#grey's kinktober

[earlgreydream]

hi! please tell me what you want to see on my KINKTOBER MASTERLIST with this FORM HERE

#grey's kinktober #kinktober 2022

[ozarkthedog]

summary: dieter insists you try some of his stash.

kinktober i: drug use

warnings: 18+ only. mdni. morally gray!dieter bravo x fem assistant!reader. slight dubcon. drug use (coke). coercion. fingering. oral sex (fem receiving). cumming untouched. no beta.

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i've had this thot since i saw the movie. sry not sry. “disaster racoon” via @ghotifishreads 💙

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“C’mere, pretty girl, want you to try something.” Dieter beckons from a dimly lit corner of his suite. 

The hotel door makes a deafening thud as it shuts. The supple carpet feels divine on your bare feet but the dark gold color palette of the room along with the heady smell unsettles you.

He sinks into the lush couch with a sigh draped in a brown fur coat. He looks rough around the edges. Long days on set with nothing to do in between takes have taken a toll on him. 

He leans over a glass coffee table that’s littered with sordid paraphernalia and snatches a small, black vile. In his haste, he knocks over a bottle filled with tiny pills sending them rolling in different directions. 

“Shit-” He scrambles to catch them as they roll off the table and onto the rug below. He waves his hand dismissively at the floor and sends you a quirky smile. “We’ll find ‘em when we need ‘em.” 

You politely smile before shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You were unsure why the Oscar winner had invited you up to his room. You’d chatted with him a few times since the movie began production but not to the point where you thought you should be alone with him.

Constantly shifting your eyes from the illusive man to the carpet and back again. He hums a tune you’ve never heard as he taps out the contents of the black vile. The melody sticks like molasses in your brain.

Dieter taps a little mound of white onto one of the various script edits before flicking his eyes up to you. He ponders for a moment, his eyes blinking slowly behind his dark brown shades before he snaps back to reality.

He points to the small pile of powder with a grin, “Have you ever tried this?”

“What is it?” You eye him  suspiciously.

He slowly licks his lips as they pull into a sly grin, “Cocaine.” 

“Uh, no. I don’t do drugs.” You answer, hugging your arms around yourself.

He tuts and cocks his head. “That’s a shame. They’re really fun.”      

Wariness slinks up your spine as he bends his head to the script and snorts loudly, sucking up some of the power in one inhale before collapsing back onto the couch. A deep, satisfied groan rumbles from his bare chest as his fur coat splays open and exposes his almost naked body aside from his gray boxers.

You gather up the nerve to speak after a few uncomfortable, silent minutes. “Did you call me up here for a reason, Mr. Bravo?”

“Wanted someone to keep me company.” He drawls, rubbing a hand through his auburn curls. “That’s not so bad is it?” He flashes his teeth in a silly grin before sitting up suspiciously fast.

“C'mere. Try it.” He offers, pointing to the script. “Got all night to let loose.”

“I don’t think so.” You softly reply. You curse yourself for not sounding stronger.

“Come on. One lil’ sniff.” 

“Dieter, please.” You bite your tongue in frustration. 

But he was right. You did need to let loose. The director told you to take some time for yourself when they weren’t filming. But doing drugs with Dieter Bravo of all people? You didn’t see that as a part of your self care routine.

Still. The itch to unwind and have fun called to you. 

You sigh through your nose and give one last vain attempt. “I don’t feel comfortable inhaling your script coke.” You say dismissively, waving a careless hand at the table.

“There is another way…” He trails off with a smirk, like a cat that got the cream. His eyes slink down your body and narrow in on your hands that are folded perfectly in your lap. 

“Lie back and spread your legs.” Dieter says with a tilt of his head as he shuffles from his seat and kneels on the ground next to you. 

Your mind short circuits. “Excuse me?” You gasp, incredulously. 

He quirks a brow. “You didn’t want to snort it, so your bloodstream is the next best option.”

Another gasp tears from your throat. “You mean?”

“That’s right.” He raises his hand, wiggling 2 thick fingers in front of your face. “I’ll push a tiny bit of the coke into your pussy.” He says, nonchalantly before continuing. “Takes a bit longer but you should start feeling really good in about half an hour.”

Nervous laughter bubbles up your throat. Not only were you considering doing drugs with Dieter, now the award winning actor was going to finger you too.

“Come on. It’s just a little bit of coke.” He emphasizes with a pinch of his fingers. “You need a break. I can see it on that pretty face of yours. You’re begging to break free.”

Great. This disaster racoon of a man could read you like a book. This is just what you needed.

You grit your teeth but succumb to the pressure of the handsome man. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just do this.”

Dieter snickers and claps his hands together. “Thatta girl!”

You sink into the oversized chair with your heart in your throat and pray you survive the night.

The older man tenderly slides his hands up your bare legs, drawing patterns where your skirt meets your thighs before pushing the thin material up exposing your panties.

You lock eyes with him as his fingers dance over the soft cotton. Dragging out the inevitable, and driving you crazy, he finally slides your panties down and pockets the fabric without you noticing.

Dieter takes a long beat to stare at your exposed core. He makes no attempt at hiding his gaze before sending you a wink. “This’ll be fun.”

You swallow down the anxious lump in your throat and try to relax into the plush cushion.

Dieter gently drags his fingers up the naked seam of you before teasing one finger between your folds. Duel moans fill the room as he swiftly adds a second heavy finger into your channel, opening you up for him. 

He thrusts lazily into your core, getting his fingers nice and wet with your shiny slick. Your eyes open when your core suddenly feels empty and watch him roll those two same sticky fingers in a small pile of coke.

“Ready?” He asks as he turns back to his place between your legs.

Your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips before sending him a nod.

“I’ve got you.” He reassures with a fond tone.

He parts your folds with his other hand and slowly presses his drug coated fingers into your warmth. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out and his knuckles are seated against the rump of your ass.

Dieter hisses when you involuntarily clench. “Shit–”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.” You mumble, trying to stay as still as possible despite having an A-List Actor literally pump drugs into you.

“Don’t be.” He purrs and starts thrusting his fingers in and out ever so slowly. 

Your breath hitches as he slides his fingers along your velvet channel. The pressure tugs deep in your belly and you can’t help but mewl under his touch.

“Is this part of it?” You squeak as he slots the pad of his thumb over your clit and swirls tight circles over the tiny button.

“The quicker you relax the better you’ll feel.” He insists as he watches his fingers disappear between your dripping folds.

You notice behind his shades that his pupils are blown wide and he looks just as wrecked as you. Dieter groans when your hips rise and chase his touch, greedy for more.

“Feelin’ good, pretty girl?”  

The older man grazes a spot that sucks the air from your lungs. You writhe on the chair and wrap your legs around his broad shoulders before you realize what you’re doing.

Your blood boils and turns to raspberry jam as the drug begins to take effect. Every nerve in your body shimmers and you feel like you can run a marathon and fly at the same time. 

Your shirt feels tight and restrictive. The room feels 10x hotter than it did when you first arrived. In a rush, you yank your blouse off your body and sink back into the chair with only your bra remaining as the air cools your sweltering flesh.

“Fuck, Dieter.” You rasp as the pleasure mounts. 

“That’s it. Let the drug work its magic.” He breaks free from your legs, sliding his fingers out from your warmth. You whine from the loss and he playfully tsks at you. 

“Hold still, pretty girl. Don’t wanna make a mess.” He smothers your exposed core with a heavy palm coated in white. “Perfect, puffy pussy. All ripe and juicy.” He groans before slotting his searing mouth over your core.

You moan wantonly as he eats you alive. He’s like a man untamed as he licks from your wet puckered hole to your throbbing clit. His tongue finds every white morsel and swallows it down along with your slick. He teases your opening with his tongue before pushing into your heat and groaning into your folds. 

Your fingers dig into his messy curls as you ride out your pleasure on his 

face. His mustache tickles your tiny nub eliciting silken bliss to race up your spine.

“Come in my mouth, pretty girl. Wanna feel you fall apart.” He says, tearing himself away from your drenched core for a moment before diving back in like a man who's gone without water for days. 

At his words your brain shuts down. The surge of adrenaline mixed with lust fogs your senses and you drown in mind numbing pleasure.

You come with a ragged wail, humping Dieter’s face like it was your last act in this world. A deep, ravenous growl rumbles in his chest and his fingers dig into your thighs as his body shakes between your legs. He greedily swallows down the heady mix of your slick and the drug, lapping up every drop he can.

“Dieter, that was-” You search for the right words but they elude you. Your nerves feel like they're being pumped full of sunlight and it distracts you. All you can do is sigh and catch your breath.

Your eyes whip open when you hear the man curse. “What is it?” Everything alright?”

The lower half of his face is shiny with hints of white nestled in the corners of his mouth. “Came in my goddamn boxers.” He grumbles.  

You can’t help but laugh as he drags you off the chair and into his lap. He wraps his fur coat around your naked frame and nuzzles your head into his chest. 

“See? Drugs aren’t so bad.” Dieter quips.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌 send me mail

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#dieter bravo #morally grey!dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #kinktober 2023 #pedro pascal

[anki-of-beleriand]

Taking care

Summary: Wanda was your special little girl, she just needed to realize for you to take what was rightfully yours.

Pairing: Daughter!Wanda Maximoff xStepmother!Reader

Warnings: Older Reader, young Wanda, not age specified, fingering (W receiving), Oral (W receiving), praise, controling behaviour, possessive behaviour, Wanda is a virgin on this one, dirty talk, sort of cheating. sort of Grey Reader.

Author's notes: In the spirit of Stepmother!Reader and Daughter!wanda, I decided to give it a try with some mentions of Nat. Do tell me if you like the story.

Please remember that English is not my mother tongue and this has not been edited. So forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Ever since you and Natasha got married, Wanda had been like a lost puppy around you. At first it was cute, she would come to you with her dark make up, her little skirt and black clothing trying to keep up the appearance of the rebel teenager while driving Natasha through the walls and making feel needy.

You didn't know if she did it on purpose or not, Wanda was a mystery to you ever since the both of you met. Natasha had told you the story of how she came to be under her care, and the tragedy surrounding her life. And while Wanda liked to act tough and difficult, while she loved creating mayhem around her, teasing girls and boys alike, getting drunk and smoking pot to drive Natasha mad while pretending to be a tough slut...you knew better.

Wanda was your little girl.

And she was as innocent as every teenage girl and young adult ought to be.

Whenever Natasha was not around, which was quite often, she would come to you shy and almost tentative, leaning into your touch and affection. You knew Wanda was needing something in her life, some kind of control and affection no one was capable to provide. No one but you.

So you started a tentative path with her.

It was innocent at first, since you knew she was following you around the house whenever she could you started brushing your skin against hers, whispering sweet praises in her ear while placing your hand carefully on her lower back bringing her closer. You went out with her buying her clothes and jewellery, enjoying movie nights all the while leaving featherlike touches on her skin, getting to know the places that made her submit to you without being too intimate in your touch.

Now, you were in love with Natasha. Yes. The woman was pure fire and your relationship with her was passionate.

But Wanda was...she was sweet.

Temptation.

A sin.

And you were willing to sin for her.

The breaking point was when she was back from college, Christmas break was usually the time of the year in which Natasha would always be at home. But that year an important business back in Ukraine made her stay behind, and it was only you and Wanda.

The young woman was in her room, she had spent most of her break in there and as you tried to find out her mood changes you realized it was something that had happened with that fucking idiot of a boyfriend she had gotten out of spite. Out of jealousy, out of you telling her no.

"Hey, princess, brought you chocolate with marshmallows, the way you like it." You furrowed your brows, Wanda looked away wiping the tears falling down her cheeks while trying to pretend everything was fine.

"Thank you."

You approached her sitting closer to her that was probably necessary, your hand went to her thigh while your other hand brushed away the strands of hair on her face. She was flustered, and there was sadness and need in her green eyes. You felt heat pooling down in your crotch, she was beautiful allright, innocent and so ready to be broken you had to contain to not press further.

"What happened, Princess?" You whispered tenderly, leaning in knowing how much she submitted to you when your lips are so close to her ear. "I don't like seeing you like this, and you have been sad since you got home. Is it because of Natasha?"

Wanda tensed scowling deeply while looking away, "no."

But it was one of the reasons why she was so mad, you pursed your lips your hand grabbing her jaw tenderly making her looked into your eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, for the very first time noticing just how close to her you were, how the hand on her thigh started drawing circles on her inner skin moving dangerously close to her core.

"Wanda, if you don't tell me what has you like this, I can't help. Tell me, Little Witch, what happened?" Wanda melted into your hands, her lips curling lightly under the nickname you only used whenver you were alone with her.

She had blushed so much that day, and you two had slept on the same bed as you whispered in her ear how she was magical, and such an amazing little girl, your Little Witch. It usually led to you placing sweet kisses on her face, your fingers and hands caressing her without making any real advances on Wanda. You knew by the end of the day, when she was fast asleep in your arms, that Wanda was highly aroused and ready to do anything you ask of her. But you were patient, and while you did touch her in her sleep, and discovered just how wet she got with your games, you needed to make sure Wanda would be yours forever.

Perhaps, now was the right time?

Wanda leaned nuzzling her face to yours, trembling as her hands went to your shoulders putting you closer.

"I just...Vis broke up with me." She whispered, you tensed clenching your jaw at the mention of the stupid boyfriend. Wanda's face fell leaning back she cup your face, trembling as her eyes locked with yours. "I'm sorry, mommy, I know you don't like hearing about him, I just..."

God, Wanda was going to be the dead of you.

"No, Little Witch, don't be sorry, I just...I would never want to see you cry for an idiot like him. He is the one who loses, Wanda, not you." You tried to offer a smile, but Wanda was already lowering her gaze with new tears in her eyes.

"He...He broke up with me because I didn't want to sleep with him."

Your stomach clenched at the revelation, your hand on her thigh grasped her making Wanda whimpered slightly, her cheeks burning under the touch while her face lifted up to yours.

"Then, he is even more of an idiot, and I'm so proud of you my Little Witch." You replied caressing her face, Wanda leaned into your touch. "No one should make you have sex with them unless you want to."

Wanda chewed on her lower lip, glancing down then up at you.

"What if...what if the person I want to...to..." Wanda blushed profusedly as she spoke, you were so close to her you could make out her features, the way her eyes darkened and you knew your patience was running thin. "What if the person I want to make love to me doesn't want me?"

You chuckled at her choice of words, she lowered her gaze but once more you lifted her face to yours with your free hand.

"Then, Little Witch, they are idiots and don't deserve you. Why would no one want to be with you?" You asked and almost froze at her next words.

"Mommy, do you want me?" She asked with such an innocence behind her features, with such a small tone of voice that you couldn't help but leaned in and sealed your destiny.

You could wait no longer.

Your lips crashed against hers in a heated kiss, Wanda melted right away letting out sweet whimpers while her hands wrapped around your neck putting your closer. Your hand on her thigh did her final travel all the way up until your were cupping her uncovered pussy.

"Fuck, Little Witch, why don't you have panties on?" You frowned keeping your hand on her bald pussy, Wands humping your hand holding onto your neck looking at you with a silent plea in her eyes.

"I was...I was hoping, mommy. I'm always hopping you will touch me, and...that you will love me the way you love mamma." She whispered back, and you groaned letting a single digit pressed on her clit.

Wanda bucked her hips throwing her head back, you leaned forward placing sweet kisses down her throat, nibbling and sucking making sure to apply the right preassure without leaving any mark.

At least, not for now.

"My little Witch, I love you so much...More than I love Mamma, and if we do this, Wanda, you are going to be mine." You growled out, taking her earlobe between your lips. "Do you understand what I mean? No one is going to be allowed to touch your little cunt, and you will belong to me in body and mind, Princess."

"Yes, mommy I am...I am yous always have...I..." Wanda could barely form words, your hand and fingers drawing lazy circles on her inner thighs, your lips nibbling teasingly on her skin. "I have never...you mommy, I'm yours."

You stopped all movement altogether, your eyes darkening at the almost confession. Wanda whinned when you stepped back, your eyes roaming on her body, dishevelled so debouched waiting for you to take her in ways you had only dreamt on. Your hand went to your shirt, unbuttoning your shirt.

"Take your clothes of, Wanda, I'm going to make you mine today, Princess."

It took her less than you thought it would for her to be naked writhing under you, she was so obedient lifting her arms above her head as your lips went down her body.

"Such a beautiful girl, baby. Mommy is going to possess you today and every day, until you're just a dumb little slut for her." You whispered loving the way Wanda begged to be just your dumb, little slut.

Today you would make her feel and experience what you could give, your lips curling up into a smirk, Natasha wouldn't be home in the next couple of weeks so you would have the time to mold her into your perfect little slut. But for now...

"Mommy!" Wanda scramed out, two fingers went right into her tight hole, you groaned out sucking on the skin on her hips curling your fingers inside her moving them in and out of her thight hole. You had to contained yourself when you realized she was tighter than normal, blood pouring faster, maiking your heart almost burst out of your chest.

"Wanda, you are so tight, little witch." You moaned out lowering your mouth. "I knew you were my little girl, baby. Only mine, to break, only mine to possess, only mine to love."

"Yours mommy, no one elses. I'm mummy's forever," She moaned out looking at you with big innocent eyes and you almost came with the sight.

"Mommy is going to make you feel good, baby, and then after you have recover, mommy is going to use her big cock to claim you completely."

Wanda whimpered again lifting her hips, throwing her head back just as your curled your fingers touching the spongy place inside her over and over.

"Would you like that, Little Witch? Mommy, fucking you with her big cock, staying inside you all night, even sleeping in you so I can use you all over again?"

"Mommy, mommy..." Your name came like a mantra and you knew Wanda was completely yours.

Leaning in your lips wrapped around her clit, your fingers moving faster and harder. She was screaming by now, her hand on your hair as you suck on her clit, sensing the tension in her body, how her inner walls suck you in deeper until she couldn't scream any longer, arching her back, jerking her hips cumming all over your mouth.

You smirked feeling her returned your kiss, tasting herself on you. Breathing hard she snuggled closer, your arms wrapped around her.

"Mommy, I'm yours, always have." She whispered palcing kisses on your neck and face. "Are you...are you mine?"

You chuckled shaking your head, Wanda's eyes dropped but you captured her lips into yours.

"I'm yours and mamma, Little Witch, you two are my special girls and mommy is going to make the both of you loved." You replied, Wanda seemed to think it over before nodding. "But you are my special girl this holidays, and I will enjoy our time together so rest, baby because after this I will buried my cock deep inside you and I won't stop until I am the only think you can think of."

Wanda let out a whine feeling as your fngers once more found her cunt, entering two at once.

"Go to sleep, little witch, let mommy take good care of you."

#Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader #Daughter!Wandaxstepmother!reader #WandaxReader #wanda maximoff #Grey Reader #Smut #Wanda Smut #Possessive Reader #Innocent Wanda #Wanda Maximoff x F!reader #Kinktober

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! Can I please request Finrod x reader (loved your mark of the werewolf headcanons) for the breeding kink, where even though he does not transform, he's in a sort of rut/heat because of the mark and the reader (AFAB) helps him through it/mates with him?

Aha. You have great taste, I see.

"Strange needs"

Pairing: Re-embodied Finrod x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV) | Location: Grey Havens

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Heat/Rutting | Kissing | Explicit Language | Breeding kink | Marking/Hickies | Penetrative sex | Rough sex | Cream pie

Summary: Experiencing the effects of the mark left on him for the first time, Finrod has to turn to someone else for relief.

Word count: 1.3k+ words

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥 | Minirs DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: I wrote from the point of Finrod experiencing this for the first time.

The world had changed since he walked it last.

Finrod, too, had changed, and in ways he did not consider possible. A mark was upon him. It was the burden he had to bear upon his return to Middle-Earth. He could feel it in the strange beat of his heart. It was there whenever he examined himself in a silvered looking glass, and his eyes blazed like twin flames. They blazed when he was wroth, and they blazed when passions were inflamed. The former he fought to control, and succeeded. The latter on the hand…

The latter could not be suppressed. And there were certain times—not always, but certain times—when the call to lose himself in the flesh of another was unbearable. Finrod did not know what it meant. All he knew was that it frightened and shamed him. He could not approach the healers; none had dealt with an elf that had borne the mark of a werewolf. He could not approach Círdan either. His host departed on an urgent matter, bidding him to stay behind. That was nigh on a year ago, just after Finrod arrived and became better acquainted with Círdan and all those who dwelled with him. Until he returned, Finrod could do nothing but bear it all in silence, sometimes disappearing into the woods surrounding the Grey Havens. To see the world anew, he would say, making his excuses. The others would accept it and go about their day. He would walk and walk and walk until he was far away from prying eyes. Desperate for some relief, he would lean against a tree, his hand moving to rest between his thighs. The peace that followed was welcomed but brief. The call always returned and was always fiercer than before. This was how it was, and how it continued, until one of the Edain, a maiden that served in the kitchens, came upon him while looking for herbs. Finrod, thoroughly ashamed after being found out, ashamed of his weakness, confessed and laid his secrets bare. You were willing enough to hear him out. You even agreed to help him.

He was reluctant and unsure. Both of you were not wed, had made no promises to each other. Still, you insisted. It would be better to have this hunger satisfied now, you counseled, and with a bedmate who was willing and agreeable. Why wait until the strange needs that plagued him overwhelm him completely?

Finrod retreated to his chambers. He kept away from you and the others while he thought and thought. He pondered what you said, and for many days on end. He considered refusing. It was dishonorable, was what it was. He felt like he was taking advantage. Then he remembered the vicious tug, the need that would lash at him like a whip without warning. Would it truly be wise to ignore it, allow it to consume him to the point of madness? Where it may result in him doing something that could cause irreparable harm because he could no longer control himself? Finrod knew he could not let that happen. He found some wisdom in what you said. Finally, he sought you out and came to your chambers while the others were in the feasting hall, singing. The sounds that carried all over Círdan’s great home were wondrous to the ear, and hopefully, Finrod thought, loud enough to drown out all else.

Permission was sought. Permission was willingly given. His entire body was on fire, and filled with the unmistakable desire to just take and take and take, until there was nothing left for him to devour. He bent down to kiss you, his mouth tasting of wild berries and rich red wine, his touch impatient and greedy. He yearned to be gentle, to take things as slowly as he could possibly manage, but when his lips pressed against yours, when a strangled whimper greeted him, the need to sate the hunger that burned within rose to claim him, making him forget himself. Your dress lay in a ruined heap. His own raiment was right beside it. He threw his arms around you, lifted you, and carried you to bed.

All thoughts of proper behavior abandoned him. Finrod kissed you, hot, hungry, and demanding. The words that parted his lips were shocking.

“From this night forth, you are mine.”

“Take it all inside you. I insist.”

“See how well you take my cock. It is as if you had been made for me.”

He would brush his nose against your throat, your arms, as if he were drinking in your scent. He sucked down on tingling flesh, his teeth leaving a mark all of their own. Your skin was soon covered in bruises. It did not matter. You would simply cover them with longer sleeves, a high-necked collar, and with the seasons having changed and the days growing exceedingly colder, no one would have reason to question you.

Finrod rolled his hips, moaning softly whenever he sheathed himself in the wet heat of your cunt. The warmth of your body, its softness, the lushness that engulfed him, and the limbs that entwined around him were all that he had craved for and more. His lips plundered without end. His hand streaked down and your breast filled his palm, its hardened peak filling his mouth. Your moan was low and animal-like, as intoxicating to him as fine wine. You drew him closer, arching your back, crying out his name, crying out in ecstasy. The first orgasm struck you quickly, like a bolt of lightning. It was wholly unexpected, a shock to you both.

"Eager for my seed already," he growled against your throat. "That is what you want, yes?"

"Not just your seed." You whined softly when teeth nipped at your flesh, and confessed. “I will not lie when I say I have always desired you, my lord.”

Finrod shivered, half-whispering words in a tongue you did not know. The language was ancient, from another time and place, but they were tender, and as sweet as honey. They brought about fresh needs, feeding them until they had you ensnared in their grip, and left you helpless. Finrod took you up, taking you higher and higher; his rhythm was ceaseless. A new wildness came over him, one that was both swift and brutal. Losing himself in the flesh of another was no longer enough. He wanted to fill you with his seed. He plunged deep and plunged hard, your name coming out like a sob. He rose to his knees and took you with him. 

The room felt like it was spinning, and turning faster and faster. Your rhythm matched his, desperate, frantic, your vision blurring and dimming. Finrod latched onto the crook of your throat. The sting of his teeth grazing tender flesh was barely felt. He took you higher still, over the peak and over the edge, until you were falling into a darkened chasm of euphoric bliss. Finrod could no longer constrain himself. He allowed himself to shatter against the rocks and surrendered without shame. With one last glorious thrust, he emptied himself inside of you. 

Outside, the others were still singing. No one had come to knock on your doors. Finrod slowly dragged himself out of the fog that had surrounded him. He opened his eyes, found yours fixed on his. His hand slowly moved to rest over your belly. A smaller one moved his. It was yours. 

Finrod reflected on his actions, on what just happened, and on the consequences of the choice you both made. Desire and need receded. Shame slowly took its place.

What have I done?

His hunger had been sated, but at what cost? And would this be the end of it at last? Finrod suspected it would not, not as long as he bore the mark of the beast he slew. He now knew he would need you near him, and that was not all. He needed to speak to your kin, and soon. He had to protect you, your honor. He also had questions. 

"About what you said earlier," he began, and touched your cheek. His palm was so warm, it reminded you of the fine bolts of silk merchants brought with them to the Grey Havens. "About you always desiring me. Is that true?"

"Yes," you reply, hoping this encounter will not be the last and that something deeper and more meaningful may come out of it. Being with him had been your greatest wish for almost a year, ever since he first arrived. Such wishes had treated as a fool's dreams, and dismissed as such. Finrod was a high elf. You were a daughter of the Edain. Never did you truly believe he would even consider you until tonight. "From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my lord."

Finrod nodded, and made a decision. "Tomorrow you will take me to your kin. I will speak to them, and make the necessary arrangements. Everything will have to be hurried along. There will be a great many questions, I am sure, and I insist on answering them myself. I hope you understand why. For now, tell me more about yourself, y/n."

#Finrod #finrod smut #Re-embodied finrod #finrod imagine #finrod x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request #The grey havens #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #💫a world of whimsy writes

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

You Need A Real Man

Kinktober 2022 - Day 18 

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Married!Fem!Reader

Kink: Cuckolding 

Words: 1.9k

Summary: Your husband is an asshole and Lloyd promises to help you get rid of him but before you two decide to humiliate him. 

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, creampie, slight vaginal fingering, cuckolding), humiliation, slight violence, Lloyd being sweet to the reader, reader’s husband is an asshole, slight domestic violence, cheating, small bit of fluff

a/n: Here is day 18! This is my first time writing Lloyd so I hope I did justice! I hope you enjoy!

Banner by @vase-of-lilies​ 

You sighed as you watched your pig of a husband eat across from you and you sipped your wine quietly as you tried not to gag at him stuffing his face. You two sat in silence only the sounds of him eating and utensils clinking filled the quiet dining room, until the house phone started ringing. You were quick to get up and you answered the phone in the kitchen, just wanting to be away from your husband. 

You pressed the receiver to your ear, “Andrews’ residence.” You said into the phone as you twirled the cord between your fingers.

“Hey, darlin.” Lloyd smirked as he heard your sweet voice. 

“Lloyd.” You hissed into the phone as you peered around the corner to make sure your husband wasn’t listening. “What did I tell you about calling my home phone?” 

Lloyd chuckled as he heard you, “Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I knew you were home and I was gonna come over.” 

“Lloyd, you can’t, my husband is home.” You sighed as you leaned against the wall with your eyes trained on the dining room door.

He rolled his eyes at your words, “So? Why don’t you just tell your cunt of a husband that you found someone better?” He smirked even though you couldn’t see him.

“It’s not that easy, I have a reputation to uphold before I get rid of him.” You whispered as you watched the door and you heard Lloyd chuckle on the other line. 

“How about I come over we tie him up and I fuck you before we kill him?” He suggested making you smirk and you bit your lip as your thighs clenched softly. 

“Mm, I like that idea. You can come over.” You smirked and you heard your husband finish dinner and he called for you to clean up his plate, making you scoff. “I’ll see you when you get here.” You sighed before hanging up and you walked to the dining room.

“Who were you talking to?” Your husband asked with an impatient tone.

“Joan from next door. She was talking about the block party.” You shrugged as you leaned over and grabbed his plate, but he grabbed your wrist.

“You better not be lying to me.” He growled at you and you sneered at him as you yanked your wrist out of his grip. 

“You don’t control me.” You growled as you pulled away and walked to the sink and you washed the dishes before you heard your husband behind you and he smacked you hard across the face.

“You don’t speak to me like that, don’t forget whose ring is on your finger. I won’t hesitate to put you in your place.” He growled at you and you laughed in his face before he punched you. 

You growled and shoved him away, “You fucking asshole.” You sneered as you wiped blood off your nose. He grabbed you by your hair and pulled you out of the kitchen and towards the stairs before the doorbell rang, making him turn to you and let go of your hair. 

“You better keep your damn mouth shut.” He huffed before leaving you to open the front door to reveal Lloyd. “Mr. Hansen? What are doin’ here this time at night?” 

Lloyd smirked before punching your husband in the face hard, “I’m here to fuck your wife better than you can.” He said before he grabbed your husband’s wrist and turned him around before cuffing him. “And you’re going to watch.” He smirked before he dragged your husband into the dining room with you following and he shoved him into the chair at the head of the table. You sniffled softly as you wiped the blood from your nose and you fixed your hair before Lloyd turned to you. “Sweetheart, don’t cry over him. He ain’t worth it.” He sighed as he cupped your face gently. 

You sniffled before shaking your head, “Fuck, you’re right.” You sighed as you rested your forehead against his chest and he kissed your head. “Can’t let that bastard get to me.” You whispered as you looked up at him and he chuckled and nodded. 

“That’s right. You don’t need him. You only need yourself and me.” He winked with a smirk making you giggle softly and you kissed his cheek.

“I don’t need you but I don’t like having you around.” You smirked as you kissed on his jaw and nipped softly, making him groan quietly. 

“You’re such a minx.” He groaned as you kissed on his neck and he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I’m gonna show your pathetic husband who you really belong to.” He smirked before he pinned you against the doorway of the dining room and his hands trailed up your skirt. He kissed your lips passionately as you cupped his face and his hands ripped off your panties. 

“Come on, Lloyd. Don’t be a fucking tease. I’m not in the mood.” You huffed as his thick fingers teased your folds and your little sensitive bud. He chuckled as he kissed down your neck and he bit on your neck. 

“Fine, just because it’s been too fucking long.” He growled against your skin and his fingers slid in between your folds and he teased your bud softly, rubbing your clit with light pressure. You let out a soft moan as you leaned into his lips as they explored your neck. 

“Mm, fuck, babe… want you.” You whined quietly as you felt him continue to rub your clit before he slid a finger into your tight cunt. He curled his finger up just right to rub your sweet spot that made you whine before moaning loudly. He kissed up your neck and jaw to kiss your lips passionately and with such love that you could never imagine. You shoved his jacket off as your hips grinded down on his hand and you kissed him deeper as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Let’s get you out of this dress, babygirl. Show this pathetic cuck all the places he won’t touch, ever again.” He growled against your lips and you pulled back to unzip your dress and Lloyd quickly ripped it off of your body including your bra. He has seen your bare body multiple times but he still marvels over your bare and soft body. He was quick to rip his sweater over his head leaving him in his white tank top, and you ran your hands over his thick rippling muscles. 

You purred softly as you watched his muscles flex under your palms and you looked over at your husband and smirked. “You see this? This is a real man. Not you, you cunt.” You spat at him as Lloyd kissed on your neck and his hands moved to unbuckle his slacks before unzipping his pants. “He can fuck me better than you and at least he can make me cum, unlike you. 3 minutes, really?” You asked with fake confusion before laughing at his embarrassment. 

Lloyd threw his head back with a laugh, “Only 3. Wow, you really are pathetic.” He scoffed as he pulled his cock out of his slacks and he stroked himself slowly as he lined up to your weeping pussy. “Let me show him how a man really fucks.” He smirked before thrusting deep into your cunt making you cry out his name. Lloyd smirked at your cry and he nuzzled into your hair as your legs tightened around his waist. 

“Mm, Lloyd, f-feels so good.” You moaned softly as you held onto his broad shoulders tight. “M-move, p-please? W-wanna feel you d-deeper.” You whined as you nuzzled into his neck and your lips kissed his tan skin gently. He smirked before he grabbed your thighs and hooked your knees in his elbows before he started pounding in and out of your cunt fast and hard. You cried out as you wrapped your arms around his neck and you nuzzled into his chest holding onto him tight. 

He smirked at your noises and he kissed your head softly, “Mm, good fucking girl. Your tight little snatch feels so fucking good. Wanna feel you cum before I pump you full.” He growled as his hips snapped against yours and he moved one hand down to rub your clit. He kissed on your neck softly before biting his skin softly, as you moaned in his ear. 

Your head rolled over to lock eyes with your husband and you bit your lip at his desperate look. His pants were tight and he tried to look away but it was as if he couldn’t. You smirked at him, “You see this? This is a real man. Unlike you.” You sneered at him and Lloyd smirked at your words before he moved a bit faster in and out of you. 

“She’s right. She’s mine. Only mine and you won’t ever fucking touch her again.” He growled as he gripped your hips tight before his hand moved down to rub your clit softly. You moaned louder as you held onto his shoulders tight and he nuzzled into your neck. “Mm, you’re so fucking tight, babygirl. Can’t wait to pump you full of my cum.” He growled, making you whine at his possessiveness and he held you tight against his chest. 

“Mm, fuck, f-feels so good, b-baby. M’so c-close.” You whined softly as you held onto his shoulders tight. “W-wanna cum. P-please?” You pleaded softly and he smirked as he kissed your neck and his hips moved faster in and out of your pussy as he spanked your clit.

“Cum for me, love. Wanna feel you cum before I fill up your tight cunt. I’m gonna breed you till you’re leaking.” He purred, making you cry out with a sharp thrust to your sweet spot.

Your thighs shook around his waist as he rubbed your clit faster, “M’cumming!” You cried out as you came hard on his cock making you chant his name with moans. “O-oh, L-Lloyd, s-s-so g-g-good.” You whimpered out as your pussy pulsed and clenched around his throbbing and hard cock, making him growl against your neck. 

He spanked your ass in one hand as he pulled you closer before he came deep inside of you, pouring his hot spend into your tight cunt. “Take it all, baby. Want you to be fucking leaking with my cum.” He growled as his hips jerked deeper into your pussy, thrusting his cum deeper into you. He kissed your head as you relaxed against him and calmed down from your orgasm. Lloyd smirked down at you and he let you gather yourself before he set you on your feet. He grabbed his sweater and helped you put it on before you helped him tuck himself back in. 

You smirked up at him, “Let’s end this party with a bang.” You winked and Lloyd smirked before he grabbed his gun before walking up to your handcuffed husband. 

“I’m gonna show you that I’m the man she deserves and she’s going to watch cause… she’s into that.” He winked before pistol whipping your husband, knocking him out in one clean smack. You couldn’t wait to watch Lloyd start in on your dick of husband and you couldn’t wait to watch. Lloyd was right, he was the man you deserved.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #the grey man fanfiction #the grey man #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #2022 kinktober #kinktober

[bubblessunshinehoney]

Day 12- Orgasm Control with Lloyd Hansen

466 words

18 + only! NO MINOR INTERACT

Kinktober masterlist

A/N: hey guys, i have to repost all of my 18 days of Kinktober for now. Because my account got suspended last night. Many of you might have read them already, and maybe many more of you might read it for the first time. I'm not someone who asks for reblogs, likes are find by me. But for this one time...i would be very grateful if you could reblog it. To help me go back in the game. I'm sad that i lost all my works. But so grateful i wrote them on Word... Or i would have lost literally months of prepration.

So yeah, Hi again, i'm back, hopping to get back my first account.

Enjoy,

Cloudy

Don't be shy to comment, reblog or like! :)

TW: demon lloyd, so tail, mind controlling, reader gave her consent. oral (m and f receiving), p in v, pwp

not beta read, english is not my first language, all mistakes are my own

Demon, you never imagine they existed. But you were wrong, oh so wrong. You squirm, trying to get away from the intensity of sensations you are feeling. His dark laugh envelopps you and you freeze.

My sweet little doe. You can’t run away, can you?

You clench around the vibe in your pussy. He’s back in your head, controlling your movements and he’s everywhere. He’s at the end of the bed, fully clothed, his tail batting a rhythm, hypnotizing you.

What do you want?

“I wanna cum”

Sweet sweet girl, do you think you can?

This time, you feel his cock thrusting in and out of you, while he’s still fully clothed, standing there, looking into your soul.

“please”

He denied you three times already. Edge you to no end and your mind is still in his grip. He’s stroking your face with his tail now, having move, he’s beside you, smiling devilishly, licking his lips with his cut tongue.

You wanna come, my little doe?  You nod eagerly, rocking your hips.His eyes turn black, his white pointing teeth appearing.

You gonna have the best orgasm, my little doe. The one you will want to have again and again and again.

He laughs, the sound tickling your brain.

“Lloyd!” you pant and squirm. “Let me cum, please”

You’re so pretty when you beg. Cum

The order makes you explode. You cum hard, squirting on your bed, your head rolling on the cushion, you’re break your restrains and moan louder. Screaming his name, screaming your pleasure.  

Stop!

You orgasm stops abruptly and you cry out. “LLOYD! YOU PRICK!”

His laugh invades your brain again and you shiver.

Now, now. Is that how you thank me now? By insulting me?

“Please, let me have it!”

But you’re so beautiful like this, so beautiful.

He’s above you, his cock out and close to your mouth. Your mouth open on her own and his tip rests your lips. You stick your tongue, and you can taste him, he’s…nothing compared to any men you had. It’s bittersweet…like the candy you loved when you were younger.

I know my sweet doe, suck on it like you did with those lollipops and I’ll make you cum.

You do as you’re told, the moment you suck on his cock, you’re cumming. Cock, tongue, fingers you feel him everywhere. You don’t know how long your orgasm last, but when Lloyd cums in your mouth, you’re still cumming and you know it can be a long time before he cums.

My good little doe. I’m proud, see when you listen, I give you all the pleasure you deserve.

You wake up three days later, no traces of him, or of any fluids. You’re in your pj’s and you miss him.

See you can’t live without me.

taglist :

@navybrat817 @christywantspizza @buckyalpine @iloveprettyboysblog @ethreal-love @nailedbymandy

@captainsimagines @buckybarnesandmarvel @rogersandlightwood @sparkledfirecracker @barneswinterraven @hansensgirl @blades-and-heartbreak @runa-falls @chrisdrysdale

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober22 #cloudy&bellaskinktober #clo&bellaskinktober #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #chris evans characters #chris evans fandom #demon!lloyd hansen #the grey man

[feverinfeveroutfic]

”chiaroscuro”

There was one pencil tucked in the front pocket of Christine’s book bag that she never used before, especially during the school year: she had sharpened it before school started for the autumn quarter, and yet she always took the other ones out of the pockets as well as her pencil box. She always saw it as a spare part of sorts, the thing that she always looked at as a means of having a back-up lest she forget something, but she was always good at that sort of thing at that point in time. It wasn't until she delved around her bag for her eraser when she found it tucked there in the corner of the pocket.

Bright blue with a slight shimmer to the side as if it was made of water, and she picked it out for a better examination under the fluorescent lighting. It almost felt as though she had whipped out a magic wand and prepared to cast her spell upon him.

Upon Alex.

That is, when she got to see him again.

Christine returned the pencil to the pocket, and she spotted her sketchbook nestled in the very back of her bag, right behind her music theory notebook and her French literature notebook. She knew she would have to buy herself some time to be alone with him, especially with his hectic schedule and the wedding creeping in ever closer. There always had to be a way to steal a moment, just like how she was more than willing to steal him from Captain Howdy’s clutches at every whim.

She had to savor every moment that she had with him, and she had to keep it all intact in some way or form. It wasn’t easy at that point given she only got to see him for a few minutes at lunchtime before he hurried on to his next class, and she hadn’t had a class with him since the spring term.

But all throughout her study hall period, she kept her mind on the sketchbook in the back of her book bag. If she could find a moment with Alex over at her place, then she could find another moment with him, and one that would stay with her even in the face of the wedding bells.

A way to play it all by ear, and she bowed out of there at the top of the hour so as to catch the next bus back to Queens. Christine glanced behind her to the parking lot behind the registrar’s office where she caught Valentina and Alex chatting amongst themselves there on the sidewalk. She gave her long ponytail a quick toss, and she hoisted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, and she hurried over to them.

Alex nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose and showed Christine a smile as she came within their line of sight.

“Hey, Christine Sixteen!” he declared as she came within earshot.

“My friend, Christine—” Valentina opened her arms for her, and Christine returned the favor to her.

“How goes it?” Christine then asked them.

“Valentina was just heading on back home but we started chatting with each other about things to do with class and what have you,” Alex replied. “I just realized we’ve been talking for about twenty minutes!” He treated them to a hearty chuckle at that, to which he followed up with a running of his fingers through his frizzy black hair.

“I have to get home,” Valentina told them with an adjusting of her hat.

“Already?” he asked her, slightly taken aback.

“Yeah, Alex, Val’s got shit to do,” Christine insisted to him.

“Shit to do and assholes to see for myself,” Valentina quipped, to which Alex burst out laughing at that. “I promised my parents I’d be home for dinner tonight.”

“Give your parents my love,” Christine told her.

“I always do,” she assured her with a wink. “Let’s do something together next weekend, too.”

“I’d love to!” The two of them embraced one another one last time, and then Valentina playfully blew Alex a kiss, which he caught for himself, and then she ducked back to her little car parked right near the entrance to the registrar’s office. Christine showed him a little smirk.

“What was that all about?” she asked him.

“What was what?”

“Val throwing you a kiss like that.”

“Just foolin’ around,” he replied with a tucking of a lock of hair behind his ear. “You know, nothing serious like with you and me.”

“She is Romanian and Ukrainian, after all,” she pointed out.

“Subverts the rules like it’s all going out of style,” he quipped.

“Probably because all of it is going out of style!” she declared, and he laughed again. She then thought about her blue pencil and the sketchbook tucked in the back of her book bag.

“Would you like to come over?” she offered him, to which Alex raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

“Um… I have work to do at home,” he confessed.

“It’s Friday afternoon, though,” she pointed out, and she let her chest poke out for him as if to entice him. “It can wait. It can wait, can it?”

He ran the tip of his tongue along his upper lip, and then he cracked her a smile. “You know, now that you mention it… I reckon it probably can wait,” he assured her, and he flashed her a wink. “Let me drive you home.”

“I don’t really feel like riding the bus home anyway,” she confessed with a shake of her head.

“Who needs the rank-smelling bus when you get the cozy comfort of the car?” He showed her another little lopsided grin as he put his arm around her and guided her back to his car parked at the far end of the lot. He unlocked the doors for her, and she unslung her bag from her shoulder and set it down in the back seat right behind the driver’s seat. Christine climbed in and reclined back a bit, just so he could see her body throughout the whole ride back to Queens. Indeed, Alex slithered into the front seat and took off his glasses so she could see his face.

He never lost that smile, filled with crooked teeth and accentuated by those full cherry lips, and she thought about kissing him when he least suspected it.

“I just realized it’s been a hot minute since we last got together,” he remarked, and he lowered his voice a bit: it wasn’t quite that lush, husky tone he used whenever the mood struck them, but she knew that he could easily reach that point at any moment during the ride back to her apartment.

“It really has,” she agreed. “Our schedules just riff against each other so much now.”

“Not gonna lie, I miss seeing you and Eric in my classes,” he confessed as he stuck the key into the ignition. He then cleared his throat and bowed his head. “Seeing her in the front row of my class has a whole host of pitfalls.”

“Who, Valentina?”

“No…” He gestured to his ring finger and Christine gaped at that. “Her.”

“She sits in the front row?”

“Every time. Literally right where you usually sit, too, off to my left. So, naturally, my eyes wander in that direction.” He shifted his weight. “She thinks it’s romantic that I always look over at her.”

“So she thinks,” Christine pointed out.

“So she thinks, exactly.” He fired up the car and strapped himself in. There was something about the way that he said that made her think they were about to head out on a getaway of sorts. A couple of thieves escaping in the thick of the rainy night whereby they had nothing left to lose.

She put on her sunglasses and rested her arm on the top of the door lining. She peered out the window as if she was patrolling the neighborhood. Alex had put on his shades as well: Christine noticed that he had unbuttoned the third button of his shirt to show off more skin and sprigs of chest hair. She thought about reaching over to stroke his chest while he was driving, but she thought about something happening to them all the while.

The afternoon sun caressed over their faces with each passing moment, and more so as they traversed the Brooklyn Bridge. High above the black waters of the East River in the safety of his car: for a moment, Christine believed she was flying along the rim of the bridge.

Within time, they reached her neighborhood and he parked around the corner, away from the buses and any prying eyes.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she led Alex back to the safety of her apartment; once they reached her door, she spotted a white box with a lid right before the bottom corner and the frame. Atop the lid was a small piece of lined paper:

“For the first full week of school! Love, Mom.”

Christine showed a smile at that, and she picked up the white box from the floor, and she lifted the lid to find the cake inside topped with a luscious cream cheese frosting and a light dusting of what appeared to be cinnamon. She was met with the aroma of cinnamon and cloves, combined with ginger and cardamom, and she realized that Wendy had dusted a bit of the cardamom with the cinnamon atop the frosting.

“What we got here?” he asked her in a low voice.

“Mom baked a spice cake for me,” she replied, and she handed him the box to hold for a second so she could unlock the door.

Once in the apartment, he set the cake on the kitchen counter, and he turned to her right as she set her bag down in the recliner chair. Christine strode into the kitchen, and she searched for the serrated knife. She took the cake out of the box and served up a plate for him, followed by one for herself.

“Here, Alex—” Christine offered him a slice of the cake, to which his face lit up and he showed her his palms as he took the plate. She watched him take a bite, and he closed his eyes all the while.

“Oh, my god,” he breathed. “It’s really good. Moist. Tender. All full of spices.”

“When you finish that, I want you to pose for me so I can draw you,” she suggested to him without a second thought.

His eyes softened at the sound of that, and she headed back to her bag with the plate of cake in one hand, and she took her sketchbook out of hiding, and she presented him with it as if she was presenting him with a book of secrets.

“It’ll just be for you and me when we have a moment alone,” she vowed to him.

Alex sank the tines of the fork into the cake and took another bite.

“Take your time, too,” she encouraged him. “I want to see you in your relaxed, satiated state before I begin.” He held the bite of cake in his mouth all the while, and Christine indulged in her own slice right then. The cake was an art form in and of itself, such that she thought of another slice once she licked the rest of the cream cheese frosting off the tines of her fork.

“Shall I take off my clothes?” he asked her as he set his plate down on the counter and ran his fingers through his coarse hair.

“Please,” she asked him as she took that blue pencil out of the pocket of her book bag. Though she loved Valentina, seeing her there with Alex made her want to draw his naked body even more. He peeled off his shirt and lay it on the counter.

“Glasses on or off?” he offered her.

“What do you think?” she retorted to him. He licked his lips and nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He padded over to the midst of the living room, right in front of her. Christine turned to the stool behind her, and she propped it right before him. She backed up a bit, and he plunked down right before her.

Christine turned to the window and nudged the curtains open so the late afternoon sunlight flooded into the apartment: the shadows crossed his body in all the right places, especially when he leaned back and opened his legs. His belly hung out in the open, and he kept his hands rested down on his bare knees. He gave his hair a shake, and she kept her gaze fixated on the smooth skin of his neck.

“Alex, I should probably tell you,” she began, and she pursed her lips at the sight of him. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and he licked his lips, albeit at a rather slow, deliberate pace. The smell of ginger and cardamom was intoxicating for her, and she had to slow down a bit. 

She wanted every feature down on the paper, and yet the mere suggestion brought a wave of warmth to the crown of her head as if she stood out in the sun.

“Go on,” he encouraged her, to which he kept his voice down low and his hands still rested upon his knees.

“You have such a beautiful body,” she remarked. Her face grew warm as she said that, to which he showed her a little grin.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” she said in a low voice, and he shifted his weight on the stool. He opened his legs a bit more still to show more flesh to her. The shadows were stark and his body was shapely and accentuated from his head all the way down to his feet. Christine held a hand to her mouth as if she was stifling back some laughter, but she could feel her throat closing up at the feeling. All the while, she kept her hand steady to draw him.

“Big… gorgeous man,” she breathed. “Big and shapely and… full.” She couldn’t help but keep her gaze on his waist and the interior of his thighs. She had the tip of her pencil down on the paper all the while: if only there was a way to feel him through the graphite.

He lifted his hand and rested it on his belly, and a chill shot up her spine at the sight of him. He let his hand slide down his belly towards his hip bone and his thigh. She couldn’t stop looking at the curve of flesh over his hip, or the tone of his thighs.

“Phew…”

“What’s the matter?” he teased her as he kept his fingertips close to his belly button.

“Nothing,” she quipped to him with a shake of her head. Her face was still warm from the rush of the blood.

“Nothing? It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“You’re just… really sexy,” she told him.

“It’s what I get for being in the same room as a girl who’s sensual,” he retorted with a nudge of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “A girl who’s got more curves than me.” He licked his lips and leaned back a bit.

“No, you’re the one with the full curves,” she insisted as she began on his hand.

“Please. You’re a literal woman, where I’m just a guy with a chubby gut.”

“Keep your hand there for me,” she insisted with a nod to his hand on his belly.

“Like this?”

“Just like that.” She cleared her throat as she used the edge of the graphite to shade in the curves of his body. She knew that if she could get the shape of his body down, she could fill in the rest of the background with graphite to further accentuate him.

“You have such beautiful veins on your hand,” she remarked. “Your arms, too.” She moved her gaze up to his chest, followed by his shoulders and his neck: a chill ran up her spine once she reached his glasses and then his gray streak.

“I’ll add some more graphite to the shadows,” she promised him.

“So I can move and get dressed?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes, big boy,” she replied with a waggle of her eyebrows. “And this will be just between you and me, too. I’ll use this to get myself in the mood when I know we’ll be meeting each other again.”

“No one can ever know,” he assured her, and he flashed her a wink. He then craned his neck for a look at the counter. “Oh, there’s my shirt.”

#kinktober #kinktober prompts #kinktober list #kinktober 2024 #kinktober all year #kink tumblr #kink tag #fanfic #fanfiction #testament #testament fanfic #testament band #alex skolnick #oc tag #as the seasons grey fanfic #as the seasons grey #dark roots of earth #dark roots of earth fanfic #writing #also on ao3 #text #smut writing

[peridotglimmer]

Kinktober Day 16: Change of Scenery

Ship 16 of 31: Diana Burnwood/Lucas Grey (Hitman)

Kinktober masterpost here

Rated E, mirror sex, platonic sex. For and inspired by @diana-fortyseven

A new safehouse means new ways to blow off steam.

#belle writes #kinktober 2023 #31 ficlets with 31 different ships #hitman #diana/grey #diana burnwood #lucas grey #hitman fanfiction #kinktober

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Other Black Butler Characters Masterlist

Notes: Anyone you don’t see here, might be here or I don’t write for them. Find me a gif for John Brown and I’ll love you.

Codes

🦋 = Headcannons

💄 = Fem Reader

☘️ = GN Reader

🌷 = Fic

🖤 = Angst

🏳️‍🌈 = Gay

✨= Fluff

🌚 = NSFW

—-///—-

Charles Grey

To Be Continued…

John Brown

Revenge, You Thought 💄🌚

Blavat Sky

To Be Continued…

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched mouth #stitched writes #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #black butler #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler x reader #charles grey #john brown #blavat sky

[josiebelladonna]

kinktober 2023

my second time and i’m about… 10000000x more insecure in my sexuality 😪. this event and its interactions are for 18+ readers only. please please please please pay attention to the content and trigger warnings; these fics will be based on my current flagship fics, as the seasons grey, like blood from a stone, eerie inhabitants, and love is not enough:

seasons grey is a university au with a teacher-student dynamic at its core that’s as plump and ripe as an apple off the branch;

blood from a stone is a royalty/soulmate au that’s just based out of my own female gaze;

eerie inhabitants is a REALLY VIOLENT vampire au that i’m bringing back from the dead just for spooky season;

and love is not enough is a prostitute/street walker au that carries a bottle of hooch and lays on the ground with no bra on.

all four stories are sweet and emotional but also erotic because they pertain to my own personal sexuality (hence why i’m very nervous and even awkward saying this). nevertheless, please be advised!

A/N: *sigh* okay. i’m going to be honest with all of you, sexuality is a very delicate subject for me and it’s a daily battle for me, grappling with it in the goal to see it as this natural thing. just thinking about it makes me so… dirty and anxious and uncomfortable and deeply ashamed and misty-eyed and frustrated and kind of angry. i participated in kinktober last year and had some fun, and yet i struggled with feeling comfortable: now i feel like i’m sitting on gravel that’s been out in the sun. i’m not this confident, voluptuous vixen who is eager to share her fantasies with all of you: i’m a raw stinky-ass, dirty-ass troll under the bridge who feels the words “confident”, “voluptuous”, and “vixen” should come nowhere near me. i’m going to tell you this now, i am quite wordy, because that’s just how i roll with erotic writing, and i always feel that i have no right to feel sexy.

really, please be patient with me and try to enjoy. i won’t blame you if you cringe at my stories and laugh at it rather than with it.

these prompts are from @flightlessangelwings and @the-purity-pen, the latter of whom i remember from last year (i’ll try to remember the #fawktober tag 😅🔥)

i’m just going to give away the titles and the ships: i’ll leave the prompts themselves as a surprise for you.

“Conundrum” — Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Ashes to Ashes” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“A Cup of Tea” — Joey/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks” — Eric/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Rain” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Rocky Mountains” — Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Shadows of the Night” — Joey/Chuck + Alex/Chuck + Chuck/Cliff (lol) (Like Blood from a Stone)

“3rd Floor” — Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Master of the House” — Alex/Q (Love Is Not Enough)

“Vampires Will Never Hurt You” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Different Colors Made of Tears” — Joey/Chuck + Eric/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Death by Chocolate” — Alex/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Devil’s Haircut” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“I Could Have Lied” — Eric/Lilian + Mark/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Dirty Window” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Coriander” — Alex/Chuck/Joey (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Lip Gloss” — Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Golden Ratio” — Alex/Lilian + Mark/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Neon Moon” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Django Tango” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Salt the Wound” — Chuck/Cliff (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Doce Com Doce” — Alex/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Icicle” — Mark/Abby + Rob/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“One of These Nights” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Spirits in the Mist” — Eric/Louie (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Trial By Fire” — Alex/Q (Love Is Not Enough)

“7” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Delta of Venus” — Joey/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Only These Words” — Eric/Abby + Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Call Me By Your Name” — Alex/Chuck/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Fairies Wear Boots” — Alex/Christine + Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober prompts #smut #as the seasons grey #like blood from a stone #love is not enough #eerie inhabitants #kink tumblr #kink tw #fic writing #fic woes #text #fanfic

[earlgreydream]

October 2nd: sensory deprivation with tasm!peter parker

cw: smut, gagging, blindfolding, cnc (consensual. CONSENSUAL. pre authorized consent), mentions of overstim

It was just like every other evening, you were kicking off your shoes and thumbing through the mail to see if there were any envelopes with your name. The small apartment was quiet, your radioactive boyfriend nowhere to be seen. It was dark, too, usually Peter left a lamp on for you, but the apartment was eerie.

“Babe?” You called out, flipping on the hall light and listening for him.

He didn’t answer, and you were totally unaware of his presence until you were undressing, preparing for a shower.

A small scream burst from your lips when your hand was suddenly stuck to the wall by a thick, white substance. Peter had startled you, and before you could lecture him, your mouth was gagged shut with his webs, your other hand stuck to the wall.

“Look at you,” he smirked, walking up and trailing fingers up the curves of your body, bared naked to him and helplessly bound to the wall.

You squirmed away from his touch, your eyes wide and chest heaving as he sank down to his knees, grabbing your waist and pressing wet, hot kisses along your hip.

“So sensitive, darling,” he teased, biting lightly at the mound between your hips, earning a muffled shriek behind the gag.

He was towering over you again in an instant, wrapping a scarf around your eyes, taking away your ability to see him coming. Every touch was heightened, startling you with the intensity. You wanted to cry for him, to tell him that you wanted to see his brown eyes when he fucked you, but your words were caught behind the gag, left to the mercy of him lifting your knee.

Peter shoved into you all at once, knocking your chest against the wall, fucking you standing. He kissed along your shoulder, biting when he came to your throat, your cunt spasming around his cock when he did so.

His thrusts were brutal, hips knocking against yours and entirely left to his mercy, your heart racing every time his hands and mouth disappeared, only to ignite somewhere new.

Despite the gag, Peter did hear the muffled scream as you came, his fingers rubbing hard against your clit and your cunt full of him. Peter fucked you through it, ignoring your frightened squeals as he chased his own orgasm, smirking at your muscles straining in an attempt to free yourself from him.

You hated how long he could last when he was trying to torture you. While this was better than choking on him when he was drawing it out, your insides felt raw, your entrance aching from being forcefully stretched.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, desperate for support as your legs went numb, his cum leaking down your thighs.

He removed the blindfold first, gently kissing the corners of your eyes as he pulled off the gag, going to free your hands next. His body supported your weight, strong arms keeping you from collapsing at his feet.

“You scared me!” You accused between kisses, your cheeks hot as you looked at the mess the two of you left behind.

“You said you wanted to try something a little freakier.”

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #grey's kinktober 2022 #tasm!peter #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #andrew garfield peter parker #spiderman #marvel #avengers

[ellenchain]

No. 18 - Love ♥️

I think I drew them in a similar pose last year. But maybe that's their favourite position?! Who knows??

| Kinktober 2022 (uncensored + high res) on Gumroad for free | Twitter (R18) |

#Grey47 #Lucas Grey #Agent 47 #Hitman #Kinktober 2022

[cashweasel]

you know exactly which one of your ocs is my favourite and I still hold a grudge against your skinny ass for keeping him locked up. I hope that at least he's locked up in a castle waiting for a hot babe to rescue him😶 I don't know much about him but I love his depressed angsty ass (emphasis on ass) and his pretty face and his pretty skin colour (apparently I have a thing for blueskinned men🤷🏻‍♀️). But! I remember you drawing him for kinktober two years ago, all tied up and nakey nakey and I think it was a masterpiece and I often think about it🫐💙

FUCKING SCREAMINGGG 😂😂😂💀💀 vee ilysm but also,, bold of you to assume my ass is skinny… LOLLL Hyacinth?? I haven’t heard that name in years!! 🤔😮‍💨

JK I’m sorry he’s been locked up,, I guess he just wants to be left alone and not disturbed! it’s not me it’s him keeping himself locked up!! He probably just wants to sleep 😔 well there is some news about him tho he’s in a zombie au now slicing his way thru life with a cool machete and not one but two lovers!! Sdkskajddh

#NOT THE KINKTOBER ART 😭😭😭💀 #it’s ok I can draw it better now fjsksjriejeieiei #😏💀😏 #also #i guess in a way he has been rescued 😂 #I’m waiting for the exile to update so I can resume crying about him and syfyn #i should make some art of them sometime #also I miss u please come talk to me about jude :( #you should also know ever since you started watching every other video on my tiktok is greys now and I can’t stand it #cannot defend this show any longer #ask

[sytoran]

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #natasha x reader #natasha x reader smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #hozier #arsonist's lullabye #arsonist's lullaby #natasha romanoff x fem reader #fem reader #natasha x fem!reader #fem!reader #sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[ana-swritings]

Kinktober 2022 - Day 23

Day 23 of Kinktober

Kink: Masks

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy

Pairing: Cormac Hayes x OFC (Julia)

Words: 957

T.W.: N/A

Summary: Who are you?

Cormac was bored. It was another boring party, sure the reason why they were throwing the party was noble, but still, it was a boring party. At least to him, he always thought masquerade parties were weird. He was leaning against the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand, looking around the room, hoping that something or someone would chase the boredom away.

That’s when he saw her walking towards the bar. A tight red dress, just above her knees, with a slit that went up her leg and stopped mid-thigh, a neck plunge that ended just below her breasts and a red silky mask over her eyes. She saw him looking at her, he thought she would go and talk to him, but instead, she just moved to the other side of the bar. She was purposely avoiding him.

All night, Cormac had been hit on by different women, all wanting to spend the night with him. Yet, this one was definitely going out of her way to avoid him. That never happened. She just made him want her that much more. He told the bartender to serve her a drink on him, a drink she refused. “Playing hard to get, are we?”, he thought, a smirk playing on his lips. Making his way towards her, he turned on his charm, only to be shut down. Yep, she was definitely playing hard to get.

Julia didn’t know who this stranger was, but she was definitely not going to make things easy for him. It was hard enough being a woman in a world controlled by men, if she was to be known as the girl who has sex with random men, all she had accomplished would be tainted by that knowledge, and let’s face it, it wasn’t hard for people to know.

When he approached her, Julia tried her best to keep him at bay, but her desire and the heat that was already rising within her, were hard to ignore. After a while of him flirting with her, and being clearly turned on by her dismissiveness, she decided to give in. She scribbled something on a paper napkin and slid it to him, taking her leave.

The mystery woman had just left, when Cormac opened the napkin. “First hallway, second door to the right. 5 minutes. Be discrete.”, he read. Cormac couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips. Finishing his drink, he discretely left the bar and followed her instructions. Finding the door, he took a quick look up and down the hallway, making sure he wasn’t followed.

The door opened and there she was, leaning against a metal shelf. This was a storage room, how she knew about it, he had no idea, but it didn’t matter. Cormac closed and locked the door behind him and met her in the middle of the room. Putting one hand around her waist, he pulled her close and kissed her hard.

Julia tangled her hands in his hair, while kissing him. His hands were all over her body and she would yelp and moan in pleasure. Cormac pushed her against a shelf and started raising her dress skirt up, his hand quickly finding her clit and rubbing it over her red lacy panties. She couldn’t help but moan the closer she got to the peak. Even after she came, he didn’t let up. He kept rubbing her, making her come over and over again.

Cormac felt her pushing him away and against the shelves on the opposite wall. Pulling his cock out of his pants, she started stroking him as fast as she could. He felt his cock twitch at each stroke and that’s when she surprised him. Getting down on her knees, she started licking the tip of his cock, with one hand still stroking him while the other played with his balls. A growl left his mouth, a clear indication of how much he was enjoying it.

Hearing him growl made Julia put his cock in her mouth, causing Cormac to yelp in surprise. He felt her starting to suck and lick his cock like it was the most amazing thing she had ever had. He felt the tip of his cock touch the back of her throat, but she didn’t choke. “Impressive.”, he thought, already feeling closer to hitting his peak. Letting her know that he was getting close, he was expecting her to pull back, but instead she just sped up.

Cormac had no idea what she was thinking but he was in no position to complain. She was sucking his cock, like a pro, while still stroking it and playing with his balls. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. He warned her that he was about to come, but she didn’t stop, in fact, she just sucked harder and faster. Soon, he was coming and that’s when he felt it. She was swallowing. He felt his cum puddling in her mouth and then her swallowing.

Getting up from her knees, Julia had a streak of cum coming down the side of her mouth. Cormac rubbed his thumb over it and she sucked on it, just like she just had with his cock, a smile on her lips when she was done. He couldn’t help but smile as well.

They didn’t say anything to each other, they just got dressed and left, each in a different direction. They would see each other again, a few minutes later, when Meredith Grey introduced them to each other. They couldn’t help but smile at the knowledge of what had happened just a few minutes before.

“This is one for the books, that’s for sure.”, Cormac couldn’t help but think, as he left.

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

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#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #kinktober challenge #masks #grey's anatomy #cormac hayes #ofc #cormac hayes x ofc #day 23 #day twenty three #ana's writings

[mundrakan]

Kinktober2022

Ghost-love.... or what counts for that today. The Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron...

#kinktober 2022 #ao3fic #harry potter fandom #grey lady #bloody baron