#his body is thrown in the same manner too

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions—but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

#sttoru writes. #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk x you

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- i might have severe baby fever, idk.

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

——————————————————————————

Contrary to his name literally meaning “blessing”, Megumi was nothing short of a curse during bath time. He absolutely hated it, and he made it his tiny life’s mission to make sure his parents dreaded it as well.

“Megs, please just.. work with me here,” Toji pleaded, exhaustion brewing inside of him, his hands desperately trying to keep the squirming child before him tame.

You’d gone to run some errands, leaving Toji to attempt bath time alone, his previous confidence shriveling into nothingness the second he heard little Megumi cry as soon as he was dunked into the warm water. At three months old, he was the perfect child, quiet and happy, tame in every aspect of life, a fact that seemed to be nothing but false when Toji was the one left in charge of watching him.

Toji didn’t even think it possible for something to cry as much as Megumi did without passing out, but he had been proven wrong before, the wriggling thing in his hands wailing his heart out to try and convince his dad to let him out. “I’m sorry baby, but you did this to yourself,” he huffed, gently rubbing bubbles along his son’s belly, tiny feet kicking water up at him, Megumi clearly trying to escape the horror of his nightly bath.

You see, Toji would feel bad for his baby had he not been the cause for the bath in the first place, the mashed carrots he had for dinner ending up smeared down his face and front, far from the target of his mouth. Said carrots began to fade away from the whimpering Megumi’s skin, turning the water into a soapy orange. His little body fit perfectly in Toji’s large hands, the newborn scrunch still apparent as baby Megs’ legs squished up to his belly in a useless attempt at kicking his dad’s fingers away.

The crying problem only escalated as soon as Toji introduced a washcloth into the picture, Megumi squealing, kicking and writhing with so much force, he might as well have been a full-grown adult.

Without your seemingly ‘all-knowing’ insight when it came to parenting, Toji rushed to find his own solution, grabbing a used bottle of soap that appeared to be extremely bubbly, hurriedly pumping out the liquid into the water filled basin, praying that the mysterious substance would somehow, someway, quell the curse possessing his son.

It was almost as if Megumi was hypnotized or something, because the instant the familiar smell of his mother hit his nose, his screaming cries died down to nothing but little babbles, coos leaving him in a low, comfortable purr. You see, it wasn’t just any old soap bottle. No, it was the soap you had used to bathe Megs the night after you’d come home from the hospital after giving birth. Toji remembered just how surreal and peaceful the night was, so he could understand why the familiar scent would coax his baby into a severe bout of relaxation.

Finally quitting his incessant wriggling, Megumi relaxed in Toji’s hold, the smell of the soap slowly coaxing him into a sleepy state, his little nose wrinkling and eyelids occasionally fluttering open and closed. Toji hadn't noticed before but his tiny fingers began to wrap around his pinky finger, holding onto it in a playful manner.

“hm-” Toji hummed, finally understanding the cause of his son’s untamable mood. “You just miss mama, huh?” he murmured, gentle as he picked up a sponge, running the soft material along the cooing baby’s chest and belly, sudsing up his little body, taking advantage of the sleepy mood that seemed to come over the boy.

“Yeah.. me too,” was all Toji could think to say, honestly relating to the fit his son had thrown over missing his mother, Toji feeling the same way but without the screaming and crying to show it. Finishing his gentle cleansing, Toji leaned down to press a kiss on the sleepy Megumi’s forehead. "Let’s get you to bed," he whispered, hand cupping some water to rinse him with before he gently lifted him to his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

It was a breeze the rest of the night, Toji falling victim to sleep as well, he and Megumi alike in a sense that they both enjoyed resting more than anything. The couch was the chosen spot, Toji lying shirtless against the large piece of furniture, Megumi’s blue, fuzzy onesie warm against his chest as they dozed off, a large hand resting against the tiny baby’s back, holding him safe and sound even while unconscious.

He couldn’t explain it, but being alone with his child, his baby, kindled a feeling of comfortability, of pure contentment, in his chest, he knew that no matter how untamable or stubborn or confusing Megumi could be at times, he would always be his son, his little curse of a blessing.

——————————————————————————

#he was robbed of fatherhood #toji fluff #dilf toji #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fushigro x reader #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro fluff #jjk x fem!reader #baby megumi #dad toji #toji x y/n #papaguro

[circusofthelastdays]

foreplay & fingering with halsin

warnings: NSFW, virgin reader, AFAB fem reader, dom halsin, submissive reader, foreplay, fingering, praise kink, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, cum eating if you squint

"Oh my heart, look at you..." Halsin speaks in a sultry tone, placing a few sloppy kisses on your neck. He pulls your back tightly against his chest as you squirm under the onslaught of pleasure he offers you.

He's been toying with your clit far too long, leaving you oversensitive and soaking through your panties. His fingers move in a precise pattern over the nub, one meant to draw you close to another high, without a care that your thighs are starting to tremble and your cries are getting desperate.

With your head thrown back onto his shoulder, lewd whines and moans escape your lips- you mumble complaints about the intensity of his sensuous touch. "mm 's too much..."

"Shh shh, I must continue. I must prep you, we wouldn't want it to hurt when I give you what you truly want, now would we?" he chides, chuckling at the little noises you make as he slips his hand away and pulls off your panties.

Halsin lets out an audible groan upon seeing you fully bare for him, "so pretty..." he says, dragging a finger through your dripping folds. "I can't believe I'm the only person who has had the pleasure to touch you like this."

He hooks his middle finger into your sopping cunt, moving it at a languorous pace, careful to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion before adding his index finger. He haults the movement of his hand only momentarily when he hears you whimper. He wants you to feel nothing but pleasure from his hands.

"You're doing so well for me, my heart." he praises you, beginning to move his fingers within you again, angling them just right to hit exactly where he must to ensure you the most pleasure. He is precise in the manner that he makes sure to grind his palm against your clit too. He feels you clenching around his fingers already, and he can't help but smirk knowing that he has you close again. It's an easy task, really, you're so sensitive- so responsive to touch because of your inexperience... and not to mention he's been edging you since your last orgasm.

"Just one more, okay?" he assures you, mumbling against your skin as he trails more kisses over the back of your neck and shoulders to push you further into bliss.

He knows you're almost there, he can tell in the way you sound, moans climbing up from the back of your throat that are so beautifully sinful to listen to, the way your thighs tremble and threaten to squeeze around his hand, the way you try to arch your back away from his chest-

He keeps you locked in place with his free hand. He keeps the same pace with his occupied hand, not daring to change a single thing about the way he is touching you because consistency is key. Another groan of arousal leaves him when you come undone from his fingers alone, his pupils practically dilating from the sight of you soaking his lap as you come, your body trembling from the intensity of it all as you tumble over the edge.

"Good girl, shh it's okay, you're okay..." he says, coaxing you through your second orgasm of the night, that appeared to be much stronger than the first. That much is clear from the mess you made and your cries of pleasure that only get increasingly louder. He works you through it with a slow pace, not stilling his fingers once until you have come down from your high, and you're no longer trembling.

Halsin removes his hand from your drenched pussy when your body goes slack against his chest, eagerly licking the arousal from his fingers. Your eyes go wide at the sight, face flushing in embarrassment, "Halsin, stop that... that's so-" you start to say, but he cuts you off.

"What?" he says, "dirty? gross? no. you taste delicious. on another night I shall have to taste you directly from the source, but for now... I cannot hold myself back any longer from fucking that pretty pussy of yours."

check out my masterlist here for more like this!

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 smut #halsin x reader #halsin smut #halsin silverbough #bg3 x reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of death, being hunted, vulgar language, price in a tunic (yes this is a warning by itself), awkwardness, nakedness, suggestive (?), implied age gap, etc.

A/N: I'm feral over this AU, ong. A million kisses to the Anon that brought this to my attention-btw this is definitely becoming a mini-series.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your family told you to never go beyond the deep waterways of the cove, never to brave the open sea. Times were changing. The Harpies, when they weren't as shrewd about their feathers getting wet, would fly down from their tall mountain spires and tell stories—ones about the hunting ships. 

They’d seen them, they said as your family listened on in horror from the rocks, dragging all manner of Merfolk up from the waters in large nets made of iron and hard steel. Spears that tore scales to take for profit. In other instances, the unlucky individuals were even sold to royalty to become showpieces in displays of high wealth and standing. 

But it wasn’t just Merfolk. It was all manner of mystical beast and being. Hunted. Sold. Humans, your parents had told you, were not friends. They were greedy and selfish; more than often cruel. 

And so they started to do the same unto them. Your family would lure them with their voices to the ends of the great ships that were brought close to your cove—watch as they hurled themselves from the sides into the grasp of the ruthless waves. They did it for you, they explained. To try and keep you safe. 

For years they did this until they were gone too. 

Suddenly the cove seemed more like a prison than a safe spot, and the Harpies no longer came to converse or tell news. Killed or taken you had no idea, but it was becoming fairly obvious that even interactions with your own people were impossible. Were you the only mermaid left? It was a good question to ask and one that you could never answer. All that you knew was that you had been alone for a very long time. 

That was, before you first laid eyes on the fisherman. 

You watch him now, yet again, from behind the sharp jutting body of the rocks; the water delicately bobs you up and down as your vibrant tail hangs limp in its otherworldly throes. Eyes softly wide and mouth parted in wonder. 

He’s walking along the deck of a small ship—not the large and intimidating ones of the other men that sail the seas—with a strong form. A hat on top of his head of brown hair and a well-trimmed beard of the same color made him look gruff in appearance. 

Your hands shift over the sharp black stone, and the nakedness of your top is covered by the long strands of your wet, uncut, hair. This man wore a plain white tunic and brown pants stuffed into large boots. Even as far as you were, you heard the soft whistled tune dancing in the shell of your ears. Delicate eyes watch, head slowly peeking out more and more. 

He was tending to the nets he had on the bow and as you studied him you were mystified. 

“Fascinating,” you whisper, unknown emotions swirling in you. 

His muscles strain, large and expansive shoulders lead down to a tapered waist; legs that you blink at before glancing at your tail under the rippling water. There’s a large grunt before the fisherman’s net is thrown in a beautiful arc, hitting the water with a slap and a spray of liquid as it begins to sink. Startled, you flinch back, gasping loudly.

With a racing heart, you quietly scold yourself for the childish reaction, flicking your tail in annoyance. Slowly but surely, your head peaks back out with water dripping down the flesh of your shoulders. 

But when you shift back into the open, you find a deep set of stormy blue eyes digging into your field of view. You freeze, seeing his lids go back in surprise and shock as your jaw slackens. A cold fear enters your veins at the new attention brought to you but you find yourself unable to look away. 

The Fisherman is the picture of utter stillness, just as you are, like twin mountains of ancient stone. Your nervousness only seems to grow as he doesn’t do anything—teachings and lessons about those who walk on two legs and sail in ships poking holes into your mind. 

Gawking and spying were one thing…but being seen meant death. You swallow stiffly and go tense, shifting to half-hide behind your rock. 

“Oh, no,” your mouth murmurs, self-hatred and fear lining the tone. “Oh, no, no, no.”

And yet the Fisherman had not moved, nor made any attempt to pull his sinking net back into his boat. Fish panic in the rope grave they’ve been ensnared in. His eyes….why are they so curiously locked on you?

You spare one last glance before shoving away from the rock and disappearing under the water with a violent splash; making off for the deep underwater caves that offer salvation. 

When you’re down there—in the darkness with only silent ripples of light to guide your eyes—you find it hard to stop thinking about the Fisherman and his strong jaw. His genuine awe at the sight of you. 

Had he not heard the stories of the Merfolk of this region? Or…or were you truly the last of your kind? 

The thought troubles you, and, riddled with anxiety, you go over to your store of shiny trinkets that you’d collected over the years; grabbing them in your hands and fiddling with them to try to put your mind at ease. The walls of the caves bare down on you and you hope you’d not just signed over your own death warrant. 

Maybe he’ll go away, you offer yourself, face tight and tail curled close, maybe he’ll be afraid and won’t come back. 

It was a pointless belief. They always come back—driven by greed or a righteous authority. Humans were cruel. 

But your brain goes back to stormy blue eyes like pebbles and softly parted lips. Orbs glinting with wonder and shock. No attempt to shout or grab for the large knife you’d seen strapped to his belt. 

A fisherman, you told yourself, who hesitated to go after the biggest fish of them all. 

You didn’t quite know if that made you more afraid or more intrigued. 

—

It was only after you’d spent three weeks in the underwater caves of the cove that you’d finally decided the coast was clear. You’d cautiously gone back through the winding seaweed and schools of marine life to hide in your little rock fort; afraid but brave. From under the waves in the calm of the water you’d scanned the surface for the shadows of a boat, anything to indicate that the man had returned. 

Nothing. 

Tension leaves your shoulders and you travel upwards, vibrant scales shimmering like jewels. You were quite close to the mainland, you would say, back to the shore to look out over the open entrance to your home. At the first sign of danger, the rocks would be your first point of shelter if you wished to remain hidden but continue to watch.

Ears popping as your head surfaces, you only look out with the water swaying below your eyes; nose and chin hidden. Sand from behind you shifts.

“Knew I’d seen something, then, eh?” Your heart lurches—brain flashing to hooks and nets; you shove yourself back under the water with a garbled gasp.

Fish around your form dash away as you frantically look back at the surface, your scales shining as the light hits them. Fingers tense in the water, you shift your body so that your form has its back to the floor of the cove and breathe quickly in your own mermadian way with shaking fins. 

On the very edge of the shore, you see the shadow of a sitting body in the sand. He hadn’t moved, this Fisherman. Was waiting as inanimate as an empty shell.

What had he said? You ask yourself, hair disturbed by the flow of the waves above your head. A gentle back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, the large muscle in your breast slows itself and a nervous curiosity grows.

Yet still, the shadow stays completely motionless beside the occasional itch and brush as facial hair. Waiting. 

Waiting to attack, your hand twitches in the water and you flutter your tail to take you closer to the open air, or waiting to see me?

Taking what you can describe as a deep breath, the top of your head once more breaks the top of the water; lashes dripping salty tear-drops as you blink away the sting. Every part of you is ready to disappear once more if things go south. 

And then you lock eyes once more. 

The Fisherman sits in the sand with his boots pushing up the granules—his right hand rests over his bent knee while the other keeps him up in a relaxed position from behind his back. You stare, the sun reflected in your eyes with a small glinting and hair in your vision. A foreign heat builds in your face when the man’s head tilts; tiny eyes narrowing as if he’d just proven a point to himself. 

Why doesn’t he seem surprised?

There’s a moment of a smirk that slashes his hidden lips but it’s gone in a fraction of a second. His mustache moves as he speaks and your face slightly bobs lower instinctually. The Fisherman doesn't seem hostile—he has a kind of stern comfort to him. 

Stubborn gruffness. And his accent only amplifies that fact.

 “Well, wasn’t expecting to find you here,” his chest rumbles with his words. You find you quite like the sound of it. Shells grinding against each other and pearls that clatter in palms. Your eyes widen with innocence. The Fisherman clears his throat, still watching carefully as the water sloshes over his boots. “Else I would have stayed clear when I still could.” 

Your hands tread water around you, tail flickering in small movements. 

The man's gaze darts down to stare as well as he could through the ripples. 

“Bloody Christ,” he murmurs to himself, returning your eyes once more, “thought you were all mostly extinct. Fuckin’ hell.”

“Extinct?” Your lips flinch, chin caressing the waves as brows pull up. The Fisherman blinks as if surprised to hear you speak. To be honest, you were half afraid you couldn’t either—how long had it been since you’d had a conversation above water? You spent most of your time passing comments to rare traveling Hippocampus and Sea Serpents.

Not that they could respond, of course.

By now your face had entirely left the water, that word startling you. Your chest tightens.

“What do you mean,” you ask the older man, this strange Fisherman who was shifting his weight in the sand, “extinct?” 

Dark brows furrow and his back slightly straightens itself. 

“You aren't exactly what I’d be calling common, Love. No one’s seen one of your kind in years.” Your face stills. 

“Years?” Head angling itself down, you stare at your reflection in growing fear. 

The Fisherman makes a move to stand, and you dart back swiftly. A pale hand is held in the air as if to sedate you.

“Easy, now.” It’s said softly, a grunt stuck at the beginning. A small moment passes before the man fully stands up, dressed similarly to when you’d seen him before. 

Top, pants, hat. There’s also a flash of metal around his neck, some piece of jewelry hidden on the chain under the layer of his thin, flowy, tunic. Hands go to cross over his chest in a display of muscle gained from a long time of hard work.

You nervously plead for an explanation, “B-but that…that doesn’t make any sense! I’m not the only one left!”

“No,” the Fisherman slowly states, taking off the hat from his head and delicately placing it on the ground. “No, you’re not the last.” 

His eyes dart along your visible body, trying to catch a glimpse of that tail that was in all stories about your kind. 

“Your name, Ma’am,” he asks, blue returning to your own sights, “what is it.”

“Well, what’s yours?” You counter, getting snappy in your anxiousness. “You come into my home and expect me to answer to you? And where’s your fishing boat anyways—unless a male Selkie has suddenly managed to brave the deep sea?” 

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but you had sworn the Fisherman had smiled at you; it was a swift slash of something that pulled his mustache back and wrinkled his face. An amused thing it was. A sort of tiny tease, in its own right.

Your heart beats steadily at the sight, eyes watching. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right, then.” He scratches at his beard with one hand, still studying you with a tilt of his head. As if weighing what he should tell you. There was an air of intrigue but that did nothing to hide the hesitance. “I docked my boat in the sea cave, thought it would do more harm than good to leave it in the open. If you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have shown, eh?” The Fisherman points and you look to the deep indent in the mountainside, the tiny ship visible as it stays stationary. You blink at it slowly. 

“And you can call me whatever it is you like, I don’t bloody care, but I’m not inclined to tell one of the Merfolk my name—I may have come ‘ere, but I’m not fuckin’ daft, now.”

It was true, what he spoke of. Names to your people have a stark and violent purpose. To know one's name is to own a piece of that person’s soul. Songs gain more power, words grow into orders followed without thought. Not that it was your intention.

You glower, brows pulling in. 

“A simple fisherman does well to know that it’s rude to speak ill like such in another’s home.” The man smirks, cheeks rising. 

“Simple, am I?” The already expansive build of his shoulders widens as he leans back on his heels, water sloshing at his boots. His eyes glimmer like lighting with humor. The look makes your cheeks burn with warmth, throat swallowing saliva.

“Why are you here?” You avoid the question, treading water and letting your tail drift. Willing the water to cool your senses. It was obvious that this man wasn’t a hunter—foolish, perhaps, but no hunter.

Or maybe just confidently brave. 

The Fisherman hums under his breath, grunting in the way you’d already come to associate with him. Rugged fellow, really. Weathered like a pile of old rope but still handsome, the sinews under the stain of dirt pure of color. You found yourself, however apprehensive, enjoying the squareness of his face; how the brunette’s hair would sweep in the warm breeze. 

He was attractive.

“Fishing, Ma’am.” A broad sweep of one of his hands, “You have a proper cove. Plenty of places to cast.” 

Your tight arms somewhat loosen. 

“Just fishing?” Your voice darkens. “Then why is it you’re here on shore and not doing just that.” Tail flickering, it lightly brings you back from him, eyes always darting away to stare into the background of his form—at the dark shadows of trees behind the dark rocks. At the open mouth of the cove in case of extra ships. 

If what he told you earlier was true, you were in danger just by living. 

Extinct? Not seen in years? No, that can’t be right. A deep knot forms in your stomach.

“I may be human, Ma’am, but I believe myself to be above intrusion.” The Fisherman splays his hands by his waist and shifts his thighs. He seems serious again, like a wave going forward and back he seemed to always revert to a crafted visage of firm resolve. “This is your home, and I’m asking to ferry my boat here when able. Nothing else.” 

You blink in surprise, brows pulling back. 

He was…asking you? 

“I…own the cove no more than the Manticore owns the desert,” your voice stutters, oddly touched by his sincerity. You pause and push yourself farther above a wave. This large man didn’t seem cruel to you. “I have no claim on the waters—they have been here longer than I. Do as you wish.” 

While that should have been the end of it, you found his blue eyes continuing to watch you, head tilted like a shaggy dog. Thinking deeply with a slight parting of his lips and rising to his lids. 

At the intensity of his silent wonder, your head goes light. Had you said something strange? No, it was just the truth. Then…why was this man’s face going to a modest pink shade? Why were his eyes darting away from yours and his feet shifting? 

You narrow at him before he speaks, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” the Fisherman mutters, chest rumbling. 

A silence falls where your ears twitch to the lapping of the sea-foam and the feeling of blood in your veins which mirrors such movements. As you saw him do to you, your vision falls to the man’s body; looking across the tapering of his waist and the rolled sleeves of his tunic—showing off years of muscle 

“I don’t suppose…” Your tail flinches from the sudden noise from the brunette, expecting him to swim over to his boat and get to his business. You stare and listen, and for the first time, you believe a mermaid has been entranced by another's voice. “That I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

The Fisherman speaks slowly, hands shifting on his biceps; thighs tense and settle. You allow the waves to connect and slide around your body and a feeling reminiscent of warm rocks in the sun grows in your heart. 

Strange, this man. This serious-faced Fisherman who asks one of the Merfolk for permission over the waters we don’t control. You tilt your head to teasingly mirror the brunettes. He humphs in his throat at your action. I enjoy him. 

At the first sign of danger you’d leave—but for now…talking felt good.

“Perhaps,” you say, lips twitching into a smile. “Would this nameless Fisherman enjoy the company of a mermaid? Not many would say yes.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not like those many, then, yeah?” He smiles, a small twitch of his lips. You begin backing up, getting to deeper water while maintaining eye contact. “I don’t care what you are, just that we have an agreement.”

“Very well,” your neck dips under the waves, tail momentarily peaking above the surface. Blue flickers to it, shoulders lowering in hidden awe. The Fisherman’s lungs still. 

He hears your giggle before you dive under, disappearing swiftly down to your caves with a splash. 

It’s a long while before the brunette picks up his hat and begins walking the length of the shore—strong steps taking him back to his ship with a tiny smile brightening his ruggedly handsome face. 

He runs a hand over his chin and chuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

—

You perch on the side of the Fisherman’s boat, golden comb in your grip as you run it over and over through your locks. Tangles and knots are rendered useless to the fine and beautiful make of the object, the handle covered in small barnacles and seaweed. A nice breeze wafts in the air, and behind you, the padding of feet goes across the deck. With the sliding of nets and a small whistling from the Fisherman, you feel your tail gently sway from side to side; the bottom under the water whose waves rise and lower the vessel. 

It had been a week since your first meeting and you had become more relaxed about this man’s presence. He had been truthful—every day he would come and fish. 

At first, you’d watch from the black rocks, sitting atop them and studying. More than once you’d see the brunette raise a hand in greeting when his boat had entered the cove; an acknowledgment that you were there and nothing more. No expectation for you to come over or speak to him. 

Day after day you’d see the net being thrown from the side only to be reeled back by large arms, legs apart and firm to the deck. 

On day four, you swam over and grappled onto the side of the ship, curious. Before you could even realize he instantly knew you were there—despite his back being to you—the Fisherman spoke in a cheeky tone.

“Come up, then, if you’re that interested. No use watching from the water.” So you had, with a bit more fire to your cheeks than you thought mermaids could handle.

Now it was routine. The human man would pull into the cove and you would sit on the side of his fishing boat, doing whatever you wished as he worked. 

You pull your comb through the ends of your hair, placing it down after and closing your eyes before your hands grab the shiny strands, twisting them. Under your breath, you hum in tune with the Fisherman’s whistled song; the notes like a growing symphony in your head. 

Song to Merfolk is sacred and revered—everything sings, in its own right, and deserves careful crafting to fully understand. 

“You seem to enjoy that,” you startle to a stop, eyes popping open. Sharply looking over your shoulder, you pause your hands. Staring, the man has completely stopped his work; nets at his feet with slapping fish of all colors stuck in the rope’s limp weavings. 

He squints at your confused face.

“Rhythm.” 

“Oh,” you offer a smile and watch him look away only to kneel down and begin separating his quarry. “If you’re worried I’ll sing around you, think nothing of it—I know what that could cause.” 

The Fisherman hums, amused at you, “I’m not. I was complimenting you,” the knife at his belt glints in the light. “You have a pretty voice, Love.” 

You shyly watch him, hair partly covering your visage, and catch a glimpse once more at the necklace he seems to always wear. Silver and shiny but still hidden. 

“If you knew about my species, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Explaining lowly, the man grunts, sending a look your way as he tosses a Cod farther up the deck—you watch it flop around for a moment. 

“Well,” the Fisherman explains, hands pausing and body leaning closer as one of his knees connects to the wood. It’s a teasing whisper that slides into your drum, and you find yourself nearly shivering from it. Blue eyes twinkle with mischief. “I did. No worries, I’ll never tell.”

A deep chuckle joins a lighter one, and your tail shimmers in the open light; scales vibrant and rich-looking. From what the brunette can see on the deck—the smaller plates that extend all the way up your navel to stop at your belly button—you know he stares at them. 

Not a greedy, evil, stare…just one of hidden admiration. It was of no surprise to you that he found it beautifully uncanny.

You have no idea how to read this Fisherman; have no idea what he wants. You think he doesn’t want anything. On your face, a strange calm settles. 

“Tell me, Fisherman,” his gaze snaps from your scales to your face, momentarily stopping at the dip of your neck as you turn as fully to him as you’re able from your perch. Your hand rests at your side; spine twisted halfway. “Who are you? No, I don’t mean your name. I want your person. You don’t act afraid of me—of what I am.” He stays kneeling and lets the net rest for now, his heart beating steadily in his breast. “There is more to you than a human at sea, surely.” 

Your words are not accusatory, they lacked any sort of confrontation. Curiosity, though, like enclosed treasure, was stuck behind your tongue. He surprises you by standing and beginning to walk over, boots thumping. 

As he nears, he sits down with a huff on the edge, right next to you. 

There’s a moment when you both stare into each other's eyes as you feel the world shift. Blinking up at him, at the closer range you take into account the ancientness of his eyes and how it seemed, for such an alone man, it was making him look far older than he was. Still older than you, yes, but the sentiment still stands.

With his hat having been retired not five minutes earlier onto one of the many ship’s barren tops, you saw the streaks of sun-bleached strands in his brown hair. You unconsciously reach for your comb but stay your fingers as they flinch over the gold.

Storm-blue carefully glances away before coming back to you. 

“Not much to know, Love,” the Fisherman’s brow raises, “you understand?” 

“No,” you say, honestly, head tilting at him. He looks surprised, breath hitching. 

“It’s just…there’s not much to tell, Sweetheart.”

Humans are strange creatures.

Not knowing this word game, you take your hand away from the comb and bring it to his chest, slipping under the neck of his tunic to grasp at the necklace he always wears. A hand snaps to your wrist almost immediately—a startling speed that makes you flinch. 

Above your heads, seagulls squawk at you, but all you can gaze into are those pure blue orbs. They trap you, drag you down far faster than a whirlpool into the briny depths of hypnotic appeasement. 

Perhaps you were naive to the magical whims of males that walk on two feet.

The Fisherman’s jaw clenches, eyes tightly narrowed at you in hesitance and veiled threat. You blink at him softly, not doing anything besides twitching your fingers and widening your sight. Before long, his hold loosens but doesn’t leave, allowing you on whatever it was you were doing yet still touching your damp flesh.

Lips parting, you don’t make a fuss. Instead, you hum under your breath and allow his calluses to scrape you. The toughness becomes a stark contrast to your own make-up. 

Feels nice.  

Your digits peel out the article of jewelry and you shift closer to look; bare chest brushing against his. You can feel his pulse through the brunette’s tunic, the way his throat shifts in a tense swallow of nothing. 

The necklace held two pieces of small, round, silver and said the following. 

“Jonathan Price, Captain, 141st company under the King.”

As you read, your tail gradually begins brushing his leg in its swaying. Through it all, the large Fisherman only slants his chin down and watches, breathing half through his mouth and half through his nose. You hear his throat clear; feel his grip squeeze your wrist. 

It is a small and taken-aback kind of noise. He doesn’t move his hand.

You are happy he doesn’t. 

“You’re a…Captain?” Asking, you look up shocked and aren’t taken aback by how close your face was to his. Even if your cheeks begin to burn at the beard bristles itching your nose. 

“...Yes,” breathe puffs over the lower half of your face. Your fingers detangle from the Fisherman’s necklace and let it thump to his chest. “I was. Left.” 

Blinking, you whisper, steadily, “What’s a…Captain…?” 

A small sound is made in the back of his throat and he releases your wrist and pulls back before a loud bark of a laugh jerks his chest. You stare in innocent confusion, hair falling over your shoulders.

“What?” Gripping his mouth, Jonathan Price grounds himself by gripping his thigh as he chuckles.

“No, no,” he takes a deep breath and releases his face, smoothing down his beard quickly with amusement stuck in his smile. “Bloody hell, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, Love.”

He sends you a warm side glance and you huff, moving back and picking up your comb, getting back to brushing your locks again. You are acutely aware that you now know the Fisherman’s name, but refrain from saying anything until he does. Now you know why he reacted in such a way.

Your tail twitches in the water as fish brush past it and the brunette begins with a soft look. 

“I was in charge of a small group of men—we had a ship. Far larger than this old girl,” he pats the deck, and you slow your motion to show that you are listening, intrigued. “We did what was needed of us, but there was a thin line that needed to be drawn to keep every bastard sane.” 

Blue meets your eyes and the man’s expression darkens. Your fingers twitch as the breeze ravages his hair, chest tightening. 

“And yours?” You ask softly, entranced and open, “What was your line, Captain Price?” 

He hums after a small silence, sighing deeply. Along the hull of the boat, the waves rock the vessel gently side to side, and your mythical attention seems to entrap him far better than your voice could. His face loses that dark edge, well-trimmed beard relaxes as his jaw does. 

The past it seems, looms over him like a tsunami.

Reaching up a slow hand, his fingers brush the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of your hold and were dangling in front of your face; the Fisherman blinks and pushes them back behind your ear. By now your brush had long stopped and your breath was held in your chest. For the first time in your life, you think you feel yourself shiver at the delicate scrape of his skin on yours.

“John,” he mutters, and you suck down a shallow breath as he watches you like you were an idol of the Gods, “Just John.” 

Your smile leaves his fingers pressing deeper into your scalp and, perhaps a bit naively, you welcome him to you like a bird to the sky. You liked his gruffness—his beard and his face. The lines on his forehead that you could imagine tracing as if they belonged on a map instead of the squareness of this Fisherman’s profile. Tiny sockets that hold sapphire stones.

“Maybe I left because I couldn’t stand seeing such beautiful creatures being put to the hook, eh?” Your eyes widen, tiny gasp leaving your lips. 

Merfolk swooned with flattery, truth be told. They enjoy being doted on and praised; given gifts of both words and objects. You were no different. 

Oh…did he call me beautiful?

John smirks at your reaction, taking his hand off of you and standing with a low chuckle. Your tail flutters at the sudden absence, head following after him as he walks back to his net with a sway in his step. You blink in astonishment. 

“You’re a strange human, John,” calling to him, you grimace at the blatant disappointment in your bones at the lack of his skin on yours. At his humored hum, you sense your growing attraction to the grind of his vocal cords. His voice. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“Then think nothing of me,” he explains easily, casually, re-gathering his nets in his toned arms. You try not to let your jaw slacken at the bulge under his tunic when he carries them. “I’m not offended by it, Love.” A sly look, “Do as you wish.” 

Your tail twitches so violently you’re afraid you might break the side of the ship. 

And so this strange dance between the two of you continued well into the longer months—John would come in his ship nearly every day and you would join him on the side of the deck. Sometimes you would hum for him and he would whistle a tune back, others there were long bouts of conversation about the ways of humans and beasts. John told you that the King had ordered the total extinction of all manner of ‘strange and unordinary’ creatures to secure his line safely to the throne. 

When he had explained it, the mad had gone red with anger.

“Fuckin’ muppet,” he’d spit, fiddling with his knife as you watched a small distance away, playing with his silver necklace in your hands. You twiddled it around and liked how it shimmered like your scales did in the light. “Bloody thought I would just go along with the deaths of innocent beings. He had no facts—no proof to back up his claim. I’ve done things. Horrible things,” John explained to you, sending you a stiff look, “but I’ve not forsaken my damn mind to reality. Takin’ the piss.” 

Muttering the last sentence to himself, you had felt your lips curve into a smile. “You have a proper conscience, John, done bad or not.” 

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart, I’ll be done in soon enough.” You only stared with care-drowned eyes and caressed his necklace. When he had seen this, his body had deflated with an exasperated grunt. 

You shared a chuckle and he got back to work; feeling his melting gaze drawn back to you every so often. 

Later, yet again, you found your form on his boat, this time with his hands across the small of your back as you studied the blade of his knife.

“Careful, now. Don’t run your finger along the edge.” His free grip points to the sharp side—breath fanning your ear. You feel your throat tighten and nod, caressing a thumb on the leather handle. 

John’s hand is hard on your bare skin and you sense his heat drilling past your veins into the very marrow of your bones. You unconsciously sigh when his fingers slide slightly higher, traveling the length of your spine; his scars catching on every knob of bone. Your exploration stills and your pupils widen. 

His breath is on your neck, nose tilting as his jaw does just above the meat of your shoulder. 

“Why’d you stop?” You stare off into the metal, lashes fluttering when his fingers finally curve at the swell of your neck. Lips drag on your flesh before a deep grumble of affection stems from John’s chest as he kisses your rapid pulse. “Distracted? Hm.” 

“It’s,” you breathe out, scales reflecting light as your lower body shifts on the wood. His opposite hand circles your waist, drawing your back to his chest. Skin burns and thoughts go to liquid as you feel his roving muscle. “It’s g-good. Pretty—” 

Words fail you as his lips continue to slowly travel.

“Could say the same,” John grunts; beard scraping down your flesh. 

Your eyes flutter, head tilting to give more room at the same time you whisper out, violently shivering at the compliment, “John…” 

“What is it?” The grip moves to run over your scales, right where your upper hips would be; the sensation of him caressing you with gentle, deep, rubs of his thumb was all it took for you to give in completely to him. “Go on, Love, speak.” 

You take a breath and feel his heart beating steady along your back—the texture of his tunic. “What…are you doing?” 

John moves your hair and places open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. He breathes in your scent and you turn your light head to stare unabashedly at his flushed face. Your tail sways, limp, over the side of the boat. 

Blown pupils hide that sea-storm blue like a lock and key to dangerous thoughts and attraction. 

In answer, his eyes flicker down to your lips hungrily and your gaze widens; a small sound in the base of your throat. 

“You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” He says and you let him lean in closer to your face, eyes threatening to close when you take in the musk of human flesh and sweat. Rope and wood oil. John’s words make you shiver again, hairs standing on end—responding to that deep growl with a roaring in your ears. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Shouldn’t be enjoying his lips or his tight grip; his…his rough, large, hands that encapsulate your body and drown you. It terrifies you, this heart-stopping magnetism. You can’t get enough of him.

John presses his firm lips to yours, groaning into the connection as you sigh and part your mouth. Fingers shaking, you twist and place your hands on his chest, gasping mutely as his teeth nip into your lower lip and pull back before pushing back forward. Sparks of subdued pain mix with pleasurable agony at the scrape of his beard hair.

 “Every inch of you…” John’s grip captures you closer, hands ensnaring you against his chest like deeply intertwined strands of fabric, squeezing as he licks his upper lip. He catches his breath shallowly. Blue eyes burn through you. “...is fucking perfection.”  

You grab at his necklace and drag him back in, feeling him not waste a single moment to grip the back of your head and keep you trapped to him, tongues slipping out of mouths to tangle together like seaweed. Perhaps it was foolish, but a part of you knew that this Captain, this strange Fisherman—this Johnathan Price—was the only man or being on this planet, land or sea, who could make you feel like you could walk and fly all at once. 

When he lifts you in his arms and drops you in his lap as if your body weighed as much as a pebble, you knew you’d brave the open ocean for this man in an instant. His arm drips with water as it slips under the joint of your tail; where your knees would be if you had them, and you whine into his mouth at the slip of his fingers. 

Intoxicated, drunk off of his scent and his pressure. 

A dangerous mix of two different lives. 

It couldn’t last.

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[semischarmed]

Thread

Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.

= = = = =

The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane. 

Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability. 

I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle. 

I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.

- - - - 

I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative. 

Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded. 

And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.

I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.

— - - - - -

“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.

“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.

“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.

I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”

I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.

“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”

He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch. 

“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times. 

Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.

“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man. 

I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”

I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”

A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.

With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.

The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.

“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.

= = = = =

When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned. 

Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”

I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.

“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe. 

“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.

“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.

I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.

Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.

“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.” 

“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“

“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.

Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.

“Joey- who is that?”

I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.

I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths. 

“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.

“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.

Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder. 

I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.

I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.

With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat. 

I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”

Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock. 

What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.

Just my luck. 

Charlie.

= = = = =

A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.

#male puppet #male corruption

[zer0pm]

Imagine demanding Luis to unlock your chains. When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands.

A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY PART 2 OF THIS PIECE?!

You did and I’m grateful for all the love that has been thrown for my work. So here’s me giving some of that love back. Hope you enjoy 🙏

Warning: SMUT AHEAD. Look away, minors! Look away! Avert your eyes from the sexual content! Shoo! Begone!

Warning 2: It’s quite long so mentally prepare yourself.

.

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“I still didn’t catch your name.”

The cheek on this guy. Using the fact that he holds the key to your restraints as a bargaining chip to become familiar with you. As if he hadn’t just forced you into a partnership with him already. The absolute nerve. You had more important things to do, such as finding Leon and the president’s daughter. And this Luis Serra was effectively wasting your precious time. Well, two can play this game.

You start by offering him an inviting smile before relaxing your hands until your palms pressed flat against his chest. The man didn’t seem to fully register your subtle movement until you slid them upwards, feeling the fine leather beneath your fingertips. The motion takes him by surprise, his eyes following your touch. He then casts an inquisitive glance your way.

“¿Que haces?” Apparently he wasn’t expecting this, convinced that you didn’t much care for him and thus was taken so off guard that he slipped into his native tongue. He must have remembered himself right after as he repeated the question, making sure that it sounded more direct. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Voice comes out in a low, sultry drawl as you grip the lapel of his jacket with one hand, gently tugging at the material. “I’m about to give you what you want. But I’m going to need you to come closer.”

Once you were certain that you had his complete attention while also making sure that you didn’t lose yourself in the mesmerizing grey of his eyes, you make your move. With your other hand, as best as the chains allowed, you reach for the key that was lodged in the lock of your chains. Disguising your intention, you run your fingers down the expanse of his chest in an explorative manner. This earned an appreciative hum from the Spaniard as he leans his head towards you expectantly.

Too easy.

Mindful not to look down between you two so as to not give yourself away, you lean in as well while also blindly searching for the key. “My name is…” you whisper. His bated breath mingles with yours, the lids of his eyes heavy, grey growing dark in anticipation. Another inch from either one of you and the gap will close. Just as your fingertips touched the end of the key, something warm firmly grips your hand. A sudden chill runs down your spine.

You can hear the reverb of something between a scoff and a chuckle come from Luis’ lips. “Nice try,” he smirks knowingly.

With a strength that catches you off guard, he pushes you away from him. Key in hand. He flaunts the tiny piece of metal before swinging his arm as if he was making a play to toss it aside. In your panic, you jump towards him, shoving him off balance with your shoulder. He breaks your fall as you two tumble down together.

The man curses in Spanish from the sudden pain and you took advantage of this by quickly searching for the key. You spot it a bit of a ways above Luis’ head and use both bound hands to reach for it once more. The chain that links your wrists together are caught by a familiar hand and suddenly pulled down until your hands were restrained between your two bodies once more. You sigh in frustration and the man beneath you clicks his tongue against his teeth.

There is an amused glimmer in his gaze as he speaks. “The stubborn-type, eh? All this trouble over a name.”

You in turn throw him an annoyed glare. “I was going to say the same about you.”

Instead of showing offense, he laughs. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you might think.”

Rather than entertain him further, you try to wrestle against his hold. Luis seemed prepared for it this time, matching your strength, only he had the advantage as he had free reign of his arms and hands. One hand kept your chained hands between your chests, the other gripped at the bicep of your arm, effectively minimizing upper body movement. Out of instinct, you rebelliously wriggle with your hips and legs with the sole focus of getting off of him. However, the man’s longer limbs kept you caged against him and the only thing you managed to do was awkwardly seat your bottom on him, knees bent by his sides.

When you grounded down in your struggle, the man tensed below you. Thinking you have finally one-up him, you repeated the action and noticed he wasn’t nearly putting up as good a fight as he did before. This allowed you to sit upright, dragging his hand with you until his arm extended slightly, and you continued your efforts to be free of him.

Luis’ breath became labored. “Stop.” he commands with gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. When you didn’t listen to him, he moved his other hand from your arm to your hip, squeezing harshly in warning.

“¡Basta! Stop moving!” he growls.

You bark back defiantly, “I’ll get off when you let me get the fuckin-“

That’s when you felt it. Or rather- him. A hardness pressed beneath your nether region. Despite the layers of fabric, there was no mistaking the telling throbbing pushing up against you as if demanding your attention below.

Your throat runs dry but your brain kept sending signals to your mouth. “Ar…. Are you-“

“Sí.” the man had a pained, conflicted look about him, a picture of breathtaking self-control as he kept his body completely still. His eyes didn’t meet yours, gaze locked upon where your hips met as if to keep himself in check and not allow his body’s desires to act out untowardly.

“Surely you know how the human body works,” he tries to sound clinical, face strained in vague distress, “and will not fault me for the involuntary reactions of mine. It already doesn’t help that you’re easy on the eyes.”

You should be chastising him for getting excited when it was neither the time or place and danger was surely around the corner, but bit your lip at your own wave of pleasure upon feeling his arousal pulse. A totally different kind of heat washes over you.

What do you do now?

Neither of you spoke for a moment, a tense silence settling in until Luis breaks it with a forced cough.

“Well, this is- uh, fun.” he says without humor. “Pero, perhaps we can call it even and stop the game here. ¿Sí?”

His words went in one ear and out the other. You were frustrated beyond belief. Fueled by adrenaline and temptation. There was no one around. And you have an impossibly handsome Spanish man between your legs with a hard-on for you.

When you didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “As much as I like this position, I must regrettably ask that you- Whoa!”

As best as you could, you shoot your bound hands straight up in the air. As he still had a grip on the chain link, Luis was dragged upright into a seated position from the floor and his face stopped right in front of yours. The movement caused friction in both of your sensitive areas, mouths could do nothing to stop the groans that escaped them. His eyes open to your heated gaze, confusion and desire swirling in the grey irises.

You breathe, “You talk too much, Luis Serra.”

And it was you who closed the distance. Teeth and tongue clashed in a new battle filled with pent-up energy and lust. Your mind quickly becomes hazy as you allowed yourself to be consumed in his emanating heat and musky scent. A nip at his bottom lip earned you an enthusiastic thrust of his hips, an appreciative squeeze at your bottom rewarded him with a carnal moan from your mouth. The only time you pulled back was for air and the man before you glances between your dazed eyes and bruised lips, hypnotized by your already ruined appearance.

“Are we, uh, still playing the same game?” His question nearly disarms you. You have a feeling he was really asking if you were of sound of mind about this. Your eyes roll reflexively.

“Really going to keep running your mouth?” You then follow up with a roll of your hips, the Spaniard throws his head back with a deep, guttural groan. Dark wavy locks brush against his cheekbones, eyes shut closed. With his thick neck exposed, you steal kisses along his sensitive pulse and stubbled jaw. Another primal groan vibrates from his throat.

“Eres muy mala.” Luis grumbles without a hint of disdain. Rather, when you finally pull back to allow him to look at you, you find him wearing that familiar cocky smirk. “But I must admit, I’m kind of into it.”

A charmer through and through this man is. His next move takes you by surprise.

He shoves you off of him.

As soon as you recover from your initial shock, the dark-haired man grabs you by the chain again and drags you to the far end of the room, further away from the key and exit. Using his strength and your own momentum against you, Luis tosses you forward. Your upper body lands right on top of a wide metal table propped against the dingy concrete wall.

He takes advantage of your momentary state of confusion by forcing your arms to extend towards the wall. It wasn’t until you heard the unmistakable click of metal did you fully regain your senses and look up to see what he did. The arrogant man used one of the wall mounts to lock your chains taut in place. He literally chained your chains. You’re caught in a trap again!

Just as you were about to curse him out, you feel something hard press firmly against your bottom followed by a pair of warm hands settling at your hips and the heat you didn’t realize you were missing came back in throes. You almost wanted to point out how unfair the shift in dynamic was, but all coherent thoughts were thrown out the window when he started grinding into you.

“There,” Luis hums at your apparent silence, “much better.”

Damn him. And he had the gall to say you were bad.

His movements were slow and methodical, like he was testing the waters to see if you were actually fine with this. Your pleased sighs were the signs he needed to continue and go beyond. Next, you feel his curious hands rubbing at your sides over your shirt before he lifts it enough to slip them beneath the fabric. Feeling his skin on yours sent chills throughout your body. His touch wanders, palming at your every curve, line, and muscle and you melted into his hands, encouraging his exploration.

The temperature in the room was becoming unbearably hot. As if hearing this thought, you were pulled up by your torso as far as the chains would allow and felt your back meet his chest. Now, his hardness was at your lower back and you purposefully melded your backside against his straining cock, mentally drawing the length of him. Needless to say, without even seeing it, you were impressed by his size. The man didn’t carry himself confidently without warrant. A soft, almost adoring kiss upon the shell of your ear pulls you from your shameless thoughts.

He whispers hoarsely, “My friend, are you particularly fond of this shirt?”

“What?” you manage to choke out. “Why are you aski-”

The sound of tearing answered your question before you can finish it. Tattered fabric scatters around your feet and the air within the room suddenly felt like soft caresses on your bare torso.

“You didn’t even let me answer!” Your voice sounded more excited than annoyed.

“Lo siento. You were too slow.” Luis presses another chaste kiss to the side of your head. However, you can practically feel his wicked grin. “And frankly, are much too sexy for clothing, anyways.”

Damn, this man was making you feel things.

Despite your skin now bare against the elements, it did little to alleviate the heat building within you. It only amplified when his hands returned to your form, making a slow, sinful journey from your stomach to your upper chest. The pad of his fingers push upon the sensitive buds of your nipples, earning a wanton gasp from your lips. His hips jerk forward at the sound you made, his erection pulsing against your ass, sparking tiny, wonderful jolts of electricity within you. The sensations were making your toes curl.

One hand sneaks back down, his thumb finding it’s way under the hem of your jeans and underwear. His reach teases towards your sensitive spot and you bite your lip in anticipation, wanting so badly for him to touch you where you need him to but your mind too much of a mess to voice it into proper words.

“Mírate,” his warm breath fans against your ear in hoarse, gentle whispers. “Promixa vez… Te quiero llevar a la cama.”

You only manage to translate “Next time…” until the synapses in your brain fire all at once when his fingers began to toy your sex without warning. When his skillful hand deftly undid your jeans, you didn’t know, but at the moment, you didn’t care.

Holy hell. This guy was playing your body like a fine-tuned instrument and your voice eagerly sounded to his ministrations. Your moans and gasps music to his ears. The coil in the pit of your stomach was tightening to the point of snapping as his hand quickened the pace upon your bundle of nerves. He was stroking you graciously while also harshly grinding you into the edge of the table from behind. Your voice was reaching greater heights from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations.

“Last chance, my friend.” Luis growls, barely reigning in his instinct to simply bend you over and have his way with you. “Are we still playing the same game?”

The same question echoes. He asks one thing but really means another. This dashing, infuriating man is asking you if you want to go all the way, past the point of no return. Luis Serra is a stranger. Yet he had the sense and consideration to weigh your feelings in the matter, giving you an choice to opt out even though it would have been so easy to let it lie and let your baser instincts take over. It was almost romantic in a way. You didn’t have to think twice about this.

“Either you fuck me now,” you pant, chains clinking around your wrists, “or I’ll find my way out of these and fuck you myself.”

Luis chuckles lowly in intrigue. “¿Prometes?”

He makes quick work on the rest of your clothing, letting your pants and underwear fall at your ankles. He helps guide you completely out of them. It was probably a strange sight. You completely exposed while he was completely clothed. The only bits of him you can hear rustling is the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his pants coming undone. You were starting to shiver from anxious chills until you felt an arm wrap around you assuringly.

A patient hand gently fingers your entrance, preparing your body for something larger. You eventually move along rhythm of his fingers, goading him to take it to the next level and he acquiesces to your silent request. The heavy heat of his cock that was poking between the gap of your thighs move upwards. Your body instinctively tenses when the head of his member prods against your opening. Luis’ lips pressed against your temple in comfort and finally, finally, he slowly sinks into you. You gasp and he curses.

No amount of foreplay could have prepared you for him. Not all the way in and already you felt so full of him, his cock throbbing against every sensitive nerve inside of you. You whimper in both pain and pleasure and Luis tends to you by wrapping his arms around your middle, planting more kisses along the side of your head right behind your ear.

“Estoy aquí, ángel. Té tengo.”

Like the gentleman he portrays himself to be, he waits for you to relax around him. With great self-control, he pumps into you slowly with a tenderness that could bring tears to your eyes. The initial discomfort soon faded and was replaced by wonderful bouts of sensual ecstasy that has you gasping. Luis keeps up the pace with gusto, nearly pulling all the way out and slamming back into you. The pressure he was piling inside you with every thrust has you screaming to the point that you can feel your voice growing hoarse. Meanwhile, you can hear him moaning his praises for you in his birth tongue. This man wasn’t just talking himself a big game. He knows what he’s doing, fueling his pleasure by ensuring your own. And he was making certain that you chased yours fast.

He pulls out and you involuntarily whimper at the loss of contact. You weren’t left alone for long as he lifts you to lay on your side on the table, your hands forced to rise above your head at this new position. Luis grabs a hold of one of your legs and bends it at the knee over his shoulder, entering your heat once more. Your blood boils fiercely at this new angle, you can see him and everything he was doing to you. And he can see you’re practically rendered speechless with every powerful thrust. At this rate, you weren’t going to last. The fluttering inside your core now popping like firecrackers.

Sweat pours down his handsome face, pupils dilated black with desire for you. “¿Cómo te llamas, ángel? Tell me. And I’ll give you what you want.”

He’s asking for your name again. The catalyst behind this whole affair. “Really bent on that, aren’t you?” you manage to pant out, your lungs barely keeping up with each strong snap of his hips.

“I wasn’t at first, only wanted to tease you.” He groans, his voice finding difficulty to stay level when he’s fucking into you without abandon. “But now- ah! I really want to know. I want to call out your name. ¡Joder! Let me call out your name, mi amor.”

The way he was begging tugged at you deep. Your name was on the edge of your tongue, but your heart was gripped with fear. Fear that if you so much as uttered what he’s asking of you, the spell would be broken and you’d be left unsatisfied. This felt too damn good to risk ruin with sentimentality. So you did what you have been doing best. Prevaricate. And make him want you more.

“Uncuff me. And I’ll tell you anything. Anything you want.”

You feel the vibrations of a laugh rumble deep from his chest.

“Eres tan… ¡Mierda!”

Like a cord finally snapping, the dam breaks and everything building inside spills out with a long, final cry of ecstasy. Stars dotted your vision, for a moment you forgot to breathe as you feel yourself unraveling. Within, you feel him cumming inside as well. Liquid hot ropes painting your insides, leaving you quivering uncontrollably. His hips slow to an eventual stop, his voice coming out in soft, satisfied sighs.

Slowly letting your leg down, Luis pulls himself out and hovers over you, hands flat beside your head. The man peppers your back and shoulders with soft nips and kisses. His stubble makes slow, sensual scratches along your skin as he reaches up to the flesh of your ear, biting onto the lobe affectionately. You turn your head to meet his lips with yours, noting how wonderful his kisses feel. He pulls away slightly to study you intently, varying emotions flashing over his eyes.

“Now,” he started, “about that name.”

Back at this again. You had to admire the man for his tenacity. “Told you already,” you huff once your breath returned to you, tugging at the chains around your wrist. “Remove these cuffs and I’ll think about it.”

His voice cracks in disbelief, “That was not what you said- ¿En serio? After all of that?”

“You’re more than welcome to keep working for it.” The words left your lips before you can stop them and an amused groan escapes from Luis’ own, sending another sinful heat to flow down your core.

“Eres muy mala.” He sighs with a shake of his head. There was no hint of annoyance in his husky tone, a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “Hanging with you- not healthy.”

“Right back at ya.” The remark earned a swift smack on your ass. You almost yelp out of reflex and shifted your eyes to glare at him.

The way he looked at you, however, tells you that he wasn’t against the idea of going again. And truthfully, you were all for it. Luis leans over to capture your lips once more, sweet and filled with promise, while his hand began to wander your body mischievously. The familiar tingle of heat starts to boil inside-

The alarming sound of inhuman groans down the hall jolts you two from your intimate high. Spell broken and you fully take in your nakedness in this increasingly dire situation.

“Get these chains off, Luis!”

“¡Sí, sí! Right away!”

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra imagine #luis serra x reader #my writing #resident evil imagines #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4 luis #zer0pm imagine #gender neutral reader #reader is gender neutral #it’s been awhile since I’ve written smut so go easy on me #there are no words that can describe luis’ spice level #luis serra smut #this was way longer than I initially planned #hope you enjoy #not a Spanish speaker #barely proofread #so screw it we die like luis #will edit for mistakes as I go so bear with me #it’s like midnight here lol #reader finds clothes eventually #probably steals luis’ jacket #legend has it that to this day he still didn’t catch their name #luis nearly trips over the forgotten corpse in the room while putting his dick away fr fr

[ghstzzn]

til kingdom come | choi jongho

pairing: choi jongho x f!reader wc: 6k

summary: being hip to hip with your new bodyguard (technically, your punishment) isn't as bad as you thought.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, royal au, strangers to lovers, princess reader, fingering, unprotected sex, soft sex tbh, no part 2, idk if i need to add more

note: another re-upload from my deleted account yunho-mp3, if it's familiar, that is why. c:

Biting back yet another yawn, you continue to stare at the map placed on the wall behind your fathers desk. The same big, stupid map of the kingdom your father ruled and this is the fourth time you’ve stared at it this week, except this time it wasn’t for a silly meeting about your future endeavors. More like, your past ones.

“Are you listening, Y/N?” You’re quickly pulled out of your daze. 

“Huh?”

Your father sighs, straightening out his robe while your mother shakes her head in disappointment. “You are to be the lady of another land in the near future. We cannot have you acting like a child.”

“I’m not acting like a child!” You whine back. 

“Child, you will listen to your Mother.” Your father demands and you slump back into your spot on the couch. 

“This is your final warning, as I will no longer tolerate sneaking out!” Your mother begins, “You are a lady of this kingdom and we cannot have you be making a fool of yourself. You are to stay within the walls of this castle.”

You sit up once again, almost too fast for your head. “Not even the gardens?”

“Can we trust you to stop at the gardens?” Your father asks. 

You nod your head violently, sure you were upset about being pretty much locked away, but at least you had the gardens. Your safe place. “I promise.”

Your parents turn to face each other, giving a small nod of approval before facing you again. 

“Once more, Y/N,” Your father gives you a stern look, one that you should be afraid of. “Once more, and I will see to it that your marriage plans come way sooner than you want. I’ve pushed it off for your sake, but I am at my wits end with you, my child.”

You flinch slightly at your fathers threat. You had spent countless nights begging for any marriage plans involving you to be pushed back as far as possible, as you weren’t quite ready to be sold off (though your mother is not a fan of that word.) to some spoiled, ill-mannered son of a Lord who cheats on his wife regularly. They often say, like father, like son. 

“Yes sir.”

And with that you hurriedly walk off to your quarters, not wanting to stick around for any extra scoldings for whatever else you had done wrong in the past week. Though you can't hear it, your parents do continue.

“We are too soft on the child.” 

“You helped create her, my dear husband.” Your mother responds, making her way to him. She now stands behind your father with her hands on his shoulders, softly rubbing circles into his skin. “She reminds me so much of your younger days.”

Your father sighs, “My threat is no joke.”

“I know that, my love. As does she.” 

“Though, I do not wish for the outcome so soon,” your father stands from his chair, “see to it that it does not have to happen.” 

“And I’m too soft on her?” Your mother lets out a giggle, “As you wish, my king.”

“And you are?” You stand in the castle's library face to face with a stranger, a handsome stranger, in light armor. You were about to make your exit before an arm was suddenly thrown in front of your body.

“Choi Jongho, princess.” He looks down at you. Is he seriously glaring? “The queen sent me.”

“And?” You ask, with an obviously annoyed look from his vague answer.

Jongho lowers his arm and straightens out, “I’m from the kingsguard. Starting today, I am to be at your side for almost every minute of the day.”

“What?!” You almost shout from the shock.

“Orders from her majesty, m’lady,” Jongho smirks, “A few complaints about a princess not following mere rules.”

“So, what? You’re to follow me around, up my ass for the rest of my life? Did my mother really send you over this?” You ask, obviously exaggerating the terms of his commands. 

“If that’s what it takes.” He replies, “Though I’m not too interested in following you inside of any washrooms. Unless necessary.”

“It’s not. Plus, I’d command you’d wait outside anyways.” 

“Unfortunately, that is not up to you. My commands are from the queen only.” Jonghos smirk still has not fallen. “Only if you truly need my help or protection, I’m here to watch and protect. Unless of course, I am needed in any of your private rooms, my princess?”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “Gross. And to think you’re of the kingsguard.”

Your eyes glance from the book in your hands to Jonghos face. His stupidly attractive face. He only stands still.

“Every second?” You ask, though it comes out as a whine.

“Almost every second, princess. Not how I’d spend my day but I have a job to do, nevertheless.” He replies, “A punishment for both, I’d say.” 

“I am going to ignore that. And could you drop the noble terms? Not like you answer to my commands, anyways.” 

“Sure.” Jongho says, dropping all formality. (If he even had any.) “Go on.”

You give him one last annoyed glance before making your leave, hearing the soft clank of his light armor as he follows behind. Your father was sure to get an earful later.

Sat in one of the many common rooms of the castle, you read your book, glancing up at the man assigned to you as you flip each page. Though it was hard to read when you could physically feel his eyes on you at times. 

This time you look up, instead of awkward eye contact, you catch him as he watches outside the window, staring into the garden below. You couldn’t deny such beauty that he wore on his face, almost as if the gods took their special time with him. Especially his hair, you could imagine running your fingers through- what? You sigh and return your attention to your book. Not being able to focus, you decide to break the silence.

“What did you do?” You ask suddenly. Jongho turns to you, confusion evident on his face. “You said punishment for us both… What did you do?”

“Is it of your concern?” He asks in return.

The question left you quite flustered. “I just wanted to make conversation. You know, you are going to be watching me for the gods knows how long.”

“I don’t believe I’m here to befriend you.” And with that he returns his attention outside the window once more. Leaving you irritated and flustered. You mumble a few words at him before turning your body to face a different direction than him.

Jongho watches your back. He didn’t have to be rude, no, but he really did not have plans to get close to you. He was to finish this job and get back to his life and friends in the kingsguard. He can already hear the teasing from them, though it's half their fault he’s in this situation anyway.

You really hoped he over exaggerated when he said almost every second, but he meant almost every second. It had been a fortnight since Jongho was commanded to be at your side. The sun had set hours ago and he was currently guarded below your window. You technically didn’t need him in the castle at night, mostly because your sneaking out involved you leaving out the window. You would feel bad but you had seen another guard take Jonghos spot during the night for long hours at a time (you had stayed up multiple times to fact-check yourself.), so you weren't worried too much about the man.

Your days with Jongho were still slightly awkward, as he refused to hold long conversations with you, only answering most of your constant questions. At this point you did it to watch him become annoyed with you. It was payback for your first encounter and him avoiding you otherwise. 

You toss and turn in your large bed before finally sitting up in defeat. You relight the lanterns and candles around your bed and grab a book from your shelf. Plopping back onto your plush bed, you try to focus on the words of your book. With a frustrated sigh you slam the book close after one paragraph. It was moments like this you wish you could crawl out of your window and make your way to the night markets and surround yourself with the people of the kingdom. The music and lights made you feel less lonely and more alive. Or you would sit by the beach, watching the stars disappear as the sun rises, always stealing a bottle of wine from your fathers study for the trip. At least you had the garden.

You sit up from your bed and make your way towards the window, looking down to spot Jongho. You almost feel disappointed to see the other guard instead of the familiar face. Not wanting to ask the unknown guard to accompany you, you decide to just sneak to the gardens by yourself. Though it was allowed, you didn’t want to get caught without Jongho. 

You tiptoe your way through the large castle, shutting doors behind you as softly as you can. You didn’t bring a lantern, in case anyone were to be awake it’d draw too much attention. While continuing your journey to the garden, you hear a loud creek from behind you. Immediately stopping in your tracks, you turn around in a panic. You weren’t sneaking out beyond the garden, but you know it’d be hard to defend yourself when questioned by either of your parents at this moment.

When you hear nothing else, you pull your silk robe closer and turn around. You were greeted by a hard chest, before thinking you were going to scream. In an instant, a hand covers your mouth and your arm is grabbed. You look up at the figure before you start thrashing your body, only to see Jongho. Though it's dark, the moonlight through the large windows illuminates his face just enough for you to not panic.

You slap his chest and he releases his grip on you. “You terrify me!”

“Must I muzzle you?” You hold up your hands to block any further actions from the man in front of you. “What are you doing? Making an escape as soon as you saw I had left?”

“You say that as if I’m held captive.” You reply, “I’d like to sit by the garden.”

“And you were going by yourself?” He questions.

You roll your eyes and walk around Jongho, continuing your walk to the garden. “You may follow, if that's what you want.” 

Jongho stands in his spot as you make your way to the final door leading outside, as soon as you exit, he moves to follow behind. 

You inhale deeply and exhale as you find your spot on the bench. There are a few lanterns keeping the large garden lit, the rest of the lighting was left to the moon. The garden was beautiful, but you found it in its true glory when nobody was around. Silence filled the air as Jongho had made his way to the gazebo where you were sitting.

“Just can’t keep away from me, can you?” you say, softly giggling when he gives no acknowledgment to your words.

You brought your knees up to your chin and studied the way the wind softly blew against the plants. Though Jongho was silent behind you, it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it’d be. In fact, it was almost comforting to have someone so close. 

A few minutes of silence passed before Jongho spoke up. “I- well, we were intoxicated. We had two nights off and we used one to celebrate within the kingsguard.”

“What?” You look towards Jongho, confused. Not having a clue of what he was talking about. 

Jongho brought his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing it. “You had asked, almost two weeks ago, why I called this a punishment.”

“Oh.” You giggled. “And you were drunk?”

“Too drunk,” He replies with a small smile, turning his gaze elsewhere. “We had brought it to the streets, where we were caught by some nobles of the castle. They had told the king, it was around your scoldings when they had decided to just punish me that way.”

“And the others?” 

“Ah, they weren’t the ones to bite back at the nobles.” Jongho says shyly.

You let out a hearty laugh, not expecting his reply. “Oh, please tell me you remember!”

“I don’t, not sure if that’s good. But as you know I have a slight authority issue, especially when inebriated.” 

You continue to giggle softly as you return your focus to the flowing garden, “Thank you, Jongho.”

He nods, you can't see it but he nods. Not sure if either of you knew what you were thanking him for, but there was an understanding between you both. A mutual feeling. Jongho places himself in front of the railing, leaning against it. You take this moment to study him as he is now in front of you. Your eyes scan over his casual clothing, it suited him. The loose clothing but yet so perfectly fitted where it was needed. The breeze pushed his white shirt against him, outlining his muscles in his biceps and chest, you couldn’t help it when your eyes traveled over his arms. Taking in each detail under his rolled up sleeves. Your eyes make their way back to his face, where he was looking right back at you. You blushed deeply, thanking the night as it masked the color of your cheeks, yet you couldn’t look away. Instead you gaze over his face. 

He was truly a beautiful man, it didn’t surprise you of his visuals as you have seen many attractive men. But he truly captivated you. What is such a man doing in the kingsguard? You don't let yourself think further when he chuckles and turns his head towards the garden again.

“Where did you wander at night?” Jongho asks suddenly, ripping your attention away from his face. Were you seriously just swooning over your bodyguards looks?

“The night markets,” you reply, “I bring a pouch of coins and make my way around. People of the kingdom are truly talented, you know?”

Jongho doesn't reply, instead he lets you continue talking. He wouldn’t tell you now but he’s grown to like your voice, and how you ramble. Even growing to like your purposely annoying questions.

“The food there, it’s nothing like in the castle. There are times I’ve taken recipes back to our chefs.” you continue. “Oh and Jongho, the people! It may not be of your liking, but the music, dancing and the social aspects are out of this world. How I could spend the rest of my days down there.”

“I’ve been a few times with Wooyoung, another member of the kingsguard,” He says, “the two of you would mingle greatly.” 

You smile at him, “They have animals down there too. Horses, birds and snakes.”

Hugging your knees tighter, you lay your head on your knees and let silence fall once again. You haven’t attended the markets in about three weeks, since you were caught sneaking back into the castle's gates. They only happened once a week so you always made sure to go as much as possible, it was one of the things that brought you the most joy throughout your days. The castle was boring and could be suffocating. And the weeks before meeting Jongho were just talks of possible marriages to other families if your mother were to give birth to a son soon. 

“Jongho?” He faces you, “Would you come with me to the beach? I would love to show you where else I go, if it is possible.”

“I’m unsure if this is a smart idea, princess.” Jongho replies. Though it is technically your title, the phrase made your heart warm. No way, Y/N.

You bite your lip, in search of how to convince him to go with you, or else you would have to sneak out at another time. “Oh, please! Jongho, I’m sure you would enjoy it, only for a bit?”

“And just last week you were complaining to the queen about my presence, were you not? Shall we go then? Quickly, as I am not trying to lose my job or my head.” 

You blush in excitement, but also embarrassment as you recall the outburst you had with your mother with Jongho present. You quickly rise from your spot to lead the way.

“Mother, I seriously do not understand this arrangement!” You shout across the table. Jongho was to your right, looking away in second-hand embarrassment and awkwardness. 

Your mother slams her hands on the table, “Young lady, watch your tone! The king is present, as is Jongho!”

You pout and slam your back against the dining chair.

“I have no privacy, and I feel confined to this castle.”

“We do what we must to teach you your lesson, in a few months may we revisit this conversation.” Your father steps in. “Now eat your meal. Kingsguard, that applies to you as well.”

“As you wish, our king.” Jongho replies, shyly picking up his utensils to eat.

“A few months?! Unbelievable!” You protest.

“The weather is absolutely beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?” You ask Jongho. You both had arrived at the beach after a short walk, well it seemed short. The walk consisted of small talk between the two of you, much to your surprise. You aren't so used to Jongho being responsive to you. Now, you sit in the sand, side by side but not too close. Though, a small part of you wishes he was closer to feel his body heat. Snap out of it, Y/N. He is just here under mothers commands!

“I would,” he replies, “I’ve not come here often. The sky meets well with the ocean.”

You smile widely at his response, having to look away to not embarrass yourself in front of the man whom you're not sure even enjoys your presence. 

“Say, Jongho.. forgive me if I’m being wrong, but would you tell me about yourself?” You suddenly ask. “Were you born here?”

“Ah, what is there to know? I was born here, yes, though I was orphaned at a very young age until I joined the royal military.”

You didn’t know which was more unexpected, him answering or the answer he gave.

“My.. Jongho, I apologize but you were orphaned?” You ask but with hesitance. Not wanting to overstep boundaries with him too soon.

Jongho leans back on his hands in the sand, “No apology needed. My father is a fisherman, I haven't seen him since I was a toddler. But my mother passed away while giving birth to my younger brother.”

You offer your condolences but he waves them off, “Your brother, where is he now?”

“Safe, I hope. My grandmother took him in after I joined the guard.” He replies, “she wanted to take me in too but I could not leave at that point.”

“Jongho, I’m sure my father would let you leave for them! Have you asked?”

“He’s offered, but I am content with visiting them as much as I do. I have a family here.”

“The rest of the kingsguard? I’ve seen some of them around.” He nods, you don’t push further. Leaving that conversation where it’s at.

The sun starts to peak from the horizon, and you let yourself relax into the sand. Jongho doesn’t mention the time, which you're thankful for. You needed to get out of the walls of the castle, you could understand your parents' punishment for you but you could not fight off the feelings of claustrophobia and loneliness in the large castle, making you stir crazy. 

The sun continues to rise and now it’s Jonghos turn to study you. Were you always this beautiful? Maybe he was also going crazy, his job is to just watch over you and offer protection if needed. But why is he becoming comfortable around you? Perhaps it was just your effect on people. He thinks back to what you told him about the night markets, wondering if the people there thought the same of you. He lets his eyes travel to your face and body, as carefully as he can. But quickly looks away when he feels himself get comfortable doing so.

“Thank you, princess.” He clears his throat, “for bringing me here. I’m sure this spot means well to you.”

You smile, “I hope to show you the night markets soon.”

A month has passed since your early morning at the beach with Jongho. As if a door had opened, your relationship with him blossomed. Nothing too deep but it was a start. Your conversations were longer, in fact, Jongho and you had talked for the remainder of your time at the beach and the entire walk back, even wishing each other a good night's rest. You giggled to yourself as you tried to sleep, replaying the conversations in your head like a young girl who had a crush. 

Now you even found yourselves playfully bickering with each other. Having personal jokes and even landing playful swats on eachothers arms. You have to remind yourself that he is just your bodyguard, under a punishment. But you can’t help to lean into the way you so easily open your hearts to one another. The way you helped him go from snarky and closed off to playful in just over a month or two. It was wrong but you continued to play around with those feelings. 

And Jongho felt exactly the same. He hadn’t indulged with feelings like this since he first joined the royal guard. Though he lets himself go on nights of drinking, those women are just strangers and one night stands. He won’t let him fall deep into you, or think of you in such a way. But can he really deny the floating feelings towards you? The way you make his heart softly flutter when you giggle or whine his name when he teases you. Jongho lets himself melt into all the deep, late night conversations and the inside jokes. When you rest your head on his shoulder at the gardens as you read, he should be pushing it off and reprimanding you, asserting that your relationship is nothing but business. Bodyguard and princess. 

But it couldn’t hurt, right?

Tonight you were bringing Jongho to the markets. It took so much convincing and pleading but he had agreed nevertheless, and you couldn't even contain your excitement when he did. You learned he hadn’t been in months which only excited you more. You had waited until you were sure your parents were asleep, and the guards had switched shifts, which some included Jonghos fellow kingsguard mates. 

“You know your way out of the gates very well. Must I tell the king?” You tease as soon as you both walk towards the city.

“Ah yes, make it a point to mention how we were hand in hand as we escaped the treacherous castle walls!” He replies with dramatics. You lightly smack his bicep in response.

“You suit such casual clothing, Jongho.” 

“You noticed. Shall I wear them more often when meeting you, princess?” He asks, linking his arm with yours.

“You flirt!” He only lets out a laugh, one that makes your heart flip right into your stomach. You pull his arm closer to you and he studies your face. The smile on your face grows wider as you arrive at the market.

You pull him along as you point to various stands, telling him how you have to visit them all while he tells you to slow down. You first stop at a food stall, grabbing a snack as you walk around the stalls selling merchandise. 

“Try this on.” You shove a necklace into Jonghos chest.

“I-” 

“I command you!” You cut him off. Knowing that you technically can’t, but he follows anyway.

Jongho slips the necklace and he swears your eyes light up. You clap your hands together and smile. “That's the one! Oh, Jongho, you must see yourself.” 

You slip the shop merchant gold, ignoring Jonghos complaints and you tug him to the next stall. 

After getting through half of the stalls, you and Jongho sit at a table near the courtyard where people were dancing and singing as a band of bards played their songs. You were both nursing a mug of beer each and sharing a plate of various foods from nearby stalls. 

“Is this not delightful?” You ask him, head resting on your palm.

“I have to say my favorite part so far is the music.” He responds. 

You sit up straight and take a sip of your beer, “you like music, Jongho?”

“Of course. My mother had said I have a good voice.”

“You must show me soon.” You perk your head when you hear a new song, and grab Jonghos hands. “Let us dance.”

You're pulling him up before he could fight against you, dragging him into the crowd of people. Pulling his arm up above your head, you twirl under him, bringing him to laugh at your action. You can’t say for sure that you're both the best dancers in the crowd, but you know for a fact that this is the most fun you've had at one of these markets. You're giggling into his chest everytime he moves you a different way or makes a remark about you or another couple dancing nearby, making Jongho blush up his neck.

After taking a small break to finish your drinks and eat more, you were both back in the crowd, dancing and talking. The night was ending soon, as you saw some merchants packing up their stalls already. The bards start a slow song as if on cue, and Jongho gives you a knowing look while you smile slyly at him. “May I have this dance, my princess?”

You nod eagerly, placing your hands on his shoulders while he places his hands only slightly above your hips, softly gripping your hips. Slowly swaying back and forth to the calmer music. You look around and notice there were now fewer people and merchants were bidding their goodbyes to guests. 

“I'm curious.. No one has mentioned your name here, Y/N.” Jongho suddenly speaks up, “They know you, correct?”

“I assume that they don’t, or it is just a mutual understanding. Though I was only caught because someone had recognized me.” You reply. “The people here are uncaring of status.”

He nods and brings you closer, resting his chin on your head. You couldn’t even hide your blush if you tried, so you were thankful your face was hidden.

“I must thank you, princess. This was a good experience for me, and I am glad it was with you.” 

You don’t respond, you only continue the small movements in your bodies, sighing in content. Your heart has been beating at a fast pace since you started dancing and you can’t control the blush that spreads across your cheek every so often. There’s a sad tug on your heart when you silently wish you could take whatever this is a step further. Fully accepting your feelings for the man all while accepting whatever he felt and that it could go nowhere. Not just because he could not feel the same, but because of your statuses. 

You look up as soon as you feel a few water droplets hit your shoulders, Jongho must’ve also felt them as he was also looking up. He lowers his head to yours and you both laugh. The sprinkles turn into light rain but the two of you stand still, searching for answers in eachothers eyes.

“Jongho, I…” The words stuck in your throat. But it’s as if he reads your mind when Jongho leans down, eyes on your lips, tongue darting out to wet his own. You push up on your toes and he beats you to it, landing his lips onto yours. 

Softly pressing his lips into yours but holding your body close to yours. His grip on you is tight like he is afraid you’ll disappear so suddenly. You both pull back, eyes wide but full of love, triggering Jongho to connect his lips to yours again, but with more passion. Molding your lips with his as his hand travels to the back of your head, the other on your lower back. 

He pulls back first this time, leaning his forehead against yours. “Let us go home, princess.” 

You nod and let him take the lead. Smiling to yourself and your hand remains in his until you reach the door to your quarters.

“I bid you a goodnight.” He says, cupping your face in his hand.

“May I suggest you come in? I’d want nothing more than for you to be at my side tonight, Jongho.”

Jonghos eyes dart back and forth between yours. You slowly slide into your room with him in your hands, but before you're halfway in, he crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss only gets deeper when he leans your back against your now closed door, hands traveling down to your hips as he tugs you closer to him. 

“Princess, you must not tempt me.” He says in between kissing you, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss.

“Let us be selfish tonight, as I don't know when I can get you next.” You respond, out of breath.

“I will allow myself to you every day, and every night, Y/N.” His lips ghost yours, “I am yours for as long as you need. But tonight, do you want this? Are you sure? I only assume you know so much about this.”

“I trust you, Jongho. I trust you with my heart and body, as much as you are mine, I am yours.” And with that he is latching his lips onto yours again. Jongho hooks his hands under your thighs, commanding you to jump and you do so. He walks you to your bed, setting you down softly and moving his hands behind you to untie your corset, not letting his lips leave yours longer than a few seconds at a time. 

Not beforelong, your corset is off and thrown to the side. Jongho works on untying your dress as he leaves soft kisses down your jaw and neck. He lifts his head, staring into your eyes as he slowly drags your long dress off of your body. Leaving you only in your stockings and panties. You lift your arms over your breasts, almost as an immediate response, not helping but feeling slightly insecure. 

“Don’t, my angel, for you are beautiful.” He says, moving your arms down to your side again.

You reach up and tug on his shirt and he chuckles, “for you.” He pulls up his shirt and tosses it behind you somewhere. 

Jongho softly lays you back, connecting his lips with yours for a brief moment before traveling them down your neck, softly sucking on your sensitive spots, eliciting soft breathy moans from you. He brings his lips down your breasts, softly cupping one in his hand as his mouth kisses around the nipple on the other. Latching his lips onto your sensitive bud, he brings his thigh up to your center, offering you some friction. 

You gasp and bring your hands up his hair as he sucks and kisses your nipples, slowly switching between the two every now and then. Jongho then sits up and slowly slides each of your stockings off.

“Beyond gorgeous,” He softly says, “And so ready for me. How I could never forget this moment with you.”

He hooks his finger under the hem of your underwear, dragging them down at a painful speed. You grip his arm, “Please, will you kiss me.”

“I couldn’t deny you if I tried.” Jongho lays his lips on yours again, almost with more force but never too rough. You don’t even realize your panties are completely off until you feel his fingers at your core, gathering your slick and bringing it up to the aching bundle of nerves. You can only moan and buck your hips into his hands at the sensation. 

“My sensitive princess..” He coos. 

Your moans come out as quiet whines as he massages your slick, gathering more of your arousal as he continues. Jongho latches his lips to your neck once again, leaving love bites up and down your neck and chest, making sure to massage your breasts as he continues to bring you to your high. 

You almost jump as he inserts a finger into your core, slowly pumping in and out as you adjust to the foreign sensation. He brushes against your most sensitive spot as soon as he adds a second finger, causing you to moan louder than intended. You could only hope the walls and doors are as soundproof as you imagine. 

You gasp when Jongho lays his thumb against your click, rubbing as he pumps his fingers in and out. It was more so to prepare you for him but you can’t hold back the warm feeling in your stomach as he scissors his fingers and slightly speeds up his pace. You continue to let out breathy moans, thighs shaking as the warmth spreads. 

“Ah- Jongho, keep going,” you moan out, “I think- I-”

Before you say more, your back uncontrollably arches as you let out your loudest moan yet. Jongho rubs the side of your thighs with his free hand as you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. Your thighs start to force themselves closed. Taking it as a sign, Jongho removes his fingers and brings them to his lips, sucking the juices off as you watch in awe. 

“So sweet, as expected from my princess,” he whispers before kissing you once again, “my love, are you ready for me?”

You nod your head quickly, “Yes.. Yes! Jongho, please.”

Jongho kisses you again, cupping your face with one hand as he frees himself of his pants with his other. He lines himself up at your entrance, giving you one last look before entering himself in your warmth. 

Pain travels through your lower half as your grip onto his bicep and your sheets. 

“Jongho..” You cry out.

He shushes you softly and latches his lips to yours, and you desperately kiss him as he bottoms himself out in you. You deepen the kiss as he pauses his movements inside of you.

“M-move, please.” You plead in between kisses. 

Jongho moves his hips at a soft and slow pace, making sure you adjust well. He’s well aware it’s your first time being intimate, so he holds himself back with so much restraint from himself. He grips your waist and grabs your hand with his other, pinning it above your head and he speeds his thrusts up, enough to make you moan but never rough.

Your soft moans only encourage him to quicken his pace. 

“Jongho, please, faster.”

“Are you sure, my love?” He asks.

“Please, yes. Just more.” You moan out. 

His thrusts hit harder and deeper, the only noises heard are your moans and skin slapping. 

“My princess, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groans. “How I could fuck you all night.”

He grabs your waist and lays a hand on your lower stomach, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You almost scream out and arch into his hands. The heat in your stomach returns, but hotter and stronger. Your brain fogs as your eyes slam shut, not being able to voice what was happening. You let it go and cum onto Jongho, who was more than pleased with this outcome. He only speeds up to chase his own high, which comes soon after. After a few thrusts, he quickly pulls out, pumping himself with his hand before releasing his seed onto your stomach. 

He says kneeling, arms caging you in as you both catch your breath. You grab Jonghos face and pull him in for a final kiss. 

“Let me fall in love with you.”

#interlude-ateez 🎬 #interlude-jongho #jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho fluff #ateez fanfic #jongho fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez fluff

[lxclerc]

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓

SUMMARY: if charles can't value what's in front of him then carlos is more than willing to take on the role. REQUESTED: yes but it's for a personal friend. WARNING: kinda toxic carlos, unrequited love, asshole carlos (not towards the reader), a little bit of angst, SMUT, 18+, oral (f receiving), mean carlos, slight corruption kink (blink and you'll miss it), overstimulation, spitting, lost of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, fluff PAIRING: reader x carlos sainz, reader x charles leclerc WORD COUNT: 6.6k

NOTE: this was meant to be much much longer but i decided to cut it into 2 parts. part 2 will lead to eventual threesome with carlos and charles. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

part 2: call out my name

masterlist

The first time Carlos met you, he knew you were off limits. Always following Charles around with that same lovestruck look in your eyes, your body coming alive whenever the monegasque touches you. Your affection for him is written all over your face. 

“We’re just friends,” Charles is always quick to correct whenever anyone assumes otherwise. “Best friends,” he’d add as if that made it better and Carlos would watch the way your face would fall, lips slightly quivering as if you’re about to cry on the spot. 

Frankly, Carlos thought it’s a waste. Why are you, whose incomparable beauty and wit, is settling for a man who very obviously doesn’t return your affections? Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself? Do you enjoy the pain?

Carlos has very few bad things to say about his teammate, getting along with him so well he’d even consider him a good friend but one thing is for sure, Charles is an idiot for not claiming you given the first chance to do so. Can’t Charles see the longing looks and lustful gazes frequently thrown in your direction, Carlos’ along them? 

Though he supposes he should thank Charles for handing you to him with a pretty little bow, for letting you slip through his fingers so Carlos can snatch you right up. 

But Carlos bided his time. Charles is Ferrari’s golden boy, their walking god. The prodigal son he’s called. Il Predestinato. The Chosen One. Carlos is the newest member of the team, one with much more to prove. Charles may very quickly deny speculations between the two of you but his claim all over you is still evident. In the way he touches you, the way he keeps you firmly by his side. Carlos had far too much to lose by immediately creating tension within the group. 

He’s a patient man. He can wait, plan and plot. And so apart from the usual hellos when you meet each other and the mandatory polite smiles, he stayed away from you, choosing instead to always keep a watchful gaze on your figure whenever the two of you are in the same room. 

He’ll play the game and he’ll play it well. He’ll wait. He’ll wait patiently knowing that by the end of it, it’ll be you puny on his palm. And it’s not like you notice, far too busy over your unrequited feelings for the monegasque to even look in his direction.  

In his time watching you, Carlos learned so many things about you, things not many people notice. He learned your mannerisms, what makes you tick and what makes you smile, what makes you frown and what makes you pout. He knows your coffee order as well as his own and the foods you don’t eat. He learned the things you like and disliked, learning you till he’s got you memorized like the back of his hand, all his knowledge about you being kept safe for when he finally deems it’s time.

It isn’t like his attraction for you is pure though. Carlos wants you in such a primal way, wants to take you, to claim you. He can barely remember the amount of times he’d touched himself to the thought of you.

It seems the universe is on his side though. He hadn’t even needed to do anything to have you falling straight into his arms. 

It was after the Bahrain grand prix, the first race of the season with Ferrari taking home a 1-2. Everyone is in their best mood, drinking the night away as celebration for the best opening start of the season. Carlos found you in the nearly empty hallway leading to the bathroom away from the crowd of people. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, cheeks red and wide eyes a little less bright than usual. 

You look like a wounded angel in your little white dress, legs and back bare with your hair falling beautifully over your shoulder, shorter strands littering your face. You look breathtaking and Carlos couldn’t not approach you. 

And so armored with his usual friendly smile, he situated himself next to you. “Hey.”

You look up at him from under your eyelashes, offering him a smile of your own. You look sad though and he can’t help but hate Charles a little bit for it. “Hey, Carlos. Congratulations on P2.” 

Carlos smiles at you again in thanks. “What are you doing here?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. In his drunken stupor, Charles had found a woman to entertain him for the night, all wrapped up in her on the table you shared. 

But you only shrug your shoulders and the action made his eyes travel to your collarbone to the V neck of your dress leading to the valley of your breast. Your skin is covered in goosebumps and he noticed your visible shiver. 

“I needed a breather,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie. You need a breather from Charles and his suffocating presence. “How about you?”

The truth was that he followed you after he saw the way you removed yourself from the group, eyes downcast and bare skin so tempting he couldn’t not follow. He ignored your question and instead shook off the jacket he wore, placing it around your shoulder. You smile at him, a little less sad than the one you gave him earlier, as you slip your hand through the sleeves, the jacket being much too big and practically swallowing your body. 

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, both leaning against the wall. You look a little lost in your head, still hung up over the sight of Charles kissing some girl he just met. For the longest time, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re fine with your place beside him even if he never returns your feelings. Loving Charles has always hurt but you’ve been doing it for so long that you’ve become familiar with the pain, even allowing it to bring you comfort. 

Carlos sighs, practically hearing your thoughts as his hand reaches towards you, placing them on your shoulder to force you to face him. For months, he’s watched you torture yourself over Charles from afar but he’s only now realizing that he can’t do it from up close with your sad, defeated eyes staring back at him.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he says and Carlos had to control his breathing as you looked at him like that, eyes so wide and naive, looking so pure and lost. He wants to protect you and ruin you at the same time. “You deserve better, cariño, not a boy who doesn’t know how to treat you right.”

“He’s all I’ve ever known,” your voice breaks a little and he wanted nothing more than to punch his teammate at that moment. 

“That doesn’t mean he deserves you,” he says through gritted teeth.

You’re unable to say anything else as you melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his torso and he pulls you to his chest. His arms around you are tight, seemingly trying to keep you together as you break apart. 

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds. You don’t cry, which is a good thing because Carlos doesn’t think he can handle that without marching back inside the club and punching the living daylights out of Charles, but you do stay in his arms, your hands clutching at his shirt. 

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he says, deciding that the best thing for you right now is sleep. You only nod, lightly pulling yourself away from him. 

The bar you guys had went to was just in the hotel lobby, a small place with barely any people and so he leads you out, hand firmly clasped against yours as the two of you ride the elevator to your floor. 

“Charles…” you start, voice quiet. “Charles has my key card.”

Carlos nods. “You can stay with me.”

He half expected you to argue but you only nod your head as he leads you to his own hotel room, swiftly swiping the card to open the door, opening it bigger for you. The rest follows swiftly. Carlos lends you clothes to change into after having decided to share a bed. The two of you made quick movements to prepare for bed, the long day had you exhausted and determined to get under the covers. 

And yet, as soon as Carlos turns off the light, it’s like all of your exhaustion melted away, finding yourself wide eyed as you stared at the ceiling, his presence next to you pressing against your skin. You’ve shared a bed with a man before, of course. Ever since you were kids till adulthood, you and Charles never had a problem sharing one. But Carlos’ presence is much different from Charles’ familiar weight next to yours. Carlos’ feels demanding, firm. His skin feels a little too hot, causing you to lightly pull down the covers to reveal more of yourself to the chilly, air conditioned air. 

It’s a little terrifying. He feels much stronger than you. But it’s also a little exhilarating, your mind daring you to reach forward and touch his skin. He’s not wearing a shirt and you’re tempted to run your fingers through his chest, his jaw, his hair. 

“Carlos,” you speak softly, still staring at the ceiling.

“Hmm?” 

“Can I touch you?” 

He doesn’t think you know how your question sounds. He doesn’t think you know how the innocence in your voice makes him want to wrap his hand around your throat. But nevertheless, he nods despite the fact that you can’t see him. “Yes.” 

You don’t need to be told twice, shifting so you’re facing him, the darkness bathing the two of you hiding the blush in your cheek as your hand reaches forward, soft pads of your fingers hesitantly placing themselves on his jaw. 

Your fingers are cold as it slides from his jaw to his neck, palm pressing against the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. His own hand places itself on your waist, drawing circles on the fabric of his shirt as your hand finally reaches his chest, tracing every bump and hollow curve till you reach his abdomen. 

Carlos sucks in a breath, his hand flying to wrap around your wrist, stopping your movement. With the minimal light, he can see the way you looked at him, so so innocent as though you don’t understand why he stopped you. 

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, amor,” he warned you, voice quiet as he stared into your eyes. 

But a pool had started in your panties and for the first time that night, you actually feel alive. You wanted more of him. You want him to make you forget. “Make me forget tonight.”

Carlos groans at your words, cursing in Spanish that you barely had the time to decode before his lips are on yours, climbing on top of you as he holds your wrist over your shoulder. You moan into the kiss, trying to pull your hand away to be able to touch him again but his body is firmly pressing you against the mattress, knees keeping your legs open. 

“Carlos,” you whine, desperate for some sort of friction as you rut against him. 

“Don’t whine.” His voice is low and demanding, full of authority as his lips sucked on your neck, finding a sweet spot that had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. He’s sucking and biting, flawlessly marking up your neck as you all but fall apart under him. 

“Please,” you mutter breathlessly, still pulling at your wrists. You’re desperate to be touched, trying to create as much friction as you wiggled under him. 

“Please what, angel?” Carlos mocks. He’s waited for this for far too long to be nice now. 

“Please touch me,” you don’t even hesitate, Charles being the farthest thing from your mind with Carlos all over you. 

“Where can I touch you, niña bonita?” his words rushed through your veins, close enough to feel the thump thump thump as he pressed his lips against your jaw, planting open mouthed kisses

“Everywhere,” you breathe out and Carlos grins, finally letting go of your wrist, giving you free reign to run your fingers through his hair as he makes a quick effort to rid you of your – his – shirt. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, wanting to be absolutely positive that this is what you want to, that you aren’t just letting your emotions get the best of you. 

“Yes, Carlos, please.”

And who was he to deny such pretty pleas?

His lips left a path of destruction everywhere he touched, the burning sensation of his breath against your skin going straight to your core. Eventually, he reaches your nipples, tongue swirling and fingers pinching the other. His teeth marking all over your breasts as he continued his trail down.

“Stop me,” he tells you as his fingers pull the garter of your panties. “Stop me or I won’t be able to stop, baby.” 

“Don’t stop,” you quickly say, writhing under him. “God please, don’t you dare stop.” 

“You don’t have to call me god. My name is just fine,” he mutters against your skin as he pulls your underwear down. If this is the only night he gets with you then he’s going to make sure to ruin any other man for you. “Thought you were a good girl, baby. Always looking so innocent.”

His lips pressed against your clit, tasting the honey that seeped out of you, causing you to shudder as he situated himself between your legs, elbows pushing your legs apart. His tongue flats on your clit, swiping a lick as you moan out, fingers clutching desperately at his hair, a chorus of pleases and Carlos tumbling out of your lips. He doesn’t think there could be a much better sound as he pokes his tongue into your entrance, your tight walls pushing him out. 

Your body is arching up as he sucked at your clit, making Carlos place his arm around your stomach, pushing you back down as his other hand gathered your wetness, spreading it all over your folds before slowly pushing in, a cocky grin on his lips as your moan grows louder. 

His tongue and fingers worked together, one slowly pumping in and out of you as he let you adjust and his lips sucking into your clit. He swears he’s meeting his creator as you come into his mouth, voice becoming strangled and your back once again arching as you scream his name, loud enough that Carlos hopes everyone in the floor can hear it. You sound angelic and sinful all at once. 

“One more, pretty girl,” he tells you. “Tan bonito como este,” he tells you, watching as you shudder with each swipe of his tongue. You’re far too gone to even care about what he’s saying. “Y todo mío.”

Your fingers running through his tousled, demanding him to keep going and to stop at the same time, the faint taste of iron on your tongue as you bite your bottom lip, soft angelic melodies of his name escaping your lips. He sucked harder, wrist working faster as he added another finger in, pumping in and out of you at a much faster rate than he had a while ago, working to bring you to your second orgasm of the night, one he knew you needed but in reality, he needed more. 

"That feels good doesn't it love? You like it when I touch you like this?" Carlos groans and rubs your clit faster. You buck your hips and nod quietly. "Use your words angel," he taunts.

"Yes, yes, oh my god, yes please. yes," you moan loudly.

“Good,” he says, a smug smirk playing on his face. It’s incredible how easy it is for you to submit to him, to beg to his name as if he’s your newfound religion.

It’s an ego thing as his tongue carved Sainz on your clit with the promise of making you his. His kisses stamped your inner thigh, teeth gently nibbling on your skin as he marked what’s his. You don’t know it yet but you’re his. Once he’s done with you, you’ll never want another man again. His tongue slipped inside you, his finger now tracing his name. 

“Can I… can I come please?” Your voice is shaky and broken as you ask him, full of obedience that he didn’t even have to teach you as you so easily surrendered yourself to him and his control. In that moment, your body belonged to him and you both knew it.

“Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this good,” he demands, your cum dripping from his lips. It takes effort for you to even comprehend his words and much more to force your eyes open as you meet his hazel ones. His efforts doubled in speed and strength, your screams becoming louder as he pushed you to the edge. 

You gasp loudly as you feel your whole body trembling even more and then you feel your body tense as you come against his mouth. Your whole mind feels like exploding and all you can see is stars. You feel so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’reexperiencing, your body is still trembling as you feel yourself come down from your high.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he tells you softly as he crawls over to your side, brushing the hair from your face and placing his lips on you. Your body is motionless against his as you climb down from your back to back orgasm. 

“Open your mouth, cariño,” he says, gently tapping at your jaw. You comply as he spits into your mouth, the taste of you now present on your taste buds. You’re quick to swallow, making Carlos grin at you. Your undeniable submission to him gives him a kind of satisfaction. 

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” He asks softly, hand on your cheek a deep contrast to what his fingers had been doing to you a few moments ago. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shyly shake your head. Carlos thought you looked most beautiful like this, so incredibly ruined for him. “I’m not- I haven’t–” you start, stuttering over your own words.

“Speak up, cariño,” he tells you and your cheeks heat up even more. 

“I haven’t…done it,” say finally, voice increasingly getting shyer with each syllable. 

For a minute, Carlos was frozen, not having expected your admission. You’re twenty four years old after all, he had expected you to at least have some experience, but he knows you’re telling the truth from the light blush on your cheeks as you all but hide your face to his shoulder, touching him so surely as if you’ve done it a thousand times before. 

He could feel himself melting a little, your shy smile and red cheeks so adorable that he couldn’t help but smile back at you as he wraps his arm around your naked figure, pulling you closer towards him.

“We don’t have to,” he assures you. “We can just go to sleep now.”

“I want to,” you’re quick to say, placing your chin on his shoulder. “I was saving it for…”

For Charles. You don’t bother finishing your sentence, you both already know. The sting in his chest is instant, a reminder that you’re not his, at least not fully. 

And then the pride rolls in. You’ve saved this for Charles for years, probably rejecting a multitude of men along the way and yet you’re so willingly offering it to him now, with no hesitation and no question with the monegasque the farthest thing from your mind as you stared up at him with those big eyes of yours. 

Before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again, whatever little softness his kiss carried a while ago is gone now. He’d never let you go, not when he’s already got a taste. There’s no way he’s ever letting you go now, not when you’re holding on to him like that, nails digging on the skin of his back, naked body pressed against his. 

And if he does lose you, if another man gets to touch you after him, he’ll make sure to ruin you for them. He’ll make sure it’s him on your mind every time, his name you’re begging to scream out. 

You’re warm. Tingling with anticipation threaded into your nerves and heat. And you feel your body throbbing all at once as Carlos claims your mouth. Your hands are eager, pulling at the shorts he’s still wearing, a whine at the back of your throat.

“Carlos,” you breath out, needy all over as he takes his time marking your skin. 

“What did I say about whining?” He asks, immediately getting you to shut your mouth and instead settling for biting your lower lip. 

Still though, Carlos does as you ask, pulling away from you in order to remove his clothes. You gulp as you watch his unbearably hard cock reach his stomach. He was carved by god himself you’re sure. No mere mortal can possibly look as beautiful as he does now in all of his naked glory, chest perfectly refined, hair tousled and back and arms littered with scratches. 

Heat travels to your cheeks once you realize you’re staring. You try to avert your eyes but Carlos is crawling back at you, hands cupping your cheeks as he all but forces you to meet his eyes. “You can stare, Amor. I’m yours to look at.” 

His declaration ignites a blazing warmth in your chest, giving you the courage to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you in order to once again connect your lips. He’s yours. He’s yours. And you’re his. You’ve never felt this alive before, never quite felt like this before. Not with any man and not with Charles. You’re his. You know that now. 

“You’re beautiful,” you mutter to no one but the world as his lips travel from your lips to your jaw. 

Carlos only hums as his lips travel all over your face and neck. You whimper as his mouth presses kisses all over your sensitive skin, your hands traveling to his hair and tugging lightly.

“I have been thinking about this moment for so long.” He rasps, kissing your throat softly. Your body trembles against his as he continues to cover your face and neck with kisses.

Your brain is all over the place, eyes heavy and clouded as you try to tell him how much you’ve been wanting him. All your thoughts overwhelm you, disabling any rational understanding of what is going on. You just want him. You need him. 

All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.

The whine that comes out of you only drives Carlos to seek out more of those sounds, they are potentially the most amazing sounds he’s ever heard. Your arms wrap around his neck, in an attempt to bring him closer to you, your hips accidentally move against him making him groan. 

“Didn’t take you for the needy type, angel,” Carlos teases and you want to tell him to stop, to just fuck you already. You needed him so badly but you know doing so will result in nothing. He’s going to kill you with anticipation, have you begging for his touch. 

“Carlos,” you beg, wanting to cry with unmet arousal. “Please. Need you so bad.”

“Shh,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” 

His lips travel to your breast, greedily claiming your nipple with his mouth. His tongue circles your most sensitive nerve, making you let out another moan. You whine as your cunt starts clenching around nothing, begging for attention. Instinctively you start moving your hips against his making him groan against your skin. His lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as you try to catch your breath. You’re panting, barely able to think straight. 

He groans as you continue to grind up against him, grasping your hips to halt your movements, causing a whine out of you as he pushes your hips against the mattress, so desperate to feel him again. Finally, he slowly moves towards the bed and gently spreads your thighs apart as he fits himself between them. He positions his body against yours, hand coming up to your face to caress your cheek again as you feel his other wander all over your body making you breathless already.

You feel his cock momentarily against your wetness which makes you thrust against him.

“I need you,” you pant against his lips, but Carlos pulls his hips away slightly with a small smirk on his face. “Please…”

You need him so bad and you’re getting impatient as you feel him press kisses all over your neck, being much gentler than you know he’s used to. He’ll have his way with you eventually but for tonight, your pleasure and comfort is all that matters. Panting, you feel him slowly go down your body. He momentarily wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and sucks lightly making you arch your body against his. 

You feel yourself dripping down the sheets, whining helplessly as you become desperate with need.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock in order to relieve yourself some tension. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh fuck,” Carlos rasps, reaching down and grasping himself to line up between your lips. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock to your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him and back down. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads himself around your slit, where you’re still dripping for him.

You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You’re still so so wet. Carlos swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kisses you full of fervor, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You’re trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covers your whole body with his as you writhe against him, wishing he was just in you already.

“Are you ready, cariño? Let me know if I start to hurt you or if you want to stop.” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes.

You bite your lip and nod, too shy and excited to talk.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, angel?” He says before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“Please, Carlos,” you stutter, your body trembling even more. 

He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer fold sliding his cock teasingly around your core. You arch your back slightly and whine out of frustration.

You want to beg him to do something again as he leans down to line up his cock with your entrance, your legs trembling under him with a mix of nerves and excitement. Carlos slides in so slowly it’s agonizing. He’s careful, like he’s afraid you might break. 

You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. He’s so big, stretching your walls. It feels as though your organs are moving around to give him space with how full you feel. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

Once he’s fully inside you, you sigh against his lips. You feel so full, as if he’s made for you and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reaches up to your face.

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, I just need a moment,” you mutter, breathless.

He smiles as your eyes are drifting close, both so full and exhausted at the same time.

You feel yourself gradually adjust to his size, your lower lip between your teeth as you open your eyes again to look up at Carlos’ beautiful sight above you.

“Please move,” you beg.

He nods quietly and starts by thrusting into you slowly, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds your hand tightly. The sting hurts you for a while, but it easily changes to pleasure as he moves against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he’s giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure. 

He grunts as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“So tight,” he groans.

The angle is so good, but when his pace picks up he finally leans down to wrap his arms around you, making you gasp as he thrust into you faster and harder, pinning you against the mattress and taking full control of your body. 

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Doing so so good for me. Eres tan perfecta.”

You whimper as his lips move back up against your own as he kisses you passionately.

At a certain point you feel the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point inside you that has you clenching like a vise around his cock. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, back arching as he keeps thrusting into you, the feeling of him repeatedly hitting your most sensitive spot causing a loud noise you’ve never made before escaping your lips, a strange cry of his name. 

“Fuck,” Carlos muttered against your ears, feeling your walls clenching around him, letting him know that you’re close. “You’re so loud for me, angel.” 

“God.” You’re lost in pleasure, tears streaming down your face as you desperately claw at his skin. Whatever pain you were feeling before is lost now as you all but float in a cloud of lust. 

“Hold it in, baby,” he demands, tongue licking your tears away as his hand pushes your hair out of your face, wanting to see you fully as you reach your high. 

“Please, Carlos,” you sobbed, squirming under him. “Need to…need to come please.”

His thrust doesn’t stop or falter, getting harder and harder as his hand grips your waist. There would surely be a bruise of his handprint there tomorrow but you’re far too gone to care. “Look at you so desperate to cum on my dick. Who’s making you feel this good, angel?”

“You!” You cry out, more than willing to pledge your life away to him at this point, the only thing that matters is your release. “Only you! Please, Carlos.” 

“That’s right. Only me. Sólo yo.” Carlos smirks at the sight of you under him, so completely defenseless. “Go on, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you spasm under him, losing control of your body. Your vision is hazy as you ride out your high, your body out of your control as your nails dug to his skin, teeth buried on his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure quite like this.

You feel his cum shoot inside your walls as his body slightly relaxes on yours. He’s barely broken a sweat, his stamina completely phenomenal, but he knows you’re spent and after tonight, you deserve a break, especially considering it’s your first time. And so with that, he gently pulled out of you, making sure not to put anymore pressure on your tired body as he dropped to the place next to you.

Despite your clear exhaustion though, there’s no hesitation in your movements as you turn to him, breathing shallow. Placing your seemingly heavy head on his chest, you throw your arms over his stomach. Carlos’ breath hitched. He had just fucked you, made you come three times and yet somehow the action of you so naturally cuddling to him had his heart racing. 

“You did so good,” he told you gently, arms more than welcoming, immediately wrapping around you. “Are you okay, niña bonita?”

“Yes,” you mumble, voice hoarse from all the screaming as you bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck. “Tired.”

“Sleep,” he told you softly, lips planting a kiss on the top of your sweaty hair as he pulled you closer towards him. 

You let out a hum, already drifting off to dreamland with your naked bodies pressed against each other, not an inch between the two of you as you tightly held on to each other. 

—

The next time you saw Carlos was the next day as you climbed into Ferrari’s private plane. Nearly the entire team is hungover, half asleep as they lugged their baggage, you along them but for an entirely different reason. 

As soon as you stepped into the plane, the Spaniard's eyes were on you and yours on him. You wore the jacket he lent you last night over a simple shirt and jeans, opting to wear something comfortable for the flight rather than something stylish. He, on the other hand, still looked breathtaking in a simple buttoned up shirt and jeans, hair tousled as he watched the way your cheeks turned red. 

Charles, far too tired and sleepy, barely noticed as you disappeared from his side as you all but made a beeline towards Carlos. 

“Good morning, angel,” he greets you, heart soaring at the obvious way you seeked him out, not even hesitating to leave the monegasque’s side in favor of his. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admit, still with a nervous tone to your voice as you take the seat in front of him. “But worth it.”

As Carlos reached forward to lightly push your hair back, his touch now so familiar, you missed the way Charles searched for you upon noticing you’re no longer next to him. You also missed the look of pure jealousy in his eyes, one you’ve longed to see for as long as you can remember. But Carlos hadn’t and for the first time, Charles saw a version of his teammate he’s never seen or expected, one that’s very obviously staking his claim on you, eyes challenging Charles to fight back as you lean into Carlos’ touch. 

Carlos didn’t have to say it but Charles understood anyway.

Carlos is a patient man and he played the game so well, biding his time properly and it had all paid off so well, everything falling perfectly into place as the sight of you next to him became a common occurrence. You often wear his shirts after nights in his hotel room, meeting up with Charles for breakfast only to practically reek of Carlos’ cologne. He’s all over you even when he’s not around, his imprints on your skin, his scent all over you, reminding Charles that he’s lost a game he hadn’t realized he was playing. 

And when he is around, it’s not like Carlos is trying to hide it, an arm always around your waist or sometimes hands on your hips. This time though, it’s Charles that’s watching. He watches as the Spaniard touches you so easily as though he’s done it a thousand times before. He watches as you’re quick to relax against his chest, your soft easy smile painting your face and a certain glint in your eyes that Charles knows so well. 

Carlos, as Charles is beginning to realize, is a pretty fucking great liar. When they’re together with the team, talking cars and strategies or with the marketing team, doing challenges and interviews, it’s like nothing’s ever changed, both of them still so close. The only noticeable difference now is that you’re rarely on Charles’ side. Instead, you choose to always be by Carlos’, barely sparing your childhood best friend a glance as you stare at the Spaniard as though he hangs the stars and the moon. 

Eventually though, the unsaid stare off they often shared comes to a close. It had been during the spanish grand prix with Charles naively thinking he’s doing his teammate a good deed by knocking on his door before the marketing team comes and nags him about a video that needs shooting. Charles didn’t want them to be late and he didn’t want Carlos to have to stand for a lecture. 

But when he opens the door, not having bothered to knock, thinking it’s just another boring weekend before a race with Carlos on his phone like the thousand other weekends before that. 

Charles couldn’t be more wrong though because instead of the sight of Carlos engrossed in his phone, you're laying on his lap, the dress you wore bunched up around your waist and your eyes shut close as soft moans escaped your lips. Carlos has a hand holding you in place while another is busy assaulting your cunt, three fingers deep inside you, pumping in and out at such a brutal pace that has you biting your lower lip till you can taste blood, tears dripping down to your cheeks.

Charles is frozen in place, the sight of you so open, so perfectly spread for Carlos, caused him to swallow deeply. He can hear the filthy sound of Carlos’ fingers leaving your cunt only to unrelentingly push back in.You’re far too gone to even notice his presence, your fourth orgasm on Carlos’ fingers having completely drained your body as you keep taking more, but Carlos looks up at Charles, the pace of his fingers disappearing within the lips of your cunt never stopping as he raises an eyebrow.

The smirk pulling at his lips brings Charles back down to earth, forcing himself to look away from your naked body as he spun on his heel, shutting the door behind him. 

Charles can feel his heart racing, his pants suddenly much tighter than it had been minutes ago. The sound of your moans keeps repeating in his head, completely distracting him from the tasks at hand. 

After fixing his erection, Charles finds his way back to the hospitality, reuniting with his media aid as he tries to shake the sight of you whispering and messy on Carlos’ knees. 

“Where’s Carlos?” One of the Ferrari people asks him, but Charles only shrugs, not quite sure if he’s able to use his voice. 

A few minutes pass as the team waits for Carlos till the Spaniard finally emerges from his drivers room, hair messy and lips swollen. No one but Charles seems to notice though and the memory of you on his lap haunts Charles as he meets his teammate’s gaze, smug and proud as he runs his hand through his hair. 

Carlos claps Charles on the shoulder, mischief clear in his hazel eyes. “Finders keepers, right?”

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#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz fanfic #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst

[endereies]

Addicted 2 U - Chris Sturniolo

Contains: Sub!Chris (kinda), Drug-usage (be smart people), Blowjob, Hair pulling, don't like - don't read. Let me know if i missed anything<3

Author's notes: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it's good loll

word count: 2975

I had been to many parties in my life, fuck, I hosted half of them. But I never did anything crazy. I only provided, sometimes that drove me crazy. People around me were constantly inhaling smoke and I could only sit back and watch as the small embers burn and lit up in the cherry, making their faces glow against the night.

I had never had the urge to smoke and watching everyone get high was always an experience, typically leading to me taking care of everyone and making sure no one ever went overboard.

I was stressed.

-

I had been forced by some random kids at my college to host another party, only as a gateway to sell drugs to other students who shared the same cravings. It was a constant I was forced to adapt to, whether I liked it or not.

I had the same few people come up to me and most of the time the conversations reached around the same bends.

Most.

Chris has always managed to drag me in to some sort of long conversation, it made me feel like I wasn’t just used as a gateway to safely get high. Even if he had tried to convince me one or twice…

-

“Cmon y/n, you have never even wondered what it is like?” I had tried to walk to my lessons a long time ago but Chris had caged me in his presence enough that I had given up ten minutes ago.

“Of course I have wondered, but I don’t care enough to go along with anything.” I roll my eyes at him and try to turn away but he grabs my wrists and twists my body back towards him again.

“We both know that isn’t true” I provide him with a lack of a response and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve seen you at those parties, your eyes trace the blunts every single time. It’s the one thing you pay attention to other than those people who beg for ‘secret spots’ in your house.

“The fuck do you know, you are always out your mind whenever I see you. Nate had to drag you out last time.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping he will try and drop the subject soon.

“I had a new kind, ma. That ain’t fair…” He feigns a pout, not holding it for long without any giggles.

“Whatever, look. Just be at my place at seven. I’m hosting.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He leaves with that same stupid grin on his face.

-

The party had started an hour ago and I had landed myself in the gardens outside faster than I would’ve liked. My tie hung loosely around my neck and the top button of my shirt was undone. Already, someone had thrown up in front of me. Definitely the effects of previous substances but it was enough to dampen my mood and force me for some fresh air.

“Hey ma, nice outfit. Shame you chose outside as your runway.” I hear Chris’s voice from in front of me but I don’t bother enough to respond in the same manner as him.

“What.”

“You alright y/n?” He kneels down, his knees meeting to damp grass just so that he can see my face, full of mixed emotions.

“Some bitch nearly threw up on me, thankfully she didn’t but I can’t say the same to the houseplants.” I sigh and look away from him.

“Already?” My head nods in response.

“Well…Why are you out here then?” His voice seems gentler and calmer, noticing his normal attitude won’t get him anywhere.

“The smell was strong; the people are pissing me off and I have a headache from the shit music they are playing on repeat. But that’s nothing new…”

“Mind if I smoke?” He practically ignores the last sentences I give him and pulls out a poorly wrapped blunt that seems like it’s been stuffed into his pocket for a little bit too long.

“Whatever.”

He takes one of the garden chairs and drags it over the grass to sit close to me. As close as the seats would allow before the metal legs scrapped each other.

A small spark emits from an old red lighter before it glows with an orange flame. The light breeze shakes it and weakens the strength, making it have to stay alight longer before it managed to light the blunt. Chris holds the blunt between his lips, holding it there while putting the lighter in his pocket, inhaling weakly. It takes a few seconds before a cloud of smoke exits between Chris’s lips.

I didn’t mean to stare but the way the fire lights up his face in the dark was somewhat mesmerising. I could just be the awful night I was having but everything just seemed so much more appealing.

I suddenly grab the blunt from Chris’s hand and place it in between my own fingers and bring it to my lips and breath in. Big mistake.

I don’t even get a change to hold in the smoke before it exits my lungs harshly, scrapping my throat as it arises.

“Woah woah, y/n. Jesus are you okay?” His touch immediately burns into my back as he soothes it with his palm. “Take it easy…”

I can’t respond to him without producing weak coughs.

“If you really want to do it, I can show you?”

I’ve definitely had a shit day if I am really debating getting high. I don’t want to openly admit it so I nod my head slowly.

“Okay…I’ll show you how first, yeah?” I study his motions as he hollows out his cheeks slightly and allows more space to inhale, the ember’s light glows a little brighter when he breathes in. The blunt rests between his index and middle fingers and he draws it away from his mouth. Chris tilted his head away from mine and blows out the smoke into the cold air and I watch as it slowly disappears.

“Here.” His hand moves next to mine and I shakily grab the blunt.

Was I really doing this?

I bring it to my lips and exhale softly before placing it into my mouth.

“Try and relax and rest it just between your lips…” His voice trails off, putting his focus into adjusting my grip on the blunt.

“Like this?” My voice is meek as I try not to blow out the blunt.

“Better, ma. Now, inhale it slowly, once you feel a sting I want you to stop and hold it in.”

I try and take a long and deep breathe but the stinging comes sooner than later. I manage to hold it in my lungs for a few seconds before I’m forced to exhale quickly out of my nose with a slight cough. I shut my eyes as they start to water. Chris immediately takes the blunt from my fingers and I cough a little harsher now.

“There you go, not bad for your first time.” He smiles at me, taking the blunt between his own lips again while he waits for me to calm myself.

“That wasn’t as bad as the first time.” I shake my head as I cough one last time.

“This is a stronger one y/n, I’d rather you not take any huge amount of this, alright?” His tone isn’t as gentle and when he faces me his expression isn’t anything but serious.

“Yeah...sure.”

-

Chris and I had swapped between this blunt a few times and it had really started to hit me now, everything was dream-like. My vision lacked behind my brain and caused me to feel dizzy when I laughed too much or moved my head a little quickly. We kept on giggling to ourselves and playfully making jokes to one another.

“Fuck, I think I am feeling this now.” I smile pathetically at him, no longer being able to fully control my expressions.

“Yeah? Good. That’s when the good shit starts to happen, ma.” His eyes linger on mine as I take the blunt between my lips and take a deep inhale of the smoke. I watch his gaze fall to my lips even after the blunt is back in his hand again. When he looks back up a smirk is plastered on his face and I immediately try to compose myself.

Chris takes one final puff of smoke and put out the blunt, smashing it between the grass and the sole of his shoe. He looks over to me but I’m already staring at him.

“Everything okay?”

“You’re pretty.”

I don’t even think about the words I’m saying anymore to him, I’m too gone to care.

“Is that so?” He smiles sheepishly at my, gazing back down to my lips.

“Very much so. I’ve always noticed that.” A silence falls between us as we edge close to each other, his face only being a few inches away from mine.

I let out a shaky breath once I finally acknowledge the distance shortening between us.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The warmth of our breath mingled between us before our lips finally meet each other’s.

The gentle pressure was enough to make me lose my mind and send a shiver down my spine. Chris’s fingers wrapped around the edge of my jaw, pulling me slightly closer to him. His teeth graze my lower lips slightly and I open my mouth for him to gain better access. I feel him smile against me and the way his hand traced my arm had me intoxicated.

I slowly pull away from him, wanting to catch my breath and his gaze remains locked on my lips, slightly coated in his saliva. The fixation makes me instantly clench my thighs tightly together.

His palm rolls off my arm and places itself on to my hip, using his thumb to press small circles into my skin. He remains looking at me softly before placing his lips on mine again. I accept his touch almost instantly and I feel his hand that was on jaw snake around to the back of my neck, wanting to pull me closer.

He relaxed his body with the aid of the weed and sighed into the kiss. I laid my hands on to his thighs and slowly dragged them upwards. A deep sigh emits from him as my hands etch closer. He breaks the kiss and looks down to my palm, watching it with a dazed expression.

“Is this okay…?” I look down in the same direction as him and inch my hand so that I stop just below his dick.

He hums in response and nods his head eagerly, a tent clearly forming under his jeans.

Before I move my palm, he pulls my head towards me with his hand still on my neck and kisses me softly again. I use this to my advantage and I shift my hand so that I’m gently palming Chris through his clothing, but I don’t apply enough pressure for any major satisfaction. Even so, I earn a light whimper from Chris and it becomes harder to resist to apply more force.

“Please...don’t be a tease, ma.” His voice is gentle against my lips and I feel his warm breath on my skin, making me smile in to the kiss.

I was definitely being hit harshly with the effects of the weed, while I appreciated Chris’s appearance, I would never openly admit that. Let alone palm his dick, just after we kiss for the first time. I had always known that he was an attractive person and I often caught myself staring. And I bet he knew that too since he often caught me in a daydream while sheepishly smiling at him.

I find myself following his words and I break away from the kiss so that I can move from the chair to the wet grass beneath me.

His eyes look in to mine, practically begging me to touch him.

I keep my eyes on him while I brush my hands over his jeans and up towards his belt, slowly undoing it. I pull his jeans down past his waist and to his thighs.

I palm him again slowly and I see his head tilt backwards, making sure that I apply more pressure this time. I play with the waistband of his boxers and slowly pull them down to meet his jeans.

I stare at his dick and reality set in for a moment. Being high was mixing with my brain but at this point I was too far gone to care about that. It was something I would leave for future me to figure out.

I wasn’t going to overthink this and I just leant forward to kiss the tip of Chris’s dick and softly lick over it.

“Fuck…” His words fall softly from his lips in a whisper.

I continue to softly kiss the tip before licking a stripe down from his base to his tip and taking him in my mouth. A faint groan emits from Chris and his back arches slightly from the stimulation. He let his legs fall more to the sides which allowed me to etch closer. My mouth withdrawals from his cock and I smile at the hitched breath he takes from the loss of contact.

I swirl my tongue around my mouth whilst I gather saliva which drips off my tongue and falls on to the tip of his dick. It slowly flows down the side and I push the remaining amount down with my palm. My eyes fixate on Chris’s face and I drag my hand up and down his dick, torturingly slow. Looking back down towards me, Chris moans softly at the sound of my saliva over his skin, the weed making this experience more heightened for the both of us.

“Does this feel good Chris?” I mumble quietly against the skin of his thigh that I nip and kiss at.

“Fuck yeah, don’t stop…” He moans through his words breathlessly, the tone of my voice making his hips jerk into my palms.

I look back down to his dick and lean in so that my face is directly in front of his dick, making sure he keeps his eyes on me like a dog playing fetch. Groans echo through my ears once I take him in my mouth, letting my tongue glide across his skin. I take a few inches into my mouth and slowly bob my head up and down, making sure that I work with the rest in my hand.

One of his hands grips on to the sides of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he tries to remain still while the other hand finds its way to the back of my head. His fingers brush over my hair, almost reassuring me before he grabs a fistful into a make-shift ponytail.

After working around his tip for a few moments, something in me snaps and I deepthroat him, catching us both off guard. His hips rut towards my mouth as his dick hits the back of my throat and I gag slightly at the sensation.

A whine leaves Chris’s throat when I remove my mouth from him.

“You okay baby?” The name falls so casually from his lips and it grabs my attention quickly. “You don’t have t- fuck”

I draw out a long moan as I take his deep into my throat once again, getting past the constant need to gag. When I do gag, I try and not pull off completely and work around the tip again.

Chris decides that isn’t enough and uses the strands of hair he gathered to push my head back down onto his cock. Saliva drips from the corners of my mouth and I collect in my palm repeatedly, spreading it to the places my mouth can’t reach.

My eyes look back up to him, his face twisted in pleasure.

“If you keep looking at me l-like that I’m gonna c-cum, ma.” I hum in approval, sending vibrations down his dick. His grip on my hair tightens and pulls slightly whenever his hips jerk upwards.

I feel his dick twitch slightly in my mouth, signalling that he was close, so I slow down to tease him a little while longer.

“y/n…I’m close.” He moans breathlessly and pants through his words.

When he says this, I take him deep in my mouth, doing my best to supress my gags. He twitches again and his hips jerk up to hit the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he holds me in place.

“fuck..” He groans as he cums down my throat. I ignore the tears that prick at my eyes and swallow it all. My mouth leaves his dick but my hand remains pumping it to ride out his high. Small whimpers leave his lips once it starts to become too much and I look up at him, his face slightly fucked out.

“Was that okay?” I murmur quietly trying to break the silence.

“Ma, that was perfect, you looked so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His words land heavily through his breaths but I smile up at him as he adjusts himself.

Chris is a little uneasy on his feet once his orgasm diminishes, the effects of weed only slightly weaker now. He pulls his boxers and jeans back up and looks me in the eyes as I follow suit and stand next to him. Fingers wrap around under my chin and pull me towards Chris for another kiss, allowing him to taste himself.

“I should get high with you more often, Chris” I speak against his lips making him pull back.

“Yeah? You’d be a fool to think this wasn’t happening again.”

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @mayhem-72 @luverboychris

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #x reader

[risingoftime]

AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER FOUR

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a/n: i'm sorry for the delay! my grandpa (who's like my dad) is in the hospital and it's been a rough month, especially with finding the motivation to write. hope you like the chapter & thanks for being patient with me ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Coriolanus awoke with a pulsing headache and little recollection of what had occurred the night before and how he had returned to his room, still in the clothes he had worn the night before. The scent of white liquor remained on Coriolanus’s skin, and his mouth tasted sour from being sick. He cringed at the memory of last night when he had shown up drunk in front of the Plinth’s family doorstep. Coriolanus had all intentions of returning to his penthouse suite, yet when it was time to leave Pluribus’s nightclub, he dialled the Plinth residence in hopes of hearing your voice. His body had a mind of its own, guiding his feet back to you of all people. Strabo Plinth’s daughter haunted his mind amid all his thoughts. 

Coriolanus had vowed he would not be entrapped by something as fickle as love. Gone was the foolish boy whose heart could be serenaded and swayed by a girl like Lucy Gray—the ghost of District 12 who sings with Mockingjays. 

At first glance, Strabo Plinth’s daughter appeared to be the ideal candidate to become his wife. She was beautiful in a way the other Capitol girls weren’t. Although she’s well-mannered, there’s a hint of defiance within her that Coriolanus wants to tame, and most importantly, she is District. Despite your redeeming qualities, Coriolanus had no intentions of falling in love with you. But lust? That he would allow. Coriolanus knew he would be deluding himself if he didn’t admit that he was intrigued and partially awe-struck when he first met you. 

You were seven and a force to be reckoned with. Most had assumed that Sejanus was the younger sibling because he crouched behind his sister and parents. Coriolanus had never met anyone his age from the Districts. Everything that he learned of them was from his family and the Capitol. He had heard that the people were vile and undignified.  

District were merely scum that belonged underneath his shoe. You were the first person who had made him question if those statements were factual. At the academy, you introduced yourself to your classmates with confidence and poise that he thought uncommon of someone his age, especially from a lower class individual. She didn’t blink twice when no one embraced her and seemed content with having her brother, Sejanus, by her side. Romulus was the only person who could squeeze between the pair. 

Years had passed, and as Strabo Plinth had begun solidifying his place within the Capitol’s society, so had his children. Although impulsive and reckless, Sejanus had become Professor Agrippina Sickle’s protégé. He earned himself a spot in the Hunger Games as a mentor to the impudent Marcus. It irritated Coriolanus beyond belief that Highbottom favoured Sejanus and his sister over him. Good riddance.

His daughter excelled academically and in all challenges thrown at her. She had blossomed into a head turner, catching the eye of many suitors she paid no attention to. Many of the boys in his grade whispered and gossiped about how it would feel to be with a girl from the Districts, nonetheless one who could assimilate and possibly surpass Capitol expectations of those who have been low-bred. And they had tried, all failed miserably. Romulus and Sejanus acted as your guard dogs, never allowing outsiders too close. And now, Romulus was trying to do the same again. Coriolanus would not allow it. 

Even though he was able to win over Sejanus, Romulus is a different breed that would only learn from sheer force.

The plan was simple. Coriolanus called for a favour from two of his dumb brute classmates to teach Romulus a lesson. He instructed Henric and Reuben to rough him up a little, making it apparent what would come to those who tried to intervene with him. Coriolanus promised the two that he would review their 11th Hunger Games proposals. Henric and Reuben are at the bottom of the class and are Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s least favourite students. She had made it painfully evident that she couldn’t stand them.  Coriolanus threatened the duo that he would snitch to Dr. Gaul that they had assistance with their proposal, and he knew very well Volumnia despised liars. It was a form of insurance. No one would find out who was indeed behind the attack. It’s not like the Dolittle family has disposable income to bribe anyone, especially after “downsizing” and moving out of the penthouse building. The Plinth family now lived in their old residence. 

Reuben assured Coriolanus that he would notify him once the deed was done. It was easy to pinpoint Romulus’s schedule and routine since he shared the same classes as his fiancee and was Remus’s little brother. Coriolanus knew Remus quite well and had figured out where the Dolittle’s now lived. The thought reminded Coriolanus of the conversation he shared with Sejanus’s sister. 

Coriolanus had no one close to him. She stated that it’s hard to know and trust the version of him presented to her. Coriolanus thought he had friends. But upon further reflection, they were rather accomplices and acquaintances. Her observation was correct. It left him wondering what else Sejanus shared with her in those god-forsaken letters. Did he write of his character? Had Sejanus ever suspected his actions of betrayal? Or worse, did he tell his younger sister about the true nature of his relationship with Lucy Gray? It would be strenuous to win her over if she knew that information. Not that it mattered. She would still have to marry him, Coriolanus thought. But it still nagged at him. As Tigris once said, she would do nothing for Coryo if she didn’t trust or believe he cared. The advice had worked with Lucy Gray; why would it be any different this time? 

𓇢𓆸

Cold water ran down his body, washing away the night. Coriolanus’s mind wandered to his cousin, Tigris. The empty spot remained from when she had the maintenance man drill holes in the tesserae from the bathroom. Tigris may hate him now, but she will know whenever she buys new fabric and can design a fresh piece. It was because of Coriolanus and his detriments. He was no longer her precious and naive Coryo. Lucy Gray had made sure of that. No other District girl would make him feel foolish again. He knew better. Lucy Gray was glitter and gold, a shiny new toy that caught his attention. She was fascinating and a true performer who could capture her audience. Coriolanus hadn’t realized he was another audience member until the hanging tree.

Grandma’am’s voice echoed throughout the penthouse, singing the national anthem of Panem. Her shaky, shrill voice made his ears ring and head throb. He needed to stop drinking. Coriolanus doesn’t even know why he decided to go to the gin joint; he is just so angry. He could confide in no one about Lucy Gray and the truth behind her disappearance and their relationship. Although Coriolanus has improved, he won’t make the same misstep that he did with Lucy Gray. He would lie better. She was the one exception. 

His most intimate firsts would all be shared with those from the Districts. Coriolanus’s first kill was Bobbin from District 8, his first kiss was Lucy Gray from District 12, and now the girl he would marry and bed would be from District 2, the Plinth’s daughter. The thought made his stomach turn. How many associations does one need with the Districts before they're seen as one themselves? 

Grandma’am continued to bellow the Capitol anthem at the dining table while the cooks placed food on the placemats. His head still throbbed, and Coriolanus had half the mind to tell her to shut up. He couldn’t blame her. Grandma’am clung to a reality that provided her comfort, her life before the Dark Days. Coriolanus couldn’t imagine how the Capitol must’ve been prehistoric to the war, and the Dark Days remained in his mind. The bombing from the District 13 rebels still shook him to his core. 

“Are you going to eat that?” Tigris questioned. The scrambled eggs and bacon lay on his plate untouched. Her face was inquisitive. It was a refreshing break from the usual deadpan expression that she gave him at every glance. He sometimes wondered if Tigris would ever grow tired of her childish grudge against his Father and him. After all, she was the one reaping the benefits from their sacrifices. She should be grateful. 

“I’ll just have the bread for now, thank you,” he mumbled. 

Coriolanus was unsure if he could stomach anything else. He didn’t think this through. How would he impress and gain the trust of Strabo’s daughter in this condition?” The only currency he had to get him past her walls was his charm and his wits. She isn’t the type of girl who is quickly swept off her feet. He would ask Tigiris, but Coriolanus doubted that she would agree to help him, considering she made her distaste evident when he had announced his engagement deal with Strabo Plinth. 

Tigris went on a tangent. She had spoken fast and brash towards Coriolanus, ranting that a woman wasn’t to be owned or bought but cherished for who she is and not her assets or the pleasure she can provide to her male counterparts. Tigris implores that he doesn't seal the Plinth's daughter's fate for Snow's dynasty uprisal. She claimed we could survive without the Plinth's assistance, but Coriolanus knew better. They wouldn't make it through the year if they had to pay the rent fee and his monthly tuition, not off of the pennies she earned from Fabricia Whatnot and her storefront. Coriolanus was above asking Tigris to charge men for favours in the night. However, it did briefly cross his mind. Upon first impressions, Coriolanus had thought Tigris was trying to debate him on his morals. It was more profound than that. Tigris was reminded of the possibility that the Plinth's daughter could have been her if Coriolanus found a respectable suitor willing to pay a hefty sum for the chance to take the name of a Snow. Isn't that what Strabo Plinth had done? He traded his daughter for the power that comes with Coriolanus's last name. Stabo's daughter was now his. 

Brunch was short-lived. Coriolanus needed time to gather and prepare for his date with his fiance. Although he had strategized and managed to survive the games alongside Lucy Gray, he needed to figure out how to romance and court a girl. It never crossed his mind. 

Coriolanus knocked on the Plinth's residence door with a bouquet of Grandma'am's finest roses. He wanted to make an excellent first impression on their date. When Strabo Plinth’s daughter came to the door, Coriolanus wasn't surprised to see her looking as radiant as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a slick and neat ponytail, her enticing features on display. Whenever she tied her hair up, sinful thoughts plagued his mind. Coriolanus had to fight the urge to take hold of the flowing strands and pull her closer. He was tempted to laugh at the audacity of performing such an action but chose against it and handed the bouquet to her.  

“These are for you,” he grinned. 

She gracefully accepted them, returning his smile with her own. But her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet fragrance when she brought the flowers closer to her face as if the smell unnerved her. 

"You don't like roses?" It was a question, but it was apparent that Plinth's daughter was not entirely pleased as she initially led him to believe when she took the bouquet. 

"You had never asked." 

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes at her. It was true. He hadn't bothered to get to know the girl that he was to be married to. Call him naive, but he assumed it wasn't necessary, as the wedding was just another transaction along the road to his presidency. A minor misstep, he would make up for it later. 

𓇢𓆸

The vehicle pulled up to the Citadel, and Noll escorted them out of the car. The cold, brisk winter air knicked his face as he grasped his trench coat closer to his body and clenched the picnic basket in his hand, seeking comfort and stability to calm his nerves. 

"Coriolanus, if your idea of taking me out on a date is bringing me back to school, I promise you won't get far with me." Her tone was deadpanned as she stared at him with an unimpressed expression. He couldn't help but chuckle. Coriolanus was not only bringing Strabo Plinth's daughter to the Citadel. Dr. Volumnia Gaul had designed a prototype environment for the next Hunger Games. A large gilded cage-like room that encapsulates lush green plants of all kinds, bright, breathtaking butterflies that are poisonous to the touch, and tropical Jabberjays that flew overhead. It is a cornucopian change of environment from the Capitol of Panem. A small escape that only Coriolanus could provide her. "Trust me, just for today. Take a leap of faith that I'm not as bad as you believe I am," Coriolanus pleaded. He brought his hands together and put them under his chin with the basket to give her his best sad puppy dog expression. He felt like an idiot doing so until she let out a whimsical laugh at his expense and shook her head. 

They walked through the Citadel, and she followed behind Coriolanus, silently taking everything in as they approached Dr. Volumnia Gaul's sector. He remembered the first time he had visited the lab personally to deliver his paper assignment to Dr. Gaul. His stomach turned at the memory of Clemensia and the attack of the rainbow snake mutts. Doubt settled in Coriolanus's mind. Was this a bright idea? Would she appreciate the lengths he has gone for this to happen? Dr. Gaul only allowed authorized scientists and doctors like herself in the lab without supervision. It took a lot to regain her trust after the stunt he had pulled with Lucy Gray and his handkerchief. But she softened slightly when he told Dr. Gaul why he wanted to access the gilded cage exhibit. Coriolanus had a sneaky suspicion that Dr. Volumnia Gaul wished to recruit Strabo Plinth's daughter as an apprentice in the future. It would be the perfect demonstration to the districts that their own could turn on them and align with the Capitol. That's what he would do. 

Coriolanus ushered Ms. Plinth to the changerooms and placed the picnic basket carefully into his locker. "Here, change into these." Coriolanus handed her white cotton coveralls, gloves, and matching beekeeper hat with disposable shoe covers; these were required to enter the exhibition. She eyed them carefully, "Why do I have to change?" Coriolanus felt unsure if he should ruin the surprise. She looked at the clothing with great suspicion. You'd think that he was handing her a wild animal. They wouldn't make any progress if she were going to doubt every step of the way. 

He let out an exasperated sigh, "You're going to want to wear them for where we're going." Coriolanus knew that if he mentioned the butterflies, she would surely leave him right then and there.  

"And why-" 

"Please," Coriolanus cut her off before she could question him again. He must've looked as desperate as he felt because she offered him a tight smile and huffed, "Fine, but turn around when I change."  

She snatched the coveralls from Coriolanus and found a locker across from his to place her belongings and coat inside. He watched with her back facing him as she struggled to unzip her dress. "Here, let me help you," Coriolanus got a hold of her zipper and slowly dragged it down to reveal more of her skin. His fingers grazed her mid-back. The feeling was electrifying and invigorated an excitement within him that he hadn't felt since District 12. 

"I told you to turn around!" Plinth's daughter playfully shoved him back. Coriolanus chuckled more to himself. What was that? he thought. The goal is to make her fall for him, not vice versa. He needed to focus. 

They returned to their respective sides of the changeroom to put on their assigned uniforms. She stifled her giggle when they faced one another as Coriolanus adjusted the beekeeper's hat on his head. 

"You look ridiculous," she snorted. 

"You're not a sight for sore eyes either," he retorted. 

Strabo Plinth's daughter was swimming in the fabric of the coveralls, and the hat made her head appear bigger than it was, yet she still captured his eye.

“Follow me and stay close,” he cleared his throat and turned for the exit to return to the Capitol’s War Department. The endless white hallways made it easy to get lost, but Coriolanus had spent almost every day with Dr. Gaul as her apprentice and practically memorized all the ins and outs. The guards must’ve been informed of their visit. They eyed them curiously but did not utter a word.

Finally, Coriolanus arrived in front of door 50. “You ready?” He faced her, trying to read her facial expression, but seeing past the thick mesh was hard. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she quipped. 

He fished for the key card in his pocket and opened the door to reveal the hidden tropical rainforest. From the outside, you wouldn’t have guessed that such a thing existed inside the Citadel. Hues of vibrant dark green leaves and foliage surrounded the two of them. 

“Wow,” she gasped. 

“I’ll take it that you like it?” 

“Like it? I love it!” She walked past him to take it all in. District 2 is one of the districts closest to the Capitol, mostly made of rocky mountains and stone quarries. It was a shared first for both of them. He’s only seen such forestry in textbooks about the green forests that thrived during the pre-dark days. Coriolanus made a calculated guess that she had also never seen anything like it. The butterflies flew freely around them in an array of colours and shades. "Wow," she repeated the word quietly with each step she took further into the gilded cage. She brushed her gloved hands across the leaves in awe, taking it all in.  

"Coriolanus, this is beautiful." 

One of the butterflies landed on her forearm, another, and another. It was like she was a walking magnet. Strabo Plinth's daughter froze in place, mimicking a statue. "Oh... my... God," she whispered. 

"No sudden movements. They're poisonous, after all," Coriolanus replied calmly. 

Her body jerked at the word poisonous, knocking the creatures off her in one motion. "Gentle! They won't cause you any harm," he exclaimed. The last thing he needed was Dr. Volumnia Gaul penalizing him over dead butterflies. 

"You're such a jerk!" She punched his shoulder hard. That's going to leave a bruise in the morning. "You're horrible at this," she muttered.

"At what?" Coriolanus obliviously asked. 

"Dating." 

"Go easy on me. This is my first time." It bruised Coriolanus's ego to admit it. "You're lying," the surprise was obvious in her tone. She was facing him now, just a mere step away from them being chest to chest. The butterflies continued to fly overhead, but Plinth's daughter didn't seem to care anymore. 

"Why would I lie?" He countered. 

"You're the Capitol's golden boy! Of course, it's safe to assume you know your way around." She said dryly. 

"I know I have quite the reputation, but I haven't had much time to think about who I would've brought to the Cornucopia Ball." Coriolanus wasn't unaware of the whispers from his peers about who he might ask to be his date. Sejanus had even pressed him about it a couple of times. The ball occurs each year a couple of weeks before graduation. Considering that Coriolanus had been banished to District 12, he never got the chance to attend.

"What about Lucy Gray? You say that you and she were never a couple?" 

Coriolanus's body stiffened. Hearing her name come out of Sejanus's sister's mouth unsettled him to his core. It was a question, no, a test. She was baiting him. But how would she know anything? Silence stretched in between them. 

"Sejanus was quite the gossip." She continued. Yes, he was. It was one of the reasons why he was killed. Sejanus never knew when to shut his mouth and turn a blind eye. It was against his whole being. Even in death, Sejanus's voice will haunt him. 

"I had feelings for Lucy Gray, but she didn't feel the same in the end. I was just another part of the games to her." 

"That's not what-" 

"Sejanus is a idealistic romantic." He cut her off abruptly. "Maybe in another lifetime, things could be different." Coriolanus side-stepped Sejanus's sister to walk further into the gilded room. The air had begun to feel too thick, too hard to breathe. This was not a part of the plan. She was ruining it, just like her brother. Coriolanus needed to gain control and shift the conversation. Yet his mind wouldn't cooperate, his brain filled with nonsensical thoughts. He could hear her footsteps follow after him, but he chose to focus on the three butterflies that landed on his hand—taking slow, deep breaths with each flap of its wings. 

"I'm sorry- I didn’t mean to upset you." 

“It doesn’t matter anymore; she’s lost in the trees.” It wasn't a complete lie, and he wouldn’t explain further. It was up to her interpretation at this point. Lucy Gray could've been dead for all he cared, and it would be for the better. Coriolanus closed his eyes to refocus and center himself. His last two loves would lay to rest in District 12.  They couldn’t reach him now. 

The butterflies flew away when he let out his last exhale. In the blink of an eye, it was idle and empty when he looked back at his outstretched hand.

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[h0rnyauth0r]

mild enemies to lovers and a there’s only one bed here trope. with ghost. those are my only thoughts. (also, i apologize for not posting. i’ve been going through a lot :/)

word count: 2.7k

minors dni, thank you

fem reader, and all of my other usual tws.

the wind whistles loudly in your ears, a heavy snowstorm having blocked off your vision. it’s freezing, boots and heavy coat only able to provide a minimum amount of comfort as you travel through the deep snow.

you can hardly see. not only that, but the snow makes every single tree and pile around you look the same as the last. you’re not sure how long you’ve been traveling for, having been separated from your team.

hope begins to bubble up in your stomach when you notice a small shack in the midst of darkened trees, no lights present and a seemingly better shelter than the outside.

your footsteps feel heavy as you approach it, a certain level of anxiety making you rethink the choice for just a moment. but it’s unlikely that anyone would’ve found this, even after hours of walking outside it still seems abandoned.

your radio had been lost long ago, falling out of your hands and being lost in the midst of piles of snow. you wanted so badly to call out for someone, anyone to keep you company as you pull the door open.

it seems empty at first. until your body is thrown onto the ground with a harsh thud and you groan out in pain. there’s a knife held to your neck as you lock eyes with- your lieutenant?

you’re confused now, noticing the way he grunts and moves away from you. eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you close the door behind you, noticing the smallest fire ever surrounded by spare stones.

you didn’t realize that anyone else was separated from the group, noting the way he faces away from you and opts to pretend as if you’re not there. you’ve almost forgotten that you’re not on good terms with the lieutenant, who seemingly hates you.

you butt heads often, both hardheaded people who won’t back down. eventually the arguments became too much for captain price, who you recall threatening to discharge both of you if you keep it up.

it had been a few weeks since your last interaction, a small argument that’d resulted in your mission failing. to say you’d been reprimanded was an understatement, ghost was furious with you.

that was when he began to ignore you, not that you minded. now, though, it’s hard to ignore him when you notice the heavy breaths escaping his lips and the way he keeps a steady grip on his side.

your eyebrows raise, suddenly becoming aware of the blood that has spilled onto the floor in small areas. your eyes fall onto the small medical supplies left on a bloody piece of fabric, seemingly unused.

“you got hurt?” your voice comes out softer than you’d anticipated, hearing him grunt out a ‘yes’ as he sits with his back against one of the walls of the shack.

he lifts his gloved hand from the wound, and you see that there’s a bullet wound on the right side of his waist. you quickly approach him and sit down in front of him, pulling out your medical supplies.

when you pull out the proper materials, you give him a look. “wanna lift your shirt?” you ask, hearing him huff in an annoyed manner.

he hesitantly listens to you, untucking his shirt and lifting it up to reveal the wound. you wince when you look at it, noticing that the bullet is still in his skin. you grab onto the tweezers from your medical pack, leaning down and watching closely as you try to gently take the bullet out.

he groans out quietly as you pick the pieces out, noticing the bleeding begin to pick up. you turn to your right and grasp onto a piece of gauze, looking up at him.

“this is going to hurt.”

he nods, watching as you stuff the wound with some of the gauze. he winces, fingers digging into the wooden frames at the bottom of the wall behind him.

you continue cleaning and bandaging the wound, eventually being finished. looking up, you notice his eyes already looking at you. you look away and decide to stand up and stretch out a little.

after yawning, you look down at him. “you need to get some rest. i can watch out tonight.” you say, watching him shake his head.

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s only one bed here. you can take it.”

you look over towards where his finger points, immediately becoming flustered. there is only one bed. and it’s small. you’re not sure how either of you will get rest with the circumstances.

you try to think about how the night can go, cheeks heating up at the thought of sharing a bed with him. “w-we could potentially share a bed. it could be an efficient way for us to keep warm. you’ve lost a lot of blood so your temperature regulation isn’t going to work properly.”

you know he’s likely to say no, watching the way that his eyes look between you and the bed several times. but to your unsuspecting self’s surprise, he begins nodding his head.

you nod back at him, looking to the tiny fire that seems to be slowly going out. “did you eat anything?” you ask, hoping that you don’t sound like you care all that much.

he shakes his head, and you take off the bag that had been placed on your shoulders. you know he was probably too busy concerned with his wound to think about food, but luckily you’ve got just enough rations for the two of you.

after you’ve eaten, the fire is almost out and ghost is adding whatever he can to keep it going. but you’re both tired, and soon enough that small fire isn’t going to suffice.

that’s when you both begin to take off the bulk of your gear, setting it down close to the bed in case you need to leave in a hurry. you notice the way he decides to keep a knife and his pistol ready, appreciating the small gesture.

neither of you speak as you both climb into the small bed, eyes slamming shut at the feeling of his body pressed against yours. you decide to try your best to ignore the way that your heart rate picks up and the way you feel flushed.

“you’re stiff.”

his voice is right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. fuck, he’s hot. you try to relax, but jump when his arm softly lays around your waist. it’s even harder when he pushes up against you more, his body mildly shaking from the cold.

you inhale sharply. “i’m trying to relax, i’m just having some trouble.” your words are shaky as you speak, biting down on your lip when his hips bump into your ass a little.

after a few minutes, you are able to calm yourself. but his body hasn’t stopped shaking, and you can feel it intensely. he’s freezing and you can’t really do much about it other than hope that your body can warm him up even a tiny bit.

“are you asleep?” you ask in a whisper, feeling dumb for asking. he obviously isn’t with the way his body is shaking.

“nope.”

you decide to turn your body so you’re facing him, becoming flustered with the close proximity. his eyes look into yours as you slowly move your hands onto his body, feeling him back away for a moment before leaning back in.

your hands rub against his coat, hoping to warm him up even a little bit. for a few minutes, his breath is all you can hear as your hands roam across his chest to try to help him.

there isn’t much more you can do though, especially once his hands grip onto yours to stop your movements. when you look up at him, that’s when you see the look in his eyes.

you’re not good at reading him, but you can clearly see when lust fills someone’s features. his eyes are lidded, filled with emotion you’ve never seen him direct towards a single soul.

you wish his mask was off, wanting so badly to know what’s underneath. you want to kiss him until you pass out, but you’ve never accepted that until now. the thought flusters you even more, looking down at where his hands grip your own.

he lets go of you, opting to use his hand to raise your chin up. “close your eyes for me.” he’s barely speaking as he says that, and you can feel his hot breath escape through the fabric of his mask.

your eyes flutter shut, blackness taking over your previous vision. after some brief sounds of fabric being moved around, you feel a featherlight pressure on your lips.

he’s kissing you, you realize. holy fuck. you don’t hesitate for a second to kiss him back, lips moving against his own as your hands find their way to his hair.

you notice that his mask is fully off, opting to keep your eyes closed tightly. there’s no way you could betray his trust now, not when he’s kissing you so good.

it’s almost dizzying the way his lips and tongue devour your mouth, sending a burning desire into your groin. your thighs rub together for a moment as you struggle to feel any sort of friction.

you find your fingers gently tugging on his hair, the force of his movements becoming more aggressive as his hands dig into your waist. one hand slowly slides down your body, reaching your crotch as he slips a hand into your pants and rubs you through your panties.

you moan against his lips, biting down on his lip for a moment. his fingers brush against your clit perfectly, making your hips buck forward and you let out small noises.

despite how small the movements are, you can still feel an orgasm building up in your core as you grind against his hand. it’s almost embarrassing how desperate you are for him.

his lips pull away from yours as his fingers lift out of your pants. you decide that it’s probably best if you move your hands away from his head, hands falling down onto his chest.

you keep your eyes closed but listen to the sound of him pulling his mask back on, feeling disappointed but understanding where he’s coming from.

“you have no idea how badly i’ve been wanting that.”

the sentence makes you feel flushed, face turning hot as your eyes open and you see his staring down at your now swollen lips. you smile the smallest amount as his words really go through your head, not realizing just how much you didn’t hate him.

“i’ve been wanting that and more, for a while now.” you say, noticing the way his eyes meet yours and show everything he hasn’t said. you want him so bad now, fingernails digging into the coat he’s wearing.

neither of you say anything as he lifts your body up with ease, your hips planting on his own as he lays underneath you. your breathing picks up as your hips push against his, feeling a large bulge brush against your aching clit.

his hands grab onto your hips as you grind into him, head leaning back as you let out small moans. your eyes clench shut as you move against him faster, biting your bottom lip hard.

you can’t handle just this anymore after a few minutes, looking back down at him and quickly deciding that you’re going to fuck him now. you want to ride his cock until he fills you up with his cum, until you’ve milked him dry.

“you want this, right?” you ask, noticing the way he nods quickly.

you decide to pull your pants off, needing to lean against him during the process. cool air hits your bottom half immediately, a shiver roaring up your spine.

you decide to let him keep warm by not forcing his pants off completely, unzipping his pants and sliding them down just enough to free his cock. but your eyes are wide when you actually see it, not expecting him to be packing so much.

you slide your panties to the side as you grind against his bare cock, eyes meeting with his as you bite your lip. your pussy starts to drip from the stimulation, and that’s when you decide to carefully sit on his cock.

the stretch of his cock filling you up makes you moan loudly, breathing strained as the tip hits against your cervix. your pussy is burning a little from his size, and you stay still to adjust to it.

you look down at him and notice the way his eyes look over you, falling down to where your bodies meet. his hands dig further into your skin as he stares, before he’s looking back at you.

“go on now, pretty. ride me.”

his voice has you clenching against him as you start to grind against him, his cock slowly sliding in and out and hitting your insides perfectly. the moans you let out are quiet as you pick up the pace, the tiny bed creaking beneath the two of you.

as your hips rock against him, he starts thrusting up into you too. the action makes your mouth fall open, eyes shutting as you move faster. your hands move to his chest, trying to speed up even more as you feel yourself getting closer to your peak.

one of his hands slides down to where you’re connected, slowly circling your clit and pressing down hard. your walls spasm against him, making him groan out quietly.

“fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

his hips slam up into you faster now, the force causing a squelching noise as you feel your orgasm brushing up quickly. once it hits, you loudly call out his name as your body shakes and convulses against his own.

“gonna fill you up.” his voice says in a strained tone, and you look down at him and force his mask up. his movements halter but you smash your lips into his in the moment, his thrusts beginning to speed up more.

at this point, his pace is almost inhuman as he fucks into you with such a force that you’re moaning out against his lips from overstimulation. he bites down on your bottom lip and tugs hard, making you cry out and pull back.

tears begin streaming down your face, so much happening at once to the point where you feel as though you can barely handle it. his cock is slamming against yout cervix repeatedly, sending a sharp pain up your spine that feels so very good in the moment.

“you’re so fucking good.”

you feel his nails break open your skin as you feel his cum fill you up, hips slapping against you as they stutter roughly. his whole body is shaking from the force of his orgasm, the hottest grunts escaping from his mouth.

you breathe in heavily, eyes looking down at his lips in admiration as you lift your hips up and unsheathe his cock from your overstimulated pussy. you notice that his pants are wet from your interaction, quickly tucking his cock away to prevent him from getting too cold.

“i enjoyed that a lot.” you say, moving your panties back into place and feeling his cum ooze out slowly. the thought of his cum inside of you makes you feel needy again as you put your pants back on.

you yawn louder than anticipated, hearing him let out a puff of air. it’s probably the closest thing to a laugh you’ll hear from him. your eyes fall onto his, noticing the way he pulled his mask back down and lays there with his pants still unzipped.

“i’ve been wanting you for a long time, y’know.”

you flush under his gaze when he says those words, deciding to climb into the tiny bed and lay as close to him as you possibly can. his body feels warm now, heart beating quickly as you rest your head on his chest.

his hands find their way in your hair, running through it gently as you feel yourself grow more and more tired. you’re so out of it after fucking him that you can barely think.

“simon… i think i’m in love with you.”

the words leave your mouth just as you fall asleep, completely unaware of the fact that they were said aloud and not just a thought. he hears you, but doesn’t respond.

his response is shown in the morning, when your bodies are clung to one another and curled up together. the cold doesn’t seem so bad after all that has happened anyways.

*****

also, thank you for 200+ followers! i appreciate every single one of you <3

#ghost x reader smut #ghost smut #smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #cod #x reader #ghost x reader #female reader

[ruewrote]

𝑖𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛. . . 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦.

PAIRING: jj maybank x gn!reader WARNINGS: 'unreciprocated' feelings GENRE: angst/fluff SONG INSPIRATION: back to you by selena gomez WORD COUNT: 757

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all you’ve ever wanted was to be loved, like the sort of love that you’d find in hallmark movies and romance novels. 

maybe it was because it always seems to work out for the two best friends who realize that they’re in love with each other years down the line, doing the whole running to stop the train scene or booking the first flight to wherever the person was because they couldn’t help not being without them for another second.

yeah well this definitely isn't a movie this is real life. where you're in love with your playboy best friend. who has very clearly not shown any interest in you in the whole six years of your friendship, you should probably stop doting over him. 

then again it is quite difficult to do that since you can't help being attracted to him since he's the literal guy version of you, not in looks but in personality you were practically the same person.

sarah and kiera always comforted you whenever you'd see him chasing another girl. even though john and pope never said anything, you could see their obvious side glances at you.

you just couldn't wrap your head around why he couldn't see what was right in front of him, quite literally! 

pining over someone that wouldn't even look in your direction romantically doesn't really do wonders for your mental health. that’s how you ended up wrapped up in your covers with a large pizza with sweet home alabama playing in the background. the other pogues were at some party that you weren’t wanting to go to so you opted for the ‘self care’ night you were currently having.

your parents had conveniently gone out for a date night so you could sulk in peace.

ding dong!

“seriously? maybe if i stay quiet they'll just go away–” you think but were cut off by the constant ringing of the door bell.

groaning as you dragged yourself out of bed and downstairs, the doorbell still being rang in a songlike manner, looking through your peephole being met with a soaked jj.

You twisted the key and pulled the door open for him. “what are you doing here jay?” 

“nice to see you too, now if..you… don't mind.” he squeezed past you into your home, his clothes still dripping, grabbing a towel for him so he couldn't soak the carpet more than he already had, trying to spare yourself the lecture from your parents later.

“i thought you were at that party?” you questioned him as you watched him drag the towel across his body briefly before ruffling his hair with it.

“oh yeah! there was a noise complaint, cops showed up and they shut it down blah blah blah.” he let the towel hang over his shoulders as he approached you.

“thought i'd come and see my favourite person instead!” he smiled at you, looking up into his eyes. it was always a dangerous game with jj, that intoxicating blue had the tightest hold on you. he didn’t know that all he'd have to do is look at you to get pretty much anything he wanted.

you’d keep that to yourself though. 

“yeah, yeah. you're lucky i didn't leave you out in the cold.” you snorted, making your way back up to your room, him trailing close behind you.

“you know the drill, maybank.” 

“I know, no outside clothes on the bed,” he whined, standing at the bottom of your bed playfully throwing his head back, impatiently waiting for you to come back with the spare clothes he left with you. It made sense to leave some since he stayed over so often.

with a salute he shut the bathroom door.

you totally forgot what you were worried about with the way that jj made you laugh as you both joked and stuffed your faces with cold pizza. as the night went on you did manage to finish your movie with protests coming from the sleepy blonde.

not knowing how it happened but the two of you ended up cuddling, him being the big spoon you laying on his splayed out arm, the other thrown over your stomach. hearing his evened out breaths from behind you knowing he was asleep as the credits rolled.

smiling to yourself knowing he would doze off before the movie finishes since he always does.

“it hurts me, just how much i ache for you.” you whisper out loud before drifting to sleep..

Not knowing that he was actually awake beside you.

© ruewrote.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank oneshots #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank fanfics #jj maybank drabbles #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow oneshots #rudy pankow imagines #rudy pankow fanfics #rudy pankow drabbles #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks oneshots #outer banks imagines #outer banks fanfics #outer banks drabbles #obx #obx x reader #obx oneshots #obx imagines #obx fanfics #obx drabbles #x reader #oneshots #imagines #fanfics #drabbles #ruewrote

[thewriterg]

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

pairing(s); peter parker x gn!reader, can be read as tasm or mcu peter

summary; With exams less than a week away poor dietary decisions, unhealthy sleep habits, and cramming everything you’ve learned into different sockets of your brain was on your radar but you and peter always pull through —flufftober day; 3—

word count; 800+

warning(s); fluff, kisses, pet names, sleepy couple, and language

playlist; sweater weather by the neighborhood

A/n:—GIFs; @kitherondale & @cherienymphe— me when I listened to sweater weather and didn’t make me want to rip my hair out my scalp; 🙀

The wind blew into Peter's dimly lit room he sat at his desk glasses resting on the bridge of his nose laptop propped open the continuous sound of keys typing while his fingers danced along the board with a sudden halt before they continued in a melodic manner

Click-click-click-crunch-click-click click-crunch- click-cli-tap-tap-tap-tap-

You on the other hand lied on your stomach on the comfort of the bed the cool sheets under your skin engulfing you fully your nose in textbook quite literally as it lied under your chin whole you read over the section writing down key points to drill into your brain later humming a tune from your throat of a song that you remember faintly, that you couldn't quite get out of your head.

Peter could feel the heat rushing to his face and he was suddenly very grateful for the lack of bright light in his room as one of his hands rested on your knees the other typing against the keys of his laptop that same comforting noise

You were up from your position off the bed trailing behind Peter's chair he finished typing his last few words before turning his attention towards you a welcoming gaze looking over your features as you slid next to him shuffling awkwardly in the chair that was too small to fit you both before you settled on the potion of you leaning against the arm of the chair, your legs thrown over the brunettes lap, and your head resting against his shoulder

Click-click-click-click-click-tap-tap-tap-click-click

Suddenly he was jerking in his seat as your cold hands pressed against his stomach recovering quickly so he didn't drop you while you snickered into his shoulder

“Bug boy can't handle a little cold?” You teased and if Peters face wasn’t red before it was beet now as he huffed with a roll of his eyes playfully

“Spiders die in the fall Y/n” He gasped playfully in mock offense and you could hear the smile in his voice without looking directly at him and you hummed in response playing with the loose thread of his sweater curled it around pinky before pulling downward for it to unravel in a loose spiral as you repeated the process

“I have to go dress shopping for your funeral, get one of those big church hats” You teased and the pale boy was gasping again with more seriousness to his tone

“Not the hat, im putting in my will that no one is allowed to wear obnoxious hats at my funeral it's a disrespect” Peter said matter-of-factly as holding back laughter in his throat occasionally pausing to get get his sentence out before he could turn into a laughing mess

“I'll be at the door with a basket snatching hats” You stated seriously before a second passed and you were both falling into a laughing fit that’s blended into the rustling trees outside the sound slipping through the open window seal

While you both settled after a moment you went to stand to go back to your work but Peter had grabbed onto the back of you he shirt In protest before you could get far looking at you with a pout

“We’ve been working for two hours we deserve a break, come on.” With a small huff you nodded before returning to your original position before letting a yawn take over your body resting your head on Peter’s shoulder as he swung you both side to side and soon he felt you lean into him a little more and listened into your heartbeat get a little slower

The vigilante couldn’t tell how much had passed but the sun was just setting when he had last check and now stars were in the sky he found a rhythm in your fanning breath against his neck

Peters attention shifted to his opening door rushing to shush his aunt with a finger to his lips and wide eyes which she visibly cringed at while nodding

“Just letting you know that I’m getting started on dinner and I just wanted to know if they were staying” She whispered apron secure around her frame and hair up on the back of her neck in a bun

“I should probably get them home curfew is soon” He whispered in response

“You know you’re a really good partner Peter” May whispered and before the boy could respond she was out of the room with the gentle shutting of the door following after her

“A good partner huh?” You mumbled tiredly and once again Peter was a red as he’d ever been

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x gn!reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x you #gn!reader #fem!reader #male!reader #spooktober #kinktober #flufftober #angstober #fluff #romance #i love you #thewriterg #2023

[queenimmadolla]

TEMPTATION

(Steve Harrington x afab!Reader SMUT)

summary: you fuck Steve Harrington in a church parking lot. that's it.

warnings: smut, slight humiliation kink, unprotected sex, maneater!reader (cue nelly furtado) and uh yeah sex in a church parking lot. a/n: inspired by this gif set. and before anyone starts crying about me writing religion kink stuff─i'm a former christian and i say we fuck Steve in front of a church. and i also say we thank @kitmon for beta-ing this.

* . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * .

Fucking Steve Harrington in a church parking lot on a Sunday morning was not on your bingo card.

First of all, you absolutely hated Sundays.

Normally, you spent it preparing yourself mentally and emotionally for the draining experience known as high school the following day. And, of course, at church. 

While you never bought into religion, your parents had and like every other teenager, they didn’t actually give you a choice to attend. 

It used to annoy you, but that was before you noticed how often Steve Harrington stared at you, seated next to his parents in their pew and looking very much the part of a Good Boy.

Maybe that’s why you ended up in the backseat of his car, skin slick with sweat and thighs slick with your own arousal as you bounced on his cock, fingers clenching onto the seat behind him.

“Oh, God—please don’t stop,” he begged, fingers indented into the meat of your ass as he panted like a parched dog underneath you. You were so wet and tight, squeezing his cock in a manner he would never in his life ever be able to forget. Your mouth dropped open, a heated and wanton moan escaping you when one of his hands slid from your ass to between your bodies, rubbing quick and brutal circles over your clit. Your thighs trembled when you felt the head of his cock nudge against something sinful in you that demanded more, forcing you to slam yourself down on him harder.

The windows of the car were fogged up, and you were positive you could feel it moving; it’d be obvious to anyone who so much as looked in the direction of the parking lot that you two were fucking.The thought alone almost made you cum.

Steve let out a cry, head thrown back as he felt a sudden rush of your slick coat his dick.

“FUCK— how—how are you so wet?” His breathing was labored, brows pinched together in an expression that you would have thought looked an awful lot like it was caused by pain if he hadn’t been urging you up and down. “You’re fucking soaking my cock— oh, fuck—I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.”

You clenched around him, trading your grip on the seat for a hold on his knee as you leaned back, hips rolling furiously against his.

Steve moaned, grip on your hip tightening as he stared down at where your bodies met, at the ring of cream-colored release forming around his base and coating the dark patch of hair over his pelvis. “Look at the mess you’re making, holy shit— I’m gonna cum—you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Steve himself wasn’t all that religious, he mostly attended church for the same reason you did. Still, there was a part of his mind that entertained the concept of afterlives; specifically, his and how he was positive he’d be going to hell for cumming buried in you, right outside of a building where a pastor was preaching about the importance of rejecting sin and temptation. 

“Forgive me, Lord,” he mumbled fervently, over and over again as he felt his balls draw up in anticipation for his climax.

Normally, your pleasure was your number one focus (had to be someone’s, right?) but something about having Steve Harrington cream all over your insides was too appealing to ignore. Especially when he started begging his god for forgiveness for how good your pussy made him feel, walls constricting around him. He should’ve kept begging you instead.

“Shut up,” you hissed, grinding down against him. Despite the distraction of his mumbling, your body remained focused on the task at hand and it shivered with the idea of ruining him, so much that the squelching was no longer just a sound, it was a sensation, your cunt sucking him in even as your hips lifted. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed within the confined space of the BMW.

You grabbed his wrist, yanking his fingers away from your clit to suck them into your mouth. Steve let out a choked sound, voice rising in pitch as he whined and came inside you, forcing you to stay in place so he could fill you with his cum. The sheer force of it had your eyes rolling back into your skull.

 His grip on your hips loosened as he came down, hairy chest heaving with his exertion.

You sighed, body relaxing as you reached down to grab your dress, pulling it over your head. “‘D you come?” He slurred out, and you ran a hand through his hair, pushing the strands stuck to his forehead with sweat from his face as you raised your hips and he hissed when he slipped out of you; soft, come-covered cock resting against the hair of his happy trail.

You didn’t bother grabbing your panties from the floor of the backseat as you popped the door open. 

“No,” you climbed out of the BMW, sparing one last glance at him. It was a powerful feeling, seeing the former King of Hawkins looking utterly wrecked and used up from a quick car fuck. He was lucky he hadn’t stumbled onto your path when he had been a student at Hawkins High. You would have loved to have made a mess out of him for the whole student body to see. 

The stupid look on his face when he realized he hadn’t even made you cum felt better than any orgasm.

“You made a mess,” you stared pointedly down at his matted-down pubes and the shine you could see trailing down his inner thighs towards the seat. Then you slammed his car door shut and fixed your hair as you made your way back to the church with a smirk, all too aware of the heated gaze you felt on your back until you slipped through the heavy wooden doors just as the pastor finished up his sermon on repentance.

You wouldn’t have learned anything from that, anyways.

#Steve harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x reader smut #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington blurb #Joe keery #Joe keery x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things volume 2 #stranger things volume 1 #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things vol 1 #Steve Harrington x afab!reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve harrington fic #stranger things 3 #steve harrington smut

[tumbleweed-run]

Payback

Kinktober 2023 Temperature Play

“Shit.” You cursed nearly crawling backwards up the bed. 

Gale chuckled even as he clamped his knees around your hips to keep you in place. He kept up his work, trailing a rapidly melting chunk of ice around one of your nipples. Slowly, he worked it towards the other nipple, a cool rivet of water trailing down your stomach. You squirmed, not really to get away but rather an unconscious reaction. 

Gale was sitting across your hips and thighs, knees pressed into your hips to keep you in place. Your hands were gripping his thighs so tightly you knew he’d probably bruise, but Gale wasn’t complaining. He swirled the chunk around your other nipple, already hard, not touching it just yet. Then, feather-light, it skated across the tip. Same reaction: you swore, and your back arched, causing the rivulet of water to trail off your side. 

This time, almost immediately, Gale ducked down his head, pulling your taut nipple into his mouth. You whimpered, the warmth of his mouth feeling positively burning against your frozen skin. The burning sensation was just this side of painful, as was the feeling of the ice trailing back the way it had come. 

His tongue flicked over your nipple drawing another moan out of you, one that transformed into a cry as he wasted no time in drawing the ice across the other one. Your body wasn’t sure what it wanted to do: draw yourself up into the heat of Gale’s mouth or shy away from the ice. So instead you were left squirming beneath him finding no relief. 

“Having fun yet?” Gale teased as he pulled off of you with a pop. 

You didn’t have time to answer before he turned his attention back to the other side, repeating the same motions. This was payback, a punishment, torture… something. It was winter and maybe your hands were often cold. And maybe you took great delight in worming your frigid fingers beneath the collars or up the backs of Gale’s shirts. When he was focused on something, he startled, often yelping in a less than dignified manner. 

And maybe you spent a little too long laughing about it that you hadn’t noticed the promise of retaliation. After all, Gale was capable of easily conjuring up ice even in the warmth of your bedroom. 

Which was how you found yourself pinned beneath your wizard as he trailed ice across your skin. 

He was switching back and forth more quickly now, your moans drawn out into constant whimpers as he did. Perhaps worse than the constant temperature fluctuations against your nipples was how Gale was restraining you. In this position, you couldn’t find any relief against your aching core. Even your thighs were pinned together making you ever aware of growing wetness between them. 

You kept your fingers digging into the tops of his thighs. 

You hadn’t realized your eyes had fallen shut until he placed a kiss against your lids, lips slightly chilled from chasing after the ice. You blinked them open to see Gale watching you carefully, the entire ice chunk had melted. 

“Good?” He asked. 

You nodded, “I’d be better if someone were between my legs,” you said after a beat. 

Gale laughed, loudly, his head thrown back. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“I live to serve,” he said with a smirked. You shivered again. 

He readjusted himself so he was kneeling between your spread legs. Softly he pressed a kiss to your sternum before trailing several more kisses down to your naval. You gasped when he swirled his tongue into it, not having realized some of the melted water had pooled there. After a second he continued his trail downwards. 

You almost didn’t hear the incantation. Whining you tried to pull your legs together but Gale moved quicker, laying his forearms across your thighs, trapping them open. Even though you could feel the warm puff of air on your skin, it was a new ice chunk that pressed between your folds first. 

“Fuck,” you swore, hands flying down to thread through Gale’s hair. 

You cursed again when you realized he was holding the ice in his mouth. He rubbed it gently up and down, tracing a cold path from your entrance to your clit. He held it against your clit even as you cried out and writhed against him. The melt was running down and pooling onto the sheets beneath you but really you weren’t sure anymore what was water and what was arousal. 

The ice chunk was dropped from Gale’s mouth after a few more passes but when he pressed his mouth against you his tongue was still frigid. You whimpered louder, tugging at his hair, once against being denied the relief of warmth. 

You felt Gale huff, amused, against your core. 

He set to work licking and sucking at your clit, the temperature gradually rising. You tried tilting your hips up to encourage his movements, except every time you did the melt water would run down to your lower back. Unconsciously, you began rocking against him, fingers gripped in Gale’s hair, keeping him there. 

If anything his moans encouraged you. 

Unexpectedly, the (much smaller) ice chunk reappeared, one of Gale's hands guiding it into your entrance. You came without warning, violently. Thighs clamping unable to keep from riding against his tongue and fingers which continued pressing the ice further into you. 

Once your legs relaxed enough for Gale to move again, he sat up and leaned back over you. Fingers still tangled in his hair, you pulled him to you for a kiss. He returned the kiss happily, tongue stroking its way into your mouth much the way it had just been between your legs. 

Gale pressed his cock into you then, a low hiss spilling from his mouth. The ice was likely all gone, but the near frigid water that was pooling inside you hadn’t warmed completely yet. He wasn’t deterred. With the first thrust, you felt the water rush back out of you, displaced. 

Finally, you untangled your hands from his hair, moving them to grip his arms as he began thrusting into you. Your breasts bounced, nipples still hard ghosting against the warmth of Gale’s chest. Overwhelmed you whimpered, trying to pull him flush against you, but he wouldn’t allow it. You tried not to squirm, but eventually you did, body both trying to flee the sensation and pull it closer. 

Gale pulled out of you completely and sat back onto his knees. “You’re making this difficult,” he said. 

Before you could answer, before you could apologize, he grabbed your hips and flipped you. Before you could even think to do it yourself, Gale pulled your hips up until you were kneeling. Immediately, he was pressing back inside you. This new position was a relief, finally able to press most of your body against the mattress. 

“Good girl,” Gale rewarded as he was finally able to find a rhythm with his hips. 

Reaching down beneath you, your fingers found your clit. You almost cried at your luck, they were cold again. You couldn’t care now though, you could feel another orgasm building. Gale’s thrusts became sloppy, and his grip on your hips grew tighter. 

He got there first, spilling into you with a moan. You followed not far behind, cunt fluttering around his cock. 

“I have a warm bath ready,” Gale whispered a few minutes later as he laid over your bath, gently stroking your hair. 

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #kinktober 2023 #temperature play #is this how magic works in dnd? no #do I care? also no #dm rolls plot device

[romanoffsbish]

If You Want to Be My Lova

Yelena Belova x PlusSize!FemReader

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

A/N: Though I identify R as plus size, I didn’t give her much description to leave it open to a broader range of readers who struggle with loving their bodies. (Pssst, you’re beautiful—I just know it’s true 🥺) | 3,912 Words

Warnings: Steve’s a fat shaming asshole, Body Image Insecurity. Alluded to/never specified eating disorder.

A/N 2.0: I personally detest Steve, but to be clear I don’t genuinely think he’d be like this, I just needed an antagonist.

Request

Steve watched from across the counter as you wandered into the kitchen, your water in one hand and your phone in the other as you perused the kitchen in search of breakfast. He'd seen the exact moment your eyes lit up when you saw the pink boxes on the counter.

An unnecessary wave of glee ran through him as he prepared to open his mouth and speak, "Are you sure you want to eat that Y/N? If you're serious about losing weight why not look into eating some rolled oats with berries?"

He was being vindictive, you'd grown used to it after you worked your magic and got Natasha to finally ask out Wanda, he's been visibly bitter over the situation ever since. The talking point of your weight was easy enough for him to cling to, he was in peak fitness, and it would only come off as a concerned friend trying to help you reach a "better" state of wellness.

What he failed to consider was Wanda was on her way into the kitchen as well, and she was able to see the exact moment your spirit broke. The light in your eyes faded fast, and the donut in your hand was gently set back into the box, she saw the way your lip wobbled, and your eyes filled with not only tears, but dread too.

——

It enraged her honestly, you were the sweetest person around these parts, and deserved to be treated with nothing less than love and respect.

Steve saw it too, the way you bit your lip and closed your eye's tight to try and reel your feelings in. Crying over it changes nothing...

He went to lift his mug of coffee to his lips as if he was accomplishing something amazing, his smile smug as ever when you turned away, but it fell fast when the steaming contents of his mug were sloshing over the edge of the glass in a way that could only be explained with magic.

He hissed as the drink scalded him through his thick cotton shirt, his chest on fire now, and in a dramatic manner he removed the stained shirt to reveal his toned abs, and ripped arms.

"Wanda, what the fuck was that for?" He called her out immediately, and so she entered the kitchen with a victorious smile, and red tinged fingertips. "Whatever do you mean Rogers?"

"I know what you did."

"Yeah, and I too know what you did," she glares menacingly in his direction while also setting a reassuring hand onto your shoulder, "I'd say the punishment fits the crime."

Steve glared right back, and you finally turned to see what must've occurred to cause this rift, you felt guilt gnawing at your gut, it wasn't a fair feeling, but yet you could feel it festering.

Wanda's fingers continued to spark in shades of a dangerous crimson as the burned man wasn't appearing to be backing down, and you didn't want to involve her any further. It felt sorta unfair for her to fight your battles for you. On account of her being your girlfriends future sister in law, and also because this entire moment was beyond mortifying for you.

To have your insecurities viciously thrown in your face in a public space like this, well it was rather juvenile, and so it made you feel like you were that same kid crying under the bleachers all those years ago when kids were being cruel.

The people pleaser in you won out alongside the embarrassed little one who still resided in your heart, so you took in a shaky breath before trying to calm the witch, "It's okay Wands."

You'd gently settled a hand over hers that still held tightly to your shoulder for comfort, the witch looked back at you, the sad smile you offered didn't calm her though, it only fueled her on. "It's not, especially not when he himself is only a byproduct of a steroidal experiment."

Steve's stance faltered ever so slightly, his ego now efficiently bruised. His mouth spluttered embarrassingly for a moment before he left the kitchen altogether in a grumbling huff.

"Tata Captain Hot Head," she flipped the man off, then turned back to you as you giggled.

"Hey dorogoy," you looked at her inquisitively, and she offered you one of the warmest smiles you'd ever seen, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course, whatever you need Wands," she beamed, "I'm glad to hear you say that, can you get two plates for us? I'll take a maple bar, and you can pick that sprinkled one back up while I make us a fruit salad and some hot cocoa."

Wanda watched closely, there was a hesitation in your demeanor, as if you were now scared. You however nodded meekly, then began to shuffle around the space to do as she asked.

"Ooh, did I see donut holes too?"

"Yup," you confirmed, and then you watched from your place at the counter as six tiny balls of dough and sugar danced through the air until they landed evenly between your plates.

The two of you spoke about your weekly movie night tonight while picking at the food before you, you smiled when the witch said you got to pick, you settled on Hocus Pocus, and Wanda smiled when she saw your plate was empty.

Then Wanda watched your face fall as she described in detail how she'd prepared a couple of snack trays for the both of your girlfriends with the ravenous appetites. This was a normal conversation, but now that Steve threw you into this self deprecating headspace she could see you debating if you wanted to go anymore.

The pressure to eat another meal today was already crippling your soul, it felt wrong to even consider nourishing yourself after the way Steve haphazardly regarded your body. Seeing how fit he was didn't help either, it only made you feel like you truly didn't deserve to eat.

"Well, I have some errands to run Wands, but I'll see you tonight," you collected both of your plates, and left her behind with a side hug as you departed, but your thoughts were so loud all the witch was left to do was frown as she made her way to the gym to try and fix this.

—

Natasha slammed Yelena into the mat for what was like the tenth time in an hour, "Cyka."

"Just admit that I'm better, and we'll be done."

"Never, I am just distracted," Yelena groaned, "Something in my gut is deeply unpleasant."

"Yeah, you simply can't stomach losing," Nat laughed as she once again dodged her sisters fist with grace, but then she was groaning when Yelena's fist hit her in the gut, she was too distracted by the sight of her fast approaching angered lover to have stopped the attack.

"Ha! I win!" Yelena screeched, only to be met with a shove that knocked her on her ass, and to wind up on the receiving end of Natasha's incredulous expression, "One hit isn't a win!"

"Listen here cyka," Yelena angrily muttered while stepping up to her sister, "Listening," Natasha smirked and Yelena reared back.

"Enough! Both of you!" Wanda caught Yelena's fist with red wisps, "Save your anger for Steve."

The sisters looked to her within an instant, both wearing different degrees of confusion.

"What did he do now?" Natasha groaned, she was growing really tired of his petty antics.

"He made Y/N self conscious, she's not okay."

Yelena's entire body tensed, Wanda could feel her fighting against her magic, and as if the God's heard her prayer Steve entered the gym.

"Let me go," she lowly growled, and Wanda did so without a single concern for the man, she was actually thrilled for what was to come.

Steve was unknowingly preparing for a beating coming down here, he'd come here to fight away the thoughts of inadequacy Wanda placed in his mind with the punching bag, but instead he was on his knees clutching his manly hood.

"What the actual fuck?" he seethed, but when he met the fiery gaze of one Yelena Belova he knew not to even test the waters any further.

"YA vypotroshu tebya, kak rybu," she rasped through gritted teeth, her hand fisted in the mans hair, as she punched him square in the nose, then as she went to further beat him she felt Natasha's hands on her shoulder's pulling her back, "Idi k yeye sestre, ty yey nuzhen, my s nim spravimsya." Yelena looked to her with a scowl, but after a moment of reassuring eye contact she conceded, "Zastav' yego zaplatit'."

(I will gut you like a fish / Go to her sister, she needs you, we'll handle him. / Make him pay)

"You know Rogers, Y/N only ever gave me the confidence to ask Wanda out, it was always going to be her, and never going to be you," she pulled Wanda in by her waist for a bruising kiss to ensure he understood her honest words.

He pouted like a petulant child, Yelena's firm hold was replaced with Wanda's impenetrable magic, so he was forced to watch them kissing.

Natasha lowered her body until she was level with the pitiful man, she patted his cheek twice patronizingly then she spoke only to ruin him, "Because sure Rogers, you might have the fawned over physique, but that's really only superficial, at the end of the day you're nothing worth experiencing," she beamed as his eyes filled shallowly with tears, "Y/N is a light in this dark world Steve, and for you to treat her like she's less than because you feel you lost me because of her is so strange. It's also not true."

"Everyone knows you have the personality of a brick wall, and it's just not that appealing. At least Sam and Bucky are interesting enough," Wanda taunted the scowling man, "There's a reason you could only ever score a date with the niece of your almost lover," she gripped him by his chin, and stared coldly into his eyes, "You're a pathetic excuse for a man Steve."

"That's all there is to it," Nat concluded, then with a precise swing of her fist he was out cold.

Wanda knelt beside him, and Natasha watched as red wisps jolted through his temple, "Sweet nightmares, I hope you wake up devastated."

"God, I love you so much," Natasha groans as she pulls her lover in for a deep kiss, "Y/N's family Nat, and nobody fucks with my family."

"That she is, I just hope Yelena can fix this," Natasha frowns slightly, and Wanda meets her concerned expression with an equivalent sigh, "If anyone can, it's her." Wanda softly grabs her lovers hand, "But we can also do our part."

—

Yelena raced through the entire compound in search of you, in her frazzled state she had neglected the obvious solution of just asking Friday, but after stumbling onto the vacant floor of the compound she knew she found you.

Soft sobs came from the room that used to be yours before you moved into Yelena's room. Back when you were Tony's assistant who he deemed worthy of a room, and not yet her everything, because that's exactly what you are.

"Y/N?" She called out softly as to not scare you, "Moye solnyshko," she whispered the words as she entered your old room, her heart stuttered when she saw the broken glass of your mirror, and it nearly shattered when she saw some of your things had been brought down here.

"Y/N, detka, what's going on?" She reached out for you, but you pulled your hands away, she frowned upon seeing the cuts that littered your skin and the air of despondency in your glossy orbs, it had made her imagine Steve's body dangling over a tub of carnivorous crocodiles.

It's now on her to do list...

"Lena, you should just go," you whispered brokenly, voice cracking as well as both of your hearts as you verbalized the words you didn't mean, "I'll never be what you deserve, so go."

"So that's just it? I don't get a say in this?"

"You're so beautiful Yelena, you deserve a partner that matches or excels you, which would honestly be impossible, you're perfect."

"You do excel me Y/N," she whimpers, and this time when she goes to reach you she does so by straddling your body, and making sure you can see just how true her words are. "I've never had anything to call my own Y/N, but now I have you, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

"But what if there's someone better along the way Yelena? It's easier if we break this off now, I couldn't cope if you left me in the future."

"Never," she promised, her lips deposited a peck to your tear stained lips, "There is nothing better for me than you detka, I've never been happier," she smiled warmly as she stared into your cloudy eyes, hers just as glossy as yours, "That's all because of you. Moya solnyshko—my sunshine; oh how you brighten my life."

Yelena watched the storms behind your eyes begin to settle, your once tense body melted into the mattress, and she took the moment as the perfect time to kiss you, to pour out just how much you meant to her into the gesture.

"Look at me Y/N," she remained soft as she sat you up, and pulled you into her lap without a moment of hesitation, her tone however held a seriousness to it, "You deserve to feel safe in your body, to be able to love yourself despite any societal norms that are like ugly lies."

"I try to love me Lena, b-but when people that look like Steve say what they do I can't help but worry that I'm not meant for your love, maybe I'm holding you back, or you're settling here."

"First of all, you are meant for me only," she held you far more tightly, a possessiveness falling over her at the thought of you being with someone else. "You move me forward detka, my life has only looked up with you at my side. Life is a box of chocolates with you."

A sweet giggle left you as Yelena paraphrased last week's movie to make her point.

"I'm not settling Y/N, if anything it's you who's settling," you instantly shook your head with a pout, and she smiled at you sadly, "I've done a lot of things wrong in this short lifetime Y/N."

"You didn't have a choice Lena," you growled, and she chuckled lightly, "I know, but I finally do, and you're the only thing I've done right."

A brief moment of silence fell over you both, Yelena's grip on you was firm, and loving, her lips pressed to your forehead, and when you quietly sniffled she figured you needed more.

"Fuck that dipshit in spandex," she grinned when you giggled softly, and her looming fears melted away when you rested your head over her heart, "He'll never know what it's like to be loved truly, because he doesn't understand that people don't care for that manufactured body of his when it's paired with a heart of stone."

"You though. You're not only beautiful to look at," she leaned back, giving you the once over for emphasis, but she truly did get distracted as she took you in, with her lip caught in between her teeth and a smile in her eyes she couldn't fake, "You've also got a heart of gold detka."

It was easy to believe when she looked at you like that, but you still had your reservations, and Yelena could see right through to that.

"I love you, for every last part of you," she readjusted you so that she could cup your cheek while her other hand held your hip, "Whatever you see as a flaw, I see it as you, and therefore it's perfect, because there's nothing flawed about you, you're a beauty worthy of marveling at, you're the perfect they say does not exist; this body of yours is my paradise."

Tears began to stream down your face, and in the past Yelena would freak out, worried that she said something wrong to upset you, but she's come to learn that tears can be joyful. That much she learned when she burst into them the first time you said you loved her, the sweet words dripped from your lips like honey.

"I-I love you Yelena," you blurted in a graceless blubbering manner, "I-I'm sorry for trying to leave you, I was just scared, but I promise you that I don't ever want to lose you, like ever."

"You never will," she purrs, her hand gently gripped you by the plush skin of your hips, "Because I'll never give you up for anything," she murmured against your lips before she slammed hers into yours passionately.

Her lips began to travel down your jaw, your breath hitched when she sucked lightly over the skin. "Lena, we have to go to movie night," you stuttered breathlessly. She groaned, "Do we have to? We can skip it tonight, on account of me wanting to love you until you believe it."

"I do," you whispered, "I believe you," with a genuine tone you brought a smile to her face.

"Then let's go moya lyubov'," Yelena lifted you up into her arms causing you to squeal at her show of strength, "I can walk just fine baby."

"I just didn't want to let you go just yet," she confessed while gently lowering you, and in return for her being so sweet you softly kissed her lips, "We'll be cuddling soon enough."

The two of you rode the elevator to your floor so you could drop off your things, and change into more comfortable clothes, but not until Yelena doctored up your injured hands, with a soft kiss to follow every bandaid she placed.

"Your boo-boos have been handled," she said with a bit of a pout, "I'll be back shortly," and with a soft kiss to your lips that lingered for a moment longer than need be she was gone.

Yelena left to shower off her day in the gym, and you unpacked your things before slipping into a pair of black sweats, with a worn down band t-shirt, and as you always did when feeling somewhat down, you slipped right into your girlfriends oversized army green hoodie.

You knew she bought it for you, but she wore it until it smelled enough like her to calm you... It's become your live in article for her missions.

Yelena's always been so incredibly sweet, you honestly can't believe you tried to end things. Her love has always fixed your problems, she never saw you as anything other than worthy of love, and affection; she was your soulmate.

"Well don't you look cuddly," she noted as she walked up from behind and grabbed your hand, "Can't wait to hold you close, it's cold"

"Cold?" She met your confusion with a sly smirk, then pulled you along wordlessly.

Once she pressed the button for the roof you understood her, excitement overran your body at the idea of a spooky movie under the light of the moon and the surrounding stars. That is until the doors opened to reveal a battered Steve with an ice pack on his bruised cheek, making you tense up, causing Yelena to look away from you and over at the unwelcome.

Before anyone could even mutter a word you got to bare witness to the brick house of a man wordlessly hobbling away after your much smaller girlfriend stepped towards him, and the smug smile that overtook your lovers face was rather priceless, "Lena, baby, you can't solve everything with brutal violence."

"Why not?" She pouted, and it was so innocent in appearance you'd never believe she was a highly skilled assassin in her younger days.

"Words can work too..."

"Yeah, he used words, we used our fists."

"We?"

"Yes, I broke his nose, and hopefully made him unable to reproduce. Wanda and Natasha did the rest to him, remind me to thank them."

"Goodness me, you three keep me on my toes."

Yelena grinned, then kissed you for the rest of the elevator ride. The ding signaled her to stop, and she stepped aside to let you exit first.

"Ta-da," Natasha cheered with jazz hands to draw your attention to the identical hanging day beds settled besides one another, with a table between with popcorn and candy atop.

Then you looked up to see the projector screen was adorned in purple and orange lights with smiling pumpkins after every few bulbs, the beds were littered with fluffy blankets, and there were outdoor heaters nearby for the anticipated maximum comfort level possible.

"I did nothing to help, but I promise I love you, witchy was just too nit-picky, I was safer on the sidelines," she said quietly while pulling you into her for a tight embrace, "I love you too."

"You'll be safer on the couch too if you keep it up," Wanda lightly threatened before taking you from her genuinely terrified lover, "I've prepped lots of food, make a plate honey."

"Where will she pick from if this weird plate is mine?" Yelena asked while holding an entire charcuterie board to her chest, her face never more genuinely serious than right now, and you stifled a laugh at the adorable sight, "Don't worry baby, feel free to enjoy your dinner."

Wanda looked to you scoldingly, worried you were using this as a get out of dinner card, but then you lifted your phone up to show her that it was okay, and you were fine. While Natasha and Yelena scavenged around with snacks, you and Wanda will share a pizza—like normal.

"What will you eat?" Yelena frowned, but you waved her off, "There's popcorn and candy."

Yelena held her plate out anyways, and you smiled while picking off a single cracker and a slice of cheese to top it off., "Thanks love."

"I will not be doing that," Natasha shared with her girlfriend who settled onto the bed beside her with an eye roll, "Oh, I was well aware."

—

When the expected ding of the elevator interrupted the undergoing movie night you smirked over at the witch who had left their outside daybed to collect the pizza, and with a soft kiss to your girlfriends parted lips, and with a careful transferring of a pillow in your place you joined Wanda on the porch swing.

"Every time," you remarked playfully, "Without fail," Wanda added while waving her pizza around for emphasis, "They're total chumps."

"But we love them anyways," you softly added, and Wanda snuggled into your side with a warm smile, "That we do," she whispered, then she hugged onto your arm tight, silently letting you know that she loved you too, and in turn you laid your head over hers on your shoulder as the both of you continued to watch the film.

"I'm sorry Emily; I had to wait 300 years for a virgin to light a candle."

"It was probably Steve..." Wanda nudged your side, and you cackled softly, "Knock it off."

——

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