant, for him… nothing changed. Everybody at Jericho, or New-Jericho, told him it was really different but not for him. Except the fact he killed Amanda so felt more lost again.

“I’d like to come with you.”

“In the bathroom?”

“Yes. But I don’t want to annoy you.”

Gavin sighed and came in the bathroom. Connor looked annoyed and shy in the same time. The man went out and went again in Elizabeth’s room. This time, the Android was perplexed and followed the new coming and going.

The last time, Gavin didn’t come out from the bathroom but Connor didn’t hear the shower’s sound and he was quite perplexed.

“Are you coming, dipshit? Or I should send you a memo?”

“I can come?”

“Do it before I change my mind.”

Connor got up and took off his shoes to let them with Gavin’s one then entered the room. It was really a little one with the sink almost on top of the WC and a tiny shower closed by a blue shower curtain. The floor was quite wet, probably because the stream would get out. Wash machine and dryer were in the other side with a big basket for dirty clothes and few wire were tender above them to let dry some clothes which couldn’t go to the dryer. And a little radiator finished overcharging the little room.

“You’re sure? I don’t want to bother you…” he said while closing the room.

“Yeah.”

Gavin hesitated few seconds and then came to him. He caught his vest edge then took it off. His hands went then toward the belt which ended in the floor pretty quickly. So, Connor just imitated him since it was what he did the best. Gavin kissed his throat. There was an upgrade Connor didn’t mention to Elizabeth… now he could feel the touch of Gavin’s hands, fingers, lips. And when he wanted to moan, it was only thanks to the kindness, the envy, the lust. Not just because he was happy to share something with the man.

“I took stuff for you but you should think to bring some at yours. This asshole didn’t you offer some fucking clothes?”

Connor felt his tight rose and he put it around Gavin’s waist. He threw the other one to rejoin the first and kissed him while he felt the strange contact of clothes rubbing against his synthetic skin.

“He does. You… want me to put clothes of mine here?”

He let his forehead went against Gavin’s one as he moved just enough to let the man push down his trousers.

“Why not? You passed a lot of your fucking time here and then you should borrow things which belongs to me and people ask themselves.”

“Well… it’s normal?”

Gavin put him down.

“I forget that…”

His fingers came across the garters Connor was wearing to keep his shirt well in place.

“That’s still sexy.”

“I’ll keep wear it, if you want to.”

“Deal,” the man said before putting a kiss on his neck. “But now, do you want me to take it off?”

“Yes.”

The Human pressed the little attach one time, two times, three times and finally fours. Well since the socks got the same, he would do it four times again but for starting, it’ll be here. He unfastened the button and let the clothes slide along his boyfriend arms, putting soft kisses on his skin. It was really soft and he liked to see all the little beauty spot. He took care to kiss each of them. He felt Connor’s hand in his hair and even soft moan. Very cute.

He looked his body, soft, without any hair. He knew it was a body made. Piece by piece and he certainly was made to be beautiful since Elijah had a thing for the beauty. And really… Connor looked perfect.

“Something’s wrong?” the Android asked softly while passing his fingers in the soft Gavin’s hair chest.

He liked this feeling. The feeling of tickling and especially of his circuits warming because Gavin smiled. Despite the fact that the smile was… weird.

“Everything is fucking alright.” He caressed his nape and then kneel, putting kiss on his thigh as he took off the garters.

His lips came toward the down as he felt fingers against his head. The two other garters and the socks fell on the floor as he kissed the inner thigh again and again. Connor closed his eyes as he liked the feeling. Gavin’s hands pressed against his waist and bring him toward the floor to make him end on his laps.

Connor smiled and let a little moan came as the teeth bite his throat then his left shoulder. The Android couldn’t believe it would be as pleasant as that. He could find the pressure of his circuits and it tickled. He felt the cold of the floor as he found his back against the tiles, the man hovering above him.

“I didn’t know it’s like that Human takes shower,” Connor smiled.

“Yeah, not the unusual way. You’re cute. I like to see you there but if you want to take the shower…”

Connor felt something in his boyfriend’s voice.

“I can take my shower after you, if you want.”

“I don’t know… Since we’re there, I’d like to continue but…”

Gavin jammed his teeth and got up a bit.

“Fuck!” he said, going on his knees to push and really got up.

“Do you want… to see my true me? As you’ll do it, I can do it…”

“How’s that?” Gavin frowned.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Connor got up a bit and he touched his temple. Then, his skin disappeared little by little. The only thing that stayed, it was his cheeks, blue. It was obvious he didn’t like to show this part of him.

He remembered well that moment where they forced the Android to be naked. Real naked, until this.

“I’m sorry to show you that…”

“It’s fucking weird but…”

Gavin rose his hands and approached them of Connor’s cheek. The Android nodded and the man touched him. It was weird, colder. And there wasn’t any hair, eyebrow or little beauty spot. He was only white with bar code, number on his… plastic?

“It’s… particular. Really. But…”

He caressed his cheek then his neck.

He looked right in his eyes and could see the soft iris brown. It was the beauty of Connor there. And when he saw the features of Connor changed, he could see his pretty face. Even if it was really weird.

“Okay… my fucking turn.”

Gavin got up and passed his hand on his hair, searching for courage. Connor was sit on the ground.

“Do you want to put your skin back?”

“I’ll wait.”

Connor put his hands on the edge on his slip.

“Do you want we’re doing together?”

“Yeah.”

Gavin felt stupid but it was something very important to him. It was something he wasn’t and he knew it was the same for Connor when he removed his skin. So, he should show the monstrosity of his lowest part to the Android but he hated it for so long. And he hated that David already saw this. He would have wanted someone didn’t know…

In the end, Connor was just like David. He knew from the beginning and it was hard because he couldn’t feel himself like a man. Like the man he was. The ghost of Chloe was still there and it was horrible.

“One…” he said.

“Two,” Connor accompanied.

Gavin took a long breath.

“Three.”

The underwear went down and finished in the floor. Connor got up and passed his arms around Gavin’s shoulders.

“You didn’t…”

“Didn’t need it. But I want you to feel able to, if you want or need. I saw the nudity you didn’t want me to see long ago and I know your past… partly.”

Gavin moved his fingers on his temple, trying to put the skin back, to let Connor feel better. The Android brought the hand on his LED.

“There.”

The skin came back.

“Do I look better now?”

Gavin touched his chest, where the heart was in a Human body.

“You look nice.”

Connor took his hand to put it on his belly, where the pump was.

“There.”

“You fucking piss me off right now, you plastic prick.”

“I’m sorry!”

Gavin took his hand.

“There, it’s okay?”

“It is,” Connor smiled.

The man dragged him toward the shower cabin then tugged on the plastic curtain.

“The water always piss me off, it’s hard to have a nice temperature. Too cold in Winter, too hot in Summer.”

“Okay. But can’t feel it. It would be stupid because of the work.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Gavin turned on the water and the stream was really cold and he shivered. Connor hugged him and looked him in the eyes. Their hair, because of the water, paste against their forehead and the Human pushed a lock on the soft Connor’s visage.

“Let’s showered quickly and just quit this fucking shit.”

“Yes, if it’s what you want.”

“I want to leave this fucking shit and roll under cover.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Yeah, why not.”

Connor smiled and pressed a soft kiss on his lips then retreated a little bit. Gavin took the shampoo to put it in his hair, ruffling them. Now he didn’t smoke anymore, even if he liked to chew gum in moment of great tense, and you could feel it in his smell however, right now, he tried to took off the smell of Kamski’s house because it make him feel weird.

He was happy to see his brother and… it couldn’t because it wasn’t him. And he saw him bad because of him.

It was a shitty day. Even if Connor loved him.

He saw the soft brown eyes.

“Come here!”

He took him against his chest and put his hands on his hair. Connor laughed and accepted the man to shampoo his hair. He kissed his lips as the soap stream on their face.

#it's on ao3 #Transgender #Fluff #Softness #rareship #Convin #Gavnor #Gavin reed #Chloe #Connor rk800 #Gavin x Connor #love #I love this ship so much

[leigh-kelly]

An Old Familiar Score, I Know it All Too Well

#Brittana #starlight!verse #fire island brittana #1940s fire island