#i don’t know what modesty is tonight

[ellecdc]

Surprise! We're Making Love

6.8k words

this is my first real like... real smut fic? so do take that into consideration [and please be nice to me lol] but also feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback or pointers.

this is a fic based on this trope that was sent to me by @bobluvbot like a million weeks ago and became my hyper fixation for far too long. I finally decided to put it into words. thanks to @unstablereader for championing me as I wrote this and convincing me it was decent enough to post lol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

CW: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coming inside of someone, AFAB reader, reader is a Pureblood Slytherin, has hair long enough for Rem to feel it on his shoulders when you're straddling him, reader has hair texture that sticks to you when wet, mentions of smoking weed and being high, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of arranged marriages, use of mudblood and blood supremacy

Remus doesn’t know how exactly this thing started for him.

Perhaps it was the day after a full moon when he forgot to lock the door behind him to the Prefects Bathroom and you let yourself in, nearly fully stripped before you realised he was sitting in the steaming, bubbling pool-sized tub with a spliff hanging lazily from his mouth.

“Circe’s tits!” You screeched as you hastily pulled up your towel to keep your modesty. “You didn’t think to alert me to your presence, Lupin?” You sneered half-heartedly at him as you tried to regain your composure.

“Sorry.” Remus chuckled, voice gravelly from a mixture of last night’s howling and tonight’s smoking. “My brain is moving a little slowly right now.”

You looked between him and the spliff and sighed. “Think you’ll be much longer?” You asked him quietly, cautiously, reticently. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look so dejected.

Slytherin princess; though you never really let that dictate how you treated people, just that it levelled you with a certain notoriety within the school. You were the only one who could talk sense into Barty Crouch Junior; Pandora Rosier’s biggest defender and advocate; Snape, Mulciber, and Avery’s biggest adversary; the one who encouraged Regulus Black to reach out to his estranged older brother; and the least likely to enact revenge on the Marauder’s for their pranks.

Though Remus had never shared more than a few words with you in passing, he knew a lot about you. In addition to the aforementioned qualities, you were a Pureblood, the eldest daughter and heiress to your family’s name and fortune, Prefect, received top marks in Charms and Transfiguration, and hated the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Knowing all of that made Remus rather rueful that he hadn’t spoken to you before now.

“Listen, this tub is nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool.” Remus started, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s big.” He clarified. “I don’t mind...sharing if you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable; otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave it to you.”

He didn’t really want to leave; not whilst he was still nursing his post-moon hangover and the warm water was finally starting to relieve some of the tension in his bones. But you looked forlorn, and damn Remus and his bleeding heart, he’d give it up if you needed it.

“I don’t want to kick you out... you were here first.” You murmured, apparently weighing your options in your head.

“I will leave if you want, L/N, but I’m more than willing to share.”

You searched his eyes for what, Remus wasn’t sure, but you seemed to come to some decision. You threw your head back and let out a strangled groan which Remus was certain was more for dramatic effect than it was indicative of any real ire.

“Fine, turn around.”

Remus smirked at you and tried to ignore the protesting of his joints as he stood in the pool and turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you to drop the rest of your clothes and your towel and sink into the water.

“Okay...” You whispered quietly. “You can sit back down now; thank you.”

Perhaps it had begun then; he’d offered you a puff from his joint, causing you to move closer to him. He was a gentleman and avoided noticing the way your breasts sat high on your chest, buoyant in the bubbly and fragrant waters.

He ignored the feeling of your elbow brushing against his. He ignored the way your hair, damp from the steam and humidity, stuck against your skin. And he definitely ignored the way that as the weed started to affect you, you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

What he couldn’t ignore? When you asked him what you could do to help him.

“Help?” Remus asked you bemusedly, jostling his shoulder and forcing you to sit up and return his gaze.

“Yeah; you seem tense, stressed.”

Remus let out a confused chuckle from his nose. “That’s really not anything you need to worry about.”

You laughed back at him, nudging him with your elbow. “Lupin.” You chided. “You were willing to give up your private pool time, you’ve shared your weed with me, and you’ve let me intrude on your bath; let me worry about it.”

And he doesn’t know how you did it, he’s not even sure he remembers how the rest of the conversation went – one moment the two of you were sitting an entire swimming pool apart and pretending the other wasn’t there, and the next moment he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his hands tangled in your hair as you took him in your mouth.

“Christ, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He tried warning you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

Like the watery siren that you were, all you did was moan and take him deeper, and in another moment, he was spilling down your throat.

Remus was sure he looked absolutely wrecked; naked, soaking, exhausted, a few fresh wounds from last night, and his permanent eye bags a more dramatic purple today on account of his lack of sleep last night.

Not you though; somehow even though you’d just done all the work, you looked ethereal. Wet hair pooling in the water around you as you sunk into the suds up to your collarbones, your lips swollen and glistening from your fantastic work if you asked Remus, and eyes a mischievous magnet nearly luring Remus back into the pool completely against his will.

“Godric, you’re good at that.” He breathed embarrassingly. Thankfully, you only laughed at with him.

“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, Lupin; but it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a whore.”

Remus cackled at that, thankful that his time in the water eased the soreness in his ribs before doing so.

“If you give me a few moments, I’ll return the favour dove.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered, moving back to the other side of the pool to retrieve the book you’d deserted in favour of pot, and then in favour of cock. “I’ll just take an I.O.U.”

Or maybe it started at the Ravenclaw afterparty following their win against Hufflepuff. You showed up with your friends fashionably late and clearly having pre-gamed to some extent if Barty’s uncoordinated movements were anything to go by.

He noticed you every once in a while, flitting around the party with various friends, dancing to various tunes, participating in various games over conversations; but something was different about you. You weren’t as...glowy.

Your smile never met your eyes, and your laughs weren’t carefree – not like they were in the tub. Not like they ought to be.

But hey, you helped him when he needed it, and he did technically owe you.

He brushed past you and gently pulled on your elbow as he continued moving. When you turned back to see what had happened, he nodded toward the exit.

He didn’t bother turning around to see if you were following him, he just carried on down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower before turning the corner to an empty corridor.

“Oi, Lupin; your legs are longer than mine. Slow down!” You called. 

He didn’t realise at that time how much it meant to him that you had followed; hindsight being 20/20, and all.

“Where are we going?” You queried as you caught up and walked in step with him.

“You’ll see.” He said simply, cutting across the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom.

“Going to teach me how to translate Ancient Runes, Lupin?” You joked, though your affect was clearly lacking.

“I’m going to help.” He responded simply, leaning backwards against the professor’s desk.

“Help?”

“Right.”

You smirked and raised a singular perfectly manicured eyebrow at him, looking him up and down with a suggestive glance.

“What exactly are you to help me with?”

“You seem worried, tense.” He repeated your exact words from the tub a little over a week ago.

You offered him a half smile that, once again, never met your eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

He offered you a soft smile in return. “I do owe you, though.”

Remus doesn’t know what it was that convinced you to accept his offer. One moment he was leaning casually against the professor’s desk as you watched him warily from the door to the classroom, and the next moment he had you splayed out on the desk before him with the skirt of your dress bunched up around your waist and his head between your legs.

Now, it’s important to note that Remus is a humble and modest person. In fact, he’s really quite self-conscious. He didn’t come from a notable family and compared to his friends he was basically a pauper, he was scarred and tall and lanky, and due to his lycanthropy, he avoided meaningful relationships; meaning that whilst his friends all enjoyed relationships and situationships, he stayed religiously single.

All that being said, there was something Remus knew to be true that he felt worth bragging about.

He was fucking good in bed.

So his ego was properly stroked when you threw your head back so hard that it made a painful whacking sound against the wood of the desk with just the first stripe of his tongue through your folds.

Like a man starved, he buried his face between your legs and hardly ever came back up for air. He pulled your hips flush to his chest with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his arms hugging your thighs that he used as earmuffs.

Remus could easily call this one of his new favourite places to be, especially with the sinful sounds escaping your mouth.

He used his thumb to tease your clit, thrusting his tongue in your hole a few times before bringing it back out to run through your lips.

“Oh, Merlin!” You cried, causing him to chuckle, which caused you to flinch slightly at the feeling of his cold breath against your cunt.

“Come now, L/N; you know that’s not my name.”

You let out another cry as he wasted no time diving back in, his nose rubbing at your clit as his tongue continued its assault.

Remus’ efforts were rewarded in the form of you cumming on his face and your body falling limp below him.

He allowed you to catch your breath as he fought to catch his own, ignoring his knees crying in protest from having spent the last however long supporting his weight on the hard stone floor.

“Oh gods.” You breathed finally, opening your eyes and stealing a shy glance at Remus, still stationed near your core.

He smiled wolfishly at you. “Better?”

You laughed; a real, hard laugh that had been missing from you all night. “Much.” You agreed readily, accepting his outstretched hand and sitting up on the edge of the desk and pushing your skirt back down to cover yourself. “Thank you, Lupin.”

Remus shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers, pushing open a window with a flick of his wand. “What are friends for?”

You snorted inelegantly; a far cry from the proper Pureblood heiress you’d been raised to be as you pulled your panties back on and took careful, albeit slightly wobbly, steps to join him at the window.

“Are we friends now?”

“Were we not friends before?” He countered, offering you a drag from his smoke that you easily accepted. He was sure his lips, tongue, and now the end of his cigarette still tasted like you.

“I didn’t think your kind was supposed to be friends with mine.” You offered, not looking at him as you passed the cigarette back.

“Blood status, really L/N?”

You scoffed derisively. “Please, Lupin. Give me some credit.”

It seemed to Remus that you looked almost hurt at his insinuation.

“I meant Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s.”

“Perhaps we can be the first.”

“Do many of your friends see you naked, Lupin?”

Remus grimaced at that. “Honestly? More than I’d like, yes.”

And there it was again, that uninhibited laugh. Remus felt vindicated in his task for this evening.

“Alright, friends then.” You agreed, reaching out for his cigarette and taking a long drag before returning it to him. “Let me know when you might need my help again, Lupin.”

“Likewise.”

And maybe it was the day that he had Avery pinned against the wall by the collar of his shirt for calling a first year Hufflepuff a Mudblood.

There was blood dripping from Remus’ nose onto the collar of his uniform shirt from an elbow to the face as he spat various threats promises of pain and maiming, when he felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

Due to the tension radiating through Remus’ body considering how close it was to the moon, his first reaction was to throw an elbow behind him. He thanked every deity possible that you were shorter than him when you ducked expertly to dodge his assault.

“Let him go.” You said simply.

Remus felt his brows furrow as he let out a protesting grumble.

“McGonagall is coming.” You continued.

Remus looked from you back to Avery who was now smirking at him. If Remus left now, Avery would tell McGonagall what Remus did; if Remus stayed, he could tell McGonagall what Avery had said.

“He won’t say anything.” You argued - as if you had heard Remus’ internal conundrum - causing Avery’s face to fall and both boys to whip their heads to you.

“And why the bloody hell won’t I, L/N?” Avery spat.

Your eyes moved from Remus’ to Avery’s where they took on a horrifyingly cold quality, no doubt the result of your cold and indifferent parents raising you like a proper Pureblood heir.

“Because I know where you sleep.” You spat lowly.

Remus watched as Avery fought to remain defiant, but as he heard the sound of McGonagall’s footsteps approaching, let out a frustrated groan.

“Fine. Sod off.” He barked, pushing Remus away from him roughly and stalking off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Remus angrily picked up his book bag and began stalking down the corridor in the opposite way.

His blood was boiling, the tension in his shoulders and neck was starting to give him a headache and every step he took aggravated the matter.

He turned hastily around a corner when the strap of his book bag was pulled off his shoulder.

“What?” He hissed when he turned to see you with the other end of his strap in your hand.

“This way.”

“L/N.”

“Lupin.” You countered severely, voice intoning no nonsense.

Remus allowed you to drag him by his bookbag like a dog down a seemingly abandoned corridor and into an empty classroom before you locked the doors and threw up a silencing charm.

“What are you doing?” He muttered admittedly far more petulantly than you presently deserved from him.

“Helping.” You answered simply as you began undoing your school tie.

“I’m fine.” He spat, plopping himself down roughly into a chair. 

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “And you wouldn’t have continued to punch the first arse you saw on your way back to Gryffindor, huh?” You asked as you started pulling off your top and exposing your lacy black bra. “And I may not be an expert, but you’re a long way from Gryffindor tower which means your chances of running into an arse were really rather high.”

Remus held his hands up to his face and pinches at his temples, trying to stave off the incoming migraine and the overwhelming urge to tell you to fuck off, which he knew he really didn’t want to do. 

Suddenly you were in nothing but your bra and panties, kneeling before him and fussing with his belt.

“This really isn’t necessary, L/N.” He offered without much fervour. 

“What are friends for?” You asked quietly as you pulled his belt from the loops of his trouser.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked pointedly, pausing your movements and looking up at him. You were giving him a choice; an out. Did he want to blow off some steam, or did he want to spend the rest of his day pissed off and tense?

Did he want you to stop?

“No.” He admitted.

Your eyes softened, though everything else about your face remained impassive as you undid the button and zip to his trousers and began encouraging them down his legs.

He decided to give up on his temper tantrum and assist you in the unenviable task of disrobing him and pulled you up into his lap.

“I don’t need anything.” You squeaked as he had you straddle his lap, your hair falling over your shoulders and tickling his own from your place above him.

“I’m not going to get in a fight and be a selfish lover all in the same day, L/N.” He said in faux admonishment. “Friends look after each other, yeah?”

And he’s not sure what swayed you. One moment he had you perched precariously above him as he gently nipped at your neck, and the next moment he was brutally thrusting up into you with no lack of desperation. 

“Fuckin’ hells you feel amazing.” He grunted as you mewled above him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes screwed shut causing Remus to worry momentarily.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly. You moaned in response and dropped your chin onto his shoulder.

“Hey, dove, you okay?” He asked again, pulling you from him and slowing his movements.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Lupin.” You barked before you pulled his face to yours by the ends of his hair for a searing kiss. 

He grinned somewhat maniacally into the kiss and lifted you from his lap as he stood with his cock still lodged deep within you and perched you on the edge of the desk.

“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” He taunted, pushing roughly into you from this new angle and causing you to cry out. “You like telling men what to do, dove?”

You gasped as Remus found the magic little spot he’d been searching for and he doubled down in his thrusts with renewed vigour. 

“That’s okay.” He continued, brushing a strand of hair away from your face that had gotten stuck in some of your lipgloss. “I like being told what to do.”

“Please! Please, please please.” You whined, a pretty sheen of sweat dusted your skin and began to pool on the divot of your collarbone. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.”

“Working on it.”

You were apparently coherent enough to laugh at that which was torture for Remus who was currently hanging on by a fucking thread as your giggles caused your cunt to clench torturously around his cock.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me, yeah? You’re close; I can tell. Cum for me.” He started chanting, moving his hand that was currently holding your knee up near his ribs to rub circles around your clit.

“Cum for me, L/N.”

“Oh fuck.” You shouted as your orgasm tore through you; Remus felt almost sick from the effort not to follow you over the edge immediately, wanting to help you ride out yours to fruition, but your walls pulsating around him left him very little control over the matter.

“Fuck.” Remus growled, and unfortunately that was the only warning you got before slammed into you once more, twice more, and was then spilling inside you causing your cunt to grow impossibly more wet and warm.

You let out a desperate breath and fell forward into Remus’ chest; he was ashamed to admit how much he relished in the intimacy - ignoring the very intimate act that had already taken place. 

“Fuck Lupin, you’re an animal.” You breathed out with a laugh.

Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter as he looked down at you.

“You have no idea.”

And if it wasn’t any of those, perhaps it was a few weeks later, when Remus saw a regal looking owl fly into the Great Hall over the Slytherin table, and with a grand war cry dropped an important looking letter in front of you, causing the rest of your table to fall silent. 

Remus watched as Regulus Black’s jaw tightened and Barty Crouch Junior’s spoon fell back into his porridge as they watched you open it.

Remus watched as all colour seemed to drain from your face and your jaw fell slack, though not open.

The rest of the Hall seemed completely unaware of the turmoil taking place over at the Slytherin table; everyone but Remus and, apparently, Sirius Black. 

“Shit.” Sirius whispered under his breath quietly, alerting neither Peter nor James who were currently in a heated debate about whether pumpkin pasties or sugar quills were the better treat from Honeydukes.

“What is it?” Remus asked him quietly. Sirius seemed nearly surprised that Remus had noticed, though schooled his expression quickly.

“Marriage announcement, she’s been betrothed.” He sneered the word, his nose actually wrinkling in disgust. “‘Sold off’ is a more appropriate term. It’s too bad, I quite liked her.”

Remus didn’t really like the feeling that settled in his stomach when he considered you being married off, but he didn’t have time to think on it too hard before he watched you storm over to Avery, Mulciber, and Snape before grabbing the former by the nape of his neck and slamming his head down into the table.

Remus was up and over to you in an instant with Sirius close behind, beaten only by Barty and Regulus who had the advantage of proximity.

“You miserable fucking wanker! You’ll fucking rot for this!” You screamed as Regulus fought and nearly lost in his battle of holding you back as Barty began sparring with your newfound enemy.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Avery! You watch your fucking back!” You screeched. Regulus - for what reason, Remus couldn’t know - thought now a good moment to put you down, and as you launched yourself once again for what he was sure was Avery’s jugular, Remus threw you over his shoulder and took off out of the Great Hall.

“Put me down!” You shouted.

“No.” 

“Fuck off, Lupin.” You cried, grabbing at his jumper and slamming your fists into his lower back as he took the stairs two at a time. 

“You’re fine, L/N.”

You squealed and began kicking your legs out, causing him to use both arms to pin them to his torso.

“Stop it.”

“Put me down!”

“Stop it. Stop fighting me.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fine.” He said, though it felt anything but. But he knew, you weren’t really mad at him, you perhaps weren’t even really mad at Avery.

“I hate you.” You said quietly this time.

“That’s alright.”

You had given up on your fight by the time Remus got to his destination. He was sure his shoulder in your stomach was causing you issues and the blood had to have been rushing to your head, but you remained placid as he hoisted you back up right and set you down on the floor of the Astronomy tower. 

Your face was wet and your hair was a mess as you took gasping breaths. 

This was beyond Remus’ wheelhouse when it came to you; he was good for eating you out, blowing off some steam, quickies, and the odd toke or two, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise. 

He decided to sit down beside you - both your backs pressed against the cold stone of the castle in a way he was sure felt good against your skin that was sizzling and crackling with fury. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say, nothing that he could say, and nothing he’d really know to say at a moment like this. Perhaps he should have left you to your friends; to the Purebloods who got it. Though, Regulus seemed willing to let you help Barty kill Avery, so perhaps it was better that you were up here with him instead. 

That's what he’d tell himself for now.

It could have been minutes or even an hour before you finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Remus asked quietly.

“Stop me.”

“You stopped me first.”

You let that sit in the air as you looked out into the horizon. 

“What do you need, L/N? What… what can I do?” He begged desperately.

Remus was certain the entire school could hear the sound of his heart breaking at the devastated expression that graced your face when you turned to make eye contact with him; your eyes seemed to beg Remus for something but he couldn’t decipher what it was that you were asking of him.

“I want to…to forget.” You sobbed. “I want to not think, I want to turn it all off for a fucking, god’s damned minute. I want it all to stop.”

“Okay.” He offered readily.

“I want it to stop.”

“Okay.” He repeated, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m right here.” He encouraged you. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to forget.”

“Okay.” Remus said again, pulling at your hand and encouraging you into his lap. “I’m right here; take what you need.”

And Remus wasn’t sure what went through your mind as you searched between his hazel eyes. One moment you were carefully perched above him in his lap; tear tracks staining your cheeks and eyes full of sorrow. And in the next moment, your uniform skirt was hiked up and panties pulled to the side, and Remus’ belt was undone and his trousers were pulled low around his thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock like it was the solution to all of life's problems.

Remus wished it were true, he really did. But if all he could do at this moment was help you turn your brain off and forget the unpleasantness waiting for you back in the castle for just a little bit, then that’s what he would do. 

You had your face shoved into his neck and he was quite sure you were biting down on the junction between his shoulder and his neck - in an attempt to quell your moans, your crying, or just out of frustration, Remus didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care either way. You grinded down onto him and he felt you applying pressure to your clit against his pelvic bone, prompting him to start rubbing it with his thumb. 

“You can let go, gorgeous. No one’s here.” He whispered.

You bit down harder in response and began riding him with an air of desperation. 

“I’m right here.”

And then he felt it. First, he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder, then he felt your teeth break his skin, and finally he felt your walls clench around him.

You stayed latched onto him; your arms around his waist, your hands clenched into the fabric of his jumper, your teeth on his skin and your cunt on his cock as he thrusted up into you and found his own release with very little effort on account of the aftershocks still shuddering through you. 

You sat like that for some time afterwards; the gentle breeze causing goosebumps to cover each of you as the sweat began to cool on your skin, and Remus rubbed circles into your bare thighs with his thumbs.

Unfortunately - for reasons Remus wasn’t willing to ponder on at present - you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips to the place on Remus’ neck he was sure now adorned the shape of your teeth.

“Sorry.” You rasped, running a hand over the newest of many wounds now decorating his skin. He didn’t want you to be sorry, though, he thought perhaps this might be his favourite one; it wasn’t the result of some hideous monster who took out its rage on him, but instead marked a tender moment between him and his…friend. 

You pulled your wand to cast a healing charm over it when Remus grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

Your reddened and swollen eyes looked at him inquisitively, causing Remus to flush in embarrassment.

“Leave it, I’ve already got so many; what’s one more?” He tried to joke, though he could tell as you looked back down at the bite mark, it fell flat. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, and Remus shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, looking into Remus’ eyes imploringly, as if trying to convey your gratitude through your very soul. “For stopping me.”

This moment suddenly felt too charged for Remus; it was different somehow, something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what.

Not then, at least.

“That’s what friends do.” He said noncommittally. “It was an I.O.U.”

He managed to force a small smile out of you for that, and he was grateful. 

So perhaps it was all of those together, in addition to the many blowjobs, many quickies, many quiet, loud, rough, or awkward fucks the two of you had in between.

But maybe…

Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room when Barty or Pandora said something particularly outlandish or funny; your laughter echoing through the halls like an invitation to experience a secret joy that only you and your friends knew about.

Or maybe it was the way you seemed to be the only one who could weasel a smile, a laugh, or a fond eye roll out of the notoriously cold and apathetic Regulus.

Or maybe it was how a dimple in your left cheek only appeared when you were particularly proud of an achievement you made or a grade you received. 

Or maybe it was the kind way you sheltered the younger Slytherin’s from the brunt of the Marauder’s pranks without impeding their more good natured ones.

Or maybe it was the way you hexed McLaggen for hitting on Lily Evans, and then again for calling her a filthy Mudblood when she refused his advancements.

Or maybe it was the way that you could always tell when Remus was feeling sad or low and needed help, needed something, needed you.

And fuck.

He needed you.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure how this thing started for him.

One moment you were on your hands and knees in his bed and he was fucking into you from behind; his body curled around yours as he rubbed at your clit expertly to push you over that edge for the third time tonight. And the next moment you were spread out and pliant beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he lazily pushed into you.

He didn’t often get moments like this; moments to just sit and admire you. 

This thing he had with you, it was delicate, precarious. It was precious. And he wasn’t going to go fucking it up by forcing it to be something it wasn’t.

You were friends.

You were friends who helped each other.

You were friends who have seen each other naked; who have tasted each other’s sweat, skin, flesh, blood, and cum. 

You were friends who have spent time with each other, on each other, and in each other.

You were friends.

That’s what you had agreed to, that was the arrangement, that was all this was supposed to be.

And then Remus’ stupid sodding heart had to go and fucking yearn for you.

It ached to sit beside you in the library without it being a precursor for one of you to be on your knees in the stacks moments later. 

It ached to ask you about your day for the sole purpose of getting to hear about it and not just as a means to help you take your mind off it by bending you over in an empty classroom. 

It ached to watch you, uninhibited throughout the day, without it causing grief, or angst, or hungry looks being exchanged. 

It ached to taste your lips without tasting the leftover sex from previous actions. 

It ached for you to climb into the shower with him after this, to throw on one of his ratty old band tees, and to stay.

It ached for you to stay.

He wanted you to stay.

But you guys were friends.

And that was enough, it had to be enough. He would make it be enough. 

So sue him; sue him for taking this extra moment to admire your form below him, when you were only his in this moment. Sue him for memorising the way your hair pooled around your head like a halo even after all the tugging and ruffling that it has been subjected to. Sue him for watching the way your breasts bounced with each gentle thrust of his hips, the way your ribs expanded and contracted with each breath, the way the two of you fit so perfectly together; your body accepting him with grace and ease as he slotted the two of you together over and over and over again.

He ached for you.

And damn him - damn him and his bleeding heart and this beautiful girl beneath him - he reached out to pull a strand of hair that laid plastered to the side of your sweaty face.

He didn’t just ache for you.

He yearned for you.

He loved you.

He was in love with you.

And Godric only knows how far gone he was or for how long now. But it didn’t matter; none of it mattered. All that mattered was this ethereal being that, for just this moment, was all his. 

He doesn’t know how long your eyes had been returning his gaze. He supposed it didn’t matter, because he knew; he knew it was written all over his face. 

He may as well have been flashing a neon sign on his forehead: “My name is Remus, and I’m wildly in love with you”. And if the sign hadn’t been enough, he was sure his actions were.

There was no longer any desperation in his actions; no destination in mind as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in again. His hands weren’t placed in precise locations to elicit a specific reaction of any sort, but rather roved languidly over your body in meticulous worship. 

And if that hadn’t been enough, he was sure that the way you were staring deep into his eyes, into his soul; you saw. You knew.

The jig was up.

He had been outed. 

Your eyes widened minutely and began to flit around Remus’ face as your grip on his arms stationed on either side of your body loosened. 

You knew.

Though it was all for naught at this point, Remus scrunched his eyes closed as if he could save any of his remaining dignity; not that there was much left.

This was it, it was all going to be over.

He lowered himself over your body and pressed his face into your neck, hiding like the coward he was as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Gently, tentatively, he felt you press a cautious hand between his shoulder blades and another to the nape of his neck. 

Somehow, the tenderness in your touch hurt more. 

He came with a strangled cry, feeling humiliating tears fall from his eyes as he filled you up for what he was certain would be the last time.

He melted into your hold and cried silently into your shoulder, and you let him.

Your hand that was stationed between his shoulder blades never moved, but your hand in his hair kneaded gentle, soothing circles into his scalp.

He wanted you to stop; he wanted you to stop because this was all he really wanted... to be here, with you, like this.

He wanted the rough and the fun and the biting and the hair pulling, sure. But he wanted the gentle, the soft, the affection, and the innocent intimacy, too. 

That wasn’t fair though; it wasn’t fair to you. You never asked for it, and you never offered it.

You never asked for it.

You never offered it.

He decided that he’d been hiding in your neck for far longer than he had any right to, and slowly pulled his face away from its sanctuary. 

He looked up at you through his curls in shame to see you had tear tracks down your cheeks too.

What a fucking mess.

He was a fucking mess; and he’d dragged you down into it.

He slowly pulled out of you and summoned a tissue to clean up the cum leaking from your folds. You hissed at the sensation and he whispered an apology before pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and throwing you a t-shirt that he hoped to fucking God was clean, and sat on the edge of James’ bed; facing you, though his head was bowed in shame.

“I’m sorry.” He offered pathetically, knowing it was not even close to helpful in this situation.

“When…” You started, voice both gravely from the sex and tight with emotions as new tears fell. “When did this happen?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t know. He couldn't say.

“When,” you tried again. “When did this change?”

Your face fell into your hands as you began to cry in earnest.

He wondered what part of this upset you the most; the loss of this friend that you had in him? The pressure to offer him more than you were willing to give? The feeling of guilt over not being able to return his feelings?

You didn’t seem to be waiting for an actual answer from him, but were rather voicing the thoughts running through your head as they came to you.

“I should go.” He whispered, even though this was his room, even though you were wearing his shirt.

“Don’t.” You demanded harshly, eyes blazing with a fire he never imagined ever being shot at him. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this; not after that.”

He nodded quickly, sitting back down on James’ bed as you wiped angrily at your face.

He wished you wouldn’t; he wished you’d be more gentle.

He didn’t get to wish things like that, though.

“When, when did this become love?” You asked in a mixture of shock and bemusement; the thought of an equation you couldn’t solve was clearly insulting to you. 

Remus shook his head in disgrace. “I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.

You scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry for what, exactly? Making me fall in love with you? Making me fall in love with you and not telling me about it?”

“You... too?” He rasped, looking at you with a slack jaw.

“Fuck.” You seethed, standing up and beginning to pace the dorm room for a few moments as you seemed to think back on the entire duration of this situation.

“When!?” You demanded again after a few moments.

“I don’t know.” He admitted honestly, placatingly.

“Fuck.” You paused in place, bringing your hands to your mouth. Remus hated it, but you paused right in front of the hearth, causing your form to be illuminated by an ethereal glow. He thought you looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” He said, for daring to even think such a thing.

But, maybe…maybe if you loved him too, he could think such things?

“Fuck.” You said again, still staring unseeingly at the wall of his dorm as you stood in nothing but an oversized shirt in the middle of the room.

“What-” Remus started, taking a cautious step towards you as if you were a wild animal poised to run at any given moment. “What do you want, Y/N?”

Not one muscle in your body moved save for your eyes as they shot over to him.

“Anything.” He whispered.

I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want. Say it and I’m yours. I’m yours.

I’m already all yours.

“I need to pee.” You said plainly.

Remus’ chest deflated in relief that you weren’t asking him to obliviate this memory from your mind.

“And then…” You took a shuddering breath that made Remus want to fold you up and keep you safe in his breast pocket for the rest of his life. “And then I want to talk. About this, okay? Please?”

Remus nodded quickly, readily, so unbelievably willingly.

“Don’t leave, please. Please be here when I get back.” You whispered; eyes, voice, and body language far more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing from you (and ever cared to see from you again).

“Always.”

And he kept that promise.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus x reader #the marauders #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #elle does smut? #elle does smut #smut #mdni #18+ content #fem!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #ellecdc fics

[bettyfrommars]

Handcuffs & Crab Rangoon

(also known as How I Met Your Mother)

playgirl!Eddie x Reader

By Request! From this ask, directly inspired by this delicious artwork by @sporelium (run don't walk if you haven't seen it yet) but also inspired by the 1995 Peter Steele Playgirl cover. Peter notoriously kept his joystick hard for most of the 6-7 hour shoot because he thought readers of the magazine would enjoy it more than if it were flaccid (I'm fine either way, but damn, thanks baby). wc: 4.3k

18+Only, mature content, smut, rockstar!Eddie, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, reader wears overalls, pet names, fingering, mention of Eddie's scars, accidental edging, sex on the job, sneaky sex, she/her is used once, no y/n, reader is a tough cookie, but Eddie is magic. It is the mid-90's.

Playgirl!eddie afterthoughts

---------

You’d been helping out a photographer for risqué magazine shoots as an assistant for almost 5 months now.  It was the fourth job you had just to keep yourself afloat while trying to live an independent life in LA. To make it in show business you had to be extremely talented, drop dead gorgeous, backed by generational wealth, or just plain lucky, and you were none of those.  So, you broke your back to make ends meet while taking night classes and working on the script you were writing with two other friends.

The studio loft on the second floor was an expansive space with windows overlooking the industrial district all along the wall.  Sasha, the photographer, stood adjusting her camera on the tripod, while the makeup artist touched up the rockstar you were working with that day, and Need You Tonight by INXS played low from the radio on a nearby shelf.  

You saw him from the back first; long, dark wavy hair hanging down over the white robe he wore to protect his modesty for the time being.  You noticed that his hands were strong and calloused as they hung at his sides.  June, the makeup artist, was on a step stool to blot his nose with powder and fix the crown of his hair.  

June saw you coming and introduced you, causing Eddie to turn on his heel, tightening the sash on his robe as he did.

You sucked in your bottom lip to hold back a whimper at the zing you felt when his warm hazelnut eyes met yours.  His full, soft lips parted in greeting, a long strand from his bangs bouncing on his eyelash, his gaze rolling over you from head to foot indulgently.

Of course, you’d heard of rock star Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin. At one of your other jobs, a girl you worked with had his magazine cutouts taped to the inside of her locker.  Last year, he was Cher’s date to the Grammys.  He was getting ready to go on tour, and procuring tickets was all any of your friends could talk about.

But, goddamn, he was much better looking in person than any tabloid or tv show could've ever prepared you for, and the chemistry vibrating in the space between the two of you was palpable.  

“Eddie…Munson, you say?” You squinted, as if you were trying to place him, like the name sounded familiar but you didn’t know why while June fixed the back of his hair. “Football player, right?”

The tip of his tongue sipped out to wet his lips, curling one side of his mouth up in a half grin.  “I love a girl who knows her sports.”

There were a few loaded seconds there when the two of you just sank into a sexually charged stare-down, both unwilling to budge.  

Sasha called your name, snapping you out of it.  She came over to let Eddie know what your role was, and encouraged him to let you know if there was anything you could do to help him relax.  She finished explaining a few things to him while you brought over a glass of lemon water.  

Sasha walked away and he took a sip, keeping his eyes on you over the glass, smirking.

“What?” you mirrored the smirk.  “This will be such an easy job for me because I know you rockstars don’t have any problem taking your cocks out and being admired in public.”

“Oh, you know me, huh?” He challenged.

You worked your jaw, pussy clenching, wondering what he looked like out of his robe.  “You’re all the same, aren’t you? Arrogant, over-sexed, and too pretty for your own good.”

“Well, you got me on the pretty part,” he winked.  “But nah, I’m not a rockstar.  I’m just a small-town freak who got lucky and, this has all been fucking overwhelming to tell you the truth.”  Eddie was tall, with broad shoulders, and your mouth dried up a little at the tattoos on his forearms that peeked out from under the sleeve of the robe.

You took the glass from him when he was finished.  “We have the small town thing in common, at least,” you said with an incline of your head.

It was time to get started, but even as Sasha motioned him over, he paused next to you, so close that the ends of his hair grazed your shoulder.  “So, if I can’t get relaxed on my own, then that means you have to help me?”  He whispered it, but forcefully, so you could feel his warm breath on the side of your head.  You could smell the mix of spearmint and tobacco.

Keeping your eyes straight ahead, you swallowed hard as the woodsy spice of his scent hit your nostrils.  “I’ll do my best for you, Mr. Munson,” and then you dared to glance up, your breath hitching as he unfastened his robe and lowered it from his shoulders right in front of you, only a few feet away.  

You tried not to show emotion because you knew he was watching, but you closed your mouth to keep a yearning mew from escaping.  There were tattoos scattered around his defined muscles, but there were also fascinating scars like floral blooms along his neck, chest, and stomach. Your eyes ached to travel down to the V-shape that cut into his hips and the treasure below, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.  Not yet anyway.

You were just about to tell him he could keep the robe on until he was comfortable, but he threw the article of clothing over for you to catch.  “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

Half of the people Sasha photographed were too shy to take the robe off right away, and maybe Eddie would have hesitated in other circumstances, but you had a strange feeling he was doing this for you.  If Sasha wasn’t asking him to look at the camera, his eyes were always banking in your direction.  

“I think we should try the handcuffs,” Sasha said to the room, but mostly to you.  

You made your way over to where the props were, knowing that Eddie��s eyes were keeping pace, and playfully dangled the silver cuffs from your thumb and forefinger as you retrurned, wiggling your eyebrows; a gesture he was happy to return. 

“Front or behind?” You asked Sasha.

“Behind for now,” she answered.  “You okay with that Mr. Munson?”

“My god,” he chuckled, putting his hands behind his back for you to have easy access to the tender skin of his wrists.  “Call me anything but Mr. Munson.  Eddie is fine.”

You always tried to keep things very professional, but not only that—you’d been around so many naked bodies, they all started to look the same to you.  This was your job, and mostly it never even occurred to you to see the models in a lustful way..  You never let your eyes hover too long on the private parts of your clients; maybe just a glance and that was it.  But the job of fastening Eddie’s handcuffs had you taking in the firm structure of his ass like it was a visual last meal.  

You stroked your finger a few times in his palm.  “Is that too tight?” 

The combination of your touch and the way you whispered gave him chills in the best way possible and his fingers flexed, as if trying to reach out for you.  “I hope you have a key for these things,” he mumbled.

“I do,” you assured him.  “But I’m about to swallow it.”

“Hey,” he hushed over his shoulder before you could walk away.  “Should my dick be hard for this?”

You wanted to kiss his arm, you wanted to bite it.  Instead, you put your hands together and intertwined your fingers.  “Do you want it to be?”

Eddie lowered his chin, voice barely audible.  “Are you offering to help, sweetheart?

Sasha took a few more photos as he was, standing to the side, eyes flicking to where you stood behind Sasha’s shoulder.  When it was time for you to take the handcuffs off, Eddie stretched his hands, turning to face front. “No chick wants to look at a flaccid dick when they buy magazines like this,” he announced.  “Give me a second to…get ready? If you know what I mean?”

While Sasha and June went out for a smoke break, Eddie put his robe on, and headed for his private dressing room, but he paused in the door and turned to find you. His eyebrows popped up a few times,  motioned with his hand down low for you to follow him in.  You knew  you could lose your job for fornicating with Eddie during a photo shoot, but at that moment, you couldn’t have cared less.

Once you were in, Eddie closed the door and leaned back against it, his robe falling open.  He clutched a fist into the front of your overalls, pulling you closer.  Your fingertips feathered down the ridges of his scars, thumb caressing over his missing nipple, and he jutted his head forward to meet your mouth, but you were too fast, dropping to your knees to taste his cock, taking your job and his request a bit too seriously.  

“Hey wait,” he sank his hand around your throat, guiding you back up to full height.  “Kiss me first,” he brushed his lips across yours.  “And then you can kill me.”

While the tiny person in charge of your brain ran around inside your skull screaming, your  lips met his, tips of tongues introducing each other first, and then echoed moans, opening wide to take each other deeper.

“I know what will get me hard,” he told you in a breathy rush.  “Take these off,” he motioned to the overalls you were wearing.  “And sit on the counter.”

He walked forward so that you would back up, his hands supporting your waist.

You looked back at the counter top. “But we don’t have much time to—” 

“I don’t need much time,” he said, swatting a stool out of his way so it crashed to the ground.  “I want you in my mouth.”

You shivered and obeyed, unhooking your overalls, letting them fall to the floor.  You were in nothing but a tank top now, ass on the cool edge of the Formica, and he pulled your underwear down your legs, salivating and biting his lip as he did so. 

 “Fuuuuck, you are so wet,” He pushed your knees wider with his strong arms and sank his tongue into your glistening folds, flicking the nub a few times.  “Did you get this wet just for me? Hmmm?”

“Yes Eddie,” you whimpered, bracing yourself on the beige counter next to the vanity, watching him drag his chin all the way up your slit, and then pull and twist his tongue down, darting it into your hole.  His eyes met yours again, his mouth latching onto your sweet spot and sucking there.  You wrapped your legs over his shoulders and sunk your heels into his back.

His fingers dug into the meat at your hips, his mouth diving deeper, sucking in while his tongue flicked. He reached a hand down between his legs and started stroking himself, getting more and more turned at the way you were gasping and twitching.

You grabbed the top of his head.  “Fuckkk Eddie fuck just like that.”

His eyes were closed now while he devoured you, but the look on his face spoke of how seriously he took the task, rolling his tongue and working you in a way that made your eyelids flutter and a choke catch in your throat.

But then there came a knock at the door.  

It was Sasha, and thank god she didn’t try the doorknob because you hadn’t locked it in your frenzy to get on Eddie’s joystick.  . 

“Coming!” You shouted nervously, dropping to your feet, stepping into your underwear and then your overalls.  

Eddie sucked in his bottom lip, licking what was left of you from his mouth.  He caught your elbow as you were fastening the second clip.  “Can we finish this later?”

The way he asked it was almost shy, as if his face hadn’t just been between your thighs.  Meanwhile, your engorged pussy was soaking your underwear, begging to be finished.  You saw that his chin was still wet from your arousal and whisked some of it away with your thumb.

He bent to let his lips graze at your ear as he closed his robe. “I like the way you taste.”

Back out on the floor, you let Sasha know that Eddie was talking your ear off about something, but that he would be out any second.  Sasha and June exchanged a look, mostly in regards to the way the straps of your overalls were all twisted and buttoned wrong, but neither one of them addressed it.

When Eddie came out and took his robe off again, he was hard, rolling his big hand around the head a few more times as he got on the prop bed that was there for the next set.  There was a model named Cindy in lingerie there to be in the shots with him, and you felt a jealousy rise in you that didn’t make any sense.  It rose so hot in your gut while their mouths hovered inches apart, pretending they were about to kiss, that you had to look away.  Every so often, he’d glance over at you while he had his cock in his hand, determined to keep the beast hard, and you wondered if he was thinking about having his tongue inside of you.

Because, you were definitely thinking about it.  You took a little private time around the corner just to touch yourself through your denim, working your fingers at your core, wondering if you should just finish yourself off and be done with it just as Sasha finally called for another smoke break.

You tried not to be too obvious, casually strolling back to Eddie’s dressing room, making sure the model Cindy was comfortable and fetching her the sparkling water she asked for while Love Bites by Judas Priest played on the radio.

Eddie was already in there waiting, yanking you inside by the wrist so he could lock the door, planting hot, hungry kisses down along your neck. 

You dropped your overalls like they were on fire, caressing his hard length in a way that made him moan. “I need you so fucking bad,” you breathed, pulling your tank top up and over your head so that you could be flush with his skin, to feel the ridges of his scars.  “That last set was almost two hours,” you were still talking as he backed you further into the room.  “How is your cock still hard?”

His fingers slipped down through your folds and he hissed at the way you were dripping.  “Just the thought of this, sweetheart.”

There was a floral couch against the wall and when your calves met with it, you plopped down into the cushion and Eddie followed, knees to the wood floor, wrapping his arm around your thighs to take your sweet bud into his mouth again, teasing it with his nose first.

“Fuck fuck Eddie, I’m already so close,” you took a fistful of his beautiful hair, careful not to mess it up too bad and bucked against his mouth.  “You’re so good, I love it when your tongue fucks me.”

Your hole was clenching around nothing, needing more, and that was when two of his fingers slid in, the ones with the chunky metal rings, they stretched you out suddenly, making you curse with pleasure.  Eddie zig-zagged his tongue rapid fire over  your clit, groaning at the way your hole gripped his fingers.  His cock was leaking pre-cum and he thrust his hips into the couch as he felt your walls begin to ripple.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum…so hard….” the orgasm seemed to snap your body in two, pulsing a waves of pleasure up your spine, making your mouth freeze open on a sharp inhale.  And then you were babbling, “cummincumming so hard, Eddie!”

“Turn over,” he demanded in a deep voice once you were able to catch your breath.  “I need to clean you up.”.

And so you got on your knees facing the wall and held onto the back of the couch, trembling at the way he spread your cheeks and lapped you up all along your drenched slit.

“We’re ready if you are!” Sasha called from out in the studio making you spin around.

“Oh shit,” you breathed, looking down at how swollen and ready his cock was.  “I can’t leave you like this.”

“I can wait, sweetheart,” he mumbled, standing to pull his robe back on and offer you his hand, tossing his hair back over his shoulder.

By the time the photo shoot was over, Eddie would’ve been edging his release for over 4 hours, and he didn’t seem phased at all about it.

It was time for the handcuffs again.  Eddie wanted a cigarette, and Sasha encouraged him to have it in a seat by the window and she’d get a few shots of him there.  He held his wrists close together in front of him while you secured the cool metal, his chocolate orbs fixed on your face.  He liked how your fingers quivered as you cuffed him, and his erection had finally softened enough to not be obnoxious, but it was still making your mouth dry up with desire.

He wanted to light the cigarette himself, so you passed him the lighter.  He spread his legs, hitching one heel up on the leg of the chair, exposing the patch of hair at the base of his cock and around his balls 

“That’s perfect,” Sasha told him, finger tapping on the shutter button, producing a blast of fast clicks..  

You glanced up at the clock, knowing your time with Eddie would be over soon.  Cindy the model could’ve gone home, but she’d decided to stay and wait to watch the rest of Eddie’s shoot, her eyes sparkling with lust.  Maybe she would be the one to get Eddie off and not you.  She was physically more what you assumed his “type” would be since, in your mind, all rock stars were the same.

You didn’t have to wonder for long which woman he’d rather fuck, because he was eyeballing you from across the room as he put his robe on and said a few last words to Sasha.  The dressing room door was hidden around the corner and down the hall, but you decided not to follow him straight in like you had the last two times; your carnal needs were making you sloppy.  This time, you went out into the stairwell to the back entrance and knocked, hoping he would get the hint because it only opened from the inside.  Eddie pushed it open with a hard metal clank, and then your hands were in his hair, and wordlessly the two of you fell into each other.  He was doing the work of unfastening your overalls while you were coherent enough to ask about condoms and he presented a string of them out of the pocket of his robe.

“You came prepared,” you stumbled over your clothes, yanking your shirt off as you went.

“Nah,” Eddie cocked his head.  “I had my gofer bring me these.  The guy is quick.” 

“How do you want me?” You kissed down his chest, flicking his one salty nipple with your tongue, making him groan.

He ripped one of the condoms off the pack and tore it open with his teeth, and then spat the paper edge out.  “I need to be able to see your face,” he crashed his nose against yours diving in for another kiss.

“Sit,” you told him, urging him back into the wooden chair in the corner of the room.  It was right next to a full length mirror so he could watch you fuck him from the side if he wanted to. There were no arms on the chair, and he complied, licking his lips, eager for whatever you had in mind while he rolled the condom on.

You kicked  your leg over him like you were mounting your motorcycle and sat your hungry, soaking hole down on the tip of his cock.  Eddie took hold of your hips and guided you down, releasing one long moan as you went.  You whined, coming down flush with his lap, his cock stretching you out in a way no one ever had before, settling yourself first before you began to move.  You pushed up from the balls of your feet, riding him, and Eddie clamped a hand onto each of your ass cheeks, creating a rhythm, using his strong arms to help lift and lower you.

Your foreheads came together as you moved, hard nipples grazing his chest. You watched him grit his teeth and gasp.  “Damn, you’re so tight.  I’m close, I’m so fucking…close,” he bit out.  

Your clit rubbed against his patch of hair as you worked, and it wasn’t long before you began to hiccup with the contraction of your own release.  Never in your life had you cum this soon and this close together.  “You’re gonna make me cum again, oh my god.”

“Yeah?” He pulled his head back.  “Look at me.”

You met his eyes as you bounced, his hips snapping up to meet you every time you bottomed out.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, finding the yearning in his stare too much to handle.  “Like, right now, right…fuck, Eddie I’m cumming!” Your head dropped to his shoulder while the tremors rolled through you, walls squeezing his cock, making his toes curl and his hips jerk erratically, the chair legs squeaking from his weight.

He held you flush to him, his release hot and plentiful; so much so, he might’ve worried about the integrity of the condom if he hadn’t been so pussy drunk on the way your hole was still clenching him like a fist.  You locked your chest to his and he caged you with his arms, locking you there.

Your knees threatened to turn to butter and betray you as you dismounted the ride of your life, both of you finding the footing to scramble around and retrieve your clothes. Eddie could stay in the dressing room as long as he wanted, but you? You were only a shell of the employee you normally were that day and you feared that Sasha was probably coming to look for you at that moment, ready to tell you to take a hike.

Eddie pulled his shirt down over his head, adjusting it over his jeans and flipped his hair from out of the collar. You snapped the first buckle on your overalls and gave him a tilt of your head. “Hey stranger, I almost didn’t recognize you with clothes on,” and then you fixed yourself in the mirror quickly before planting one more kiss on him on your way to bolt for the door.

“Hey, wait,” he called out, making you turn around. “Is that it? This is goodbye?”

Eddie Munson was a beautiful rockstar. Eddie Munson was in music videos on MTV. Eddie Munson could have any woman he wanted in the world, single or taken, and so no---you hadn’t expected more to come from this. You thought maybe he had a new fuck for every day of the week and you just happened to fall into his lap at the right time when he was bored and had some time to kill.

“Did you need anything else?” You asked it in your professional assistant voice, your work voice, and put your hands in your pockets to patiently wait.

He sat down on the couch to put his Converse on, absorbed in his task as he spoke to you. “My hotel is just up the street. Are you busy tonight? We could have dinner. Anything you want, my guys will get it for us.”

“I’m busy tonight,” you lied.

“What about tomorrow?” He pushed, tying the next shoe. “I wanna hear more about this small town you grew up in. I’ve really been missing home lately.”

You softened. “I refuse to believe you are anything but a spoiled city boy.”

He stood to his full height, stretching his chest, and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, giving you a shrug and a familiar smirk. “Just think about all the ways I could prove you wrong if you came to hang out with me tonight. I might even surprise you.”

You got all awkward for a bit, fighting with yourself over why you weren’t on your knees begging for this man. Regardless of your silence, he found an old receipt for a tin of mini mart pretzels in his pocket and wrote his room number and hotel on it.

Passing it to you pinched between his two fingers, he added without meeting your gaze, “I’d really like to see you again.”

But then Sasha was calling for you, needing help with equipment, and you were scurrying out of the room with your heart in your throat.

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. “Crab Rangoon?”

Eddie scoffed. “What did you call me?” He was jutting his arms up into the sleeves of his leather jacket when you favored him a glance over you shoulder.

You swiveled to face him and made a circular gesture with your hand as if the implication was universally understood. “If there happens to be some crab Rangoon at your hotel tonight, I will stop by.”

Eddie’s face was blank, totally unreadable for a few seconds, and then a smile teased at the corners of his mouth, crept across his face, and jumped to his eyes. He gave a nod, “crab Rangoon it is then.”

---------

#playgirl!Eddie #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie munson one shot #rockstar!eddie munson #90sau #eddie munson x reader

[fallenangelkitten]

Through the Sun

Synopsis: Part two of In the Moonlight. The drive home from the gardens did nothing to stifle the need growing between you and Henry. How much more can the two of you take?

Warnings: HenryxVirginReader, sex, smut

Note: MUCH of this is taken from a scene out of one of my favorite books From Blood and Ash by J.L.A. Enjoy part two <3

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else before I go?” He asked, eyes on me as I stood in front of my bed.

The ride home from the gardens were quiet and tense- the air thick with unresolved desire. Henry had come inside my apartment with me to make sure I was okay, following me into my room, but just lingering in the frame of the open door. I had changed out of my clothing and into a loose, silk nightgown.

The evens of the night had replayed through my mind- his hands holding me, lips all over me, my own hips moving so roughly against his. Without thinking, my thighs pressed together.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” his voice had thickened, eyes scanning me. I didn’t even realize I’d left his question unanswered.

“Like what?”

“You know exactly how you’re looking at me,” he closed his eyes. “Actually, you might not. And that’s exactly why I should leave.”

“Henry… how am I looking at you?”

His eyes opened, his stare lingering on me for what seemed like forever. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave at all. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

I watched him start for the door. I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to spend the night alone. I wanted him.

“Henry?”

He stopped but didn’t turn back.

My heart began to thump in my chest, palms sweaty as my lips parted. “Will you… will you stay with me tonight?”

He didn’t respond. I wasn’t even sure if he had taken a breath. But the words finally came as his hand lingered on the door. “I want nothing more than that, believe me, but I don’t think you realize what will happen if I stay.”

I felt a little dizzy. “I think I know enough.”

He turned, his piercing stare colliding with mine. “There is no way I could be in that bed with you and not touch you. Especially after tonight- earlier. We probably wouldn’t even be able to make it to the bed. I know my limitations. I really didn’t want to overwhelm you, but I know that if I stayed tonight I wouldn’t be able to not strip that thin little gown from your frame and do exactly what I said I would by the greenhouse.”

Heat swept low through me as I stared at him. “I know,” I almost didn’t think the voice was mine.

He sucked in a sharp breath as his brows furrowed, “Do you?”

All I could do was nod and continue to keep my legs clenched.

He finally took a step away from the door. “I’m not just going to hold you, (Y/N). I won’t just stop at kissing you, I won’t even stop at letting you move against me again. My need for you is far too great.”

A chill tiptoed down my spine at the bluntness of his words. They weren’t a shock, but his undeniable need was. I couldn’t fathom myself being the object of something so fierce. Especially by him.

“I know,” I repeated. It was the only thing I knew- my want and need for him. The uncertainty of what to truly expect fluttered in my chest, but I didn’t care. I felt that newfound warmth deep in my core begin to grow as I slipped my arms through the thin straps of the gown. The silk pooled at my feet.

Henry didn’t look away from me; his restraint from earlier in the night gone like my modesty. He didn’t blink as his eyes stayed locked with mine. But as his gaze slowly trailed down the length of my body, I couldn’t help the blush that flooded my cheeks. I knew he could see every dip, swell, and curve of my body. His gaze was soaking in every inch of me. I couldn’t help but shiver when his eyes finally made their way back to mine.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” his voice was thick with desire.

Then he moved. Within a heart beat his arms were around me and his lips encased mine. There was nothing slow or sweet about the way he kissed me, not this time. He devoured me, and I wanted that. I moved my mouth against his, matching his hunger, and tightly gripping to him.

Things quickly became a blur as my heart thudded in my chest. I’m not sure how his clothes ended up on the floor, but I’m sure my hands aided in the process. I pulled back from the latch of his lips and trembled at the first sight of him. He was utterly beautiful.

I took him in with my eyes as he did to me. His sun kissed body was lean and I could see his undeniable strength without the need to witness it. Soft patches of hair coated his body. I noticed the trail long his stomach, then my gaze strayed and my eyes widened.

Oh, my.

I subconsciously but down on my lip, fighting the urge to stare. It seemed indecent to do so, but damn did I want to.

“If you keep eyeing me like that, this will be over before it has the chance to begin,” he growled.

Before I could even react, his arm was around me and he had me pressed to the bed. The rough hairs on his legs were abrasive against mine in a surprisingly pleasant way. But it was the feeling of him against my hip that caused me to swallow nervously.

Henry kissed me and I couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that it had an almost drugging effect- like he had mentioned in the gardens. He had kissed me until I’m sure he could feel my heart beating through my chest. Only then, when he left me breathless, did he really begin his assault.

His fingers trailed along by body at a painfully slow pace. He kept one arm supporting himself above me while the other started at my jaw. When he got to the swell of my breasts and the peak of my nipples, I couldn’t help but whimper. But he kept going. And when he finally got between my thighs, I cried out at the contact. What I had felt with both of our pants between us previously had been nothing compared to his skin against mine.

He worked his way down using his mouth and tongue to follow the path his hands had blazed, sucking and nibbling as he went. He flicked his tongue over my clit, causing me to cry out and make sounds that briefly made me think about the thickness of my apartment walls- the thought left as quickly as it came.

From between my legs, he looked up at me and my heart just might have stopped. Even when my back began to arch and hips involuntary buck wildly against him, he never broke eye contact. He wanted to see me, see what he did to me. The riot of sensations he pulled from me didn’t seem possible until this moment.

It was almost too much, and I couldn’t hold still from the glide of his tongue. I breathy moan escaped me as I bucked my hips again, and his rumbling growl of approval was almost as good as his assault.

My head fell back against the mattress as my fingers dug into the sheets. I was fully aware that my body was squirming around with no sense of rhythm, but I simply didn’t care. The sharp tightening deep inside of me was coiling, twisting until I thought my heart might have actually stopped. Then it all unraveled, stunning me with its intensity. I might’ve said his name, or even screamed something incoherent- I wasn’t sure. But it took an eternity before I could reopen my eyes.

Henry lifted his head, lips swollen and glossy with- well, with me. The intensity of his stare caught and held mine. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip, making me shutter. “I could taste you all fucking day,” he growled, making my breath catch in my throat.

He didn’t move so much as he prowled up the length of my twitching body. I watched him, unable to look away as the hardness of his body caressed mine, unable to stop the shiver when the rough hair of his legs and chest tickled my skin.

“(Y/N),“ he breathed, his lips touching mine. He kissed me, and my face heated with a blush when I tasted his mouth, the taste of me on his tongue. My senses whirled at the feeling of him settling between my legs, pushing them open with his thick thighs, only barely pressing against me. “Open your eyes.”

They had closed? Yes. They had. I opened them to see his ever present cocky smirk plastered to his face. He said nothing as he stared down at me, hips and body still. “What?” I asked.

“I want your eyes open,” he demanded.

“O-Okay, why?”

“Because I want you to touch me,” he explained. “And I want you to see what your touch does to me.”

A shiver made its way along my spine for the thousandth time tonight. “How… h-how do you want me to touch you?”

“Any way you see fit,” his voice was thick and deep, even at the whisper he spoke in now. “You couldn’t do it wrong.”

Uncurling my fingers from the sheets, I lifted a hand and lightly grazed his cheek. His eyes remained latched to mine as I trailed my fingers along the curve of his jaw, over his soft lips, and then down to his throat. I glided the tips of my fingers over his chest, his deep breaths pushing it against my hand. I kept exploring, soaking in the feeling of the taught muscles in his lower stomach, the patch of hair below his navel, then lower. My fingers brushed the hardness of his length, making his entire body jerk. I hesitated, not wanting to mess this up.

“Please, don’t stop,” he rasped, jaw clenched as his fingers stilled below my breasts, the tops of his hands brushing them. “Dear god, do not stop.”

His jaw clenched and his lips parted slightly. The lines of his face became sharper and the muscles in his neck flexed as I curled my hand around him. His large, powerful body trembled. I noticed how rapid his breathing had become as I slid my hand down to where our bodies were almost joined. He twitched, and I was awed by how much my touch affected him.

I tightened my grip as confidence fell through me. “Fuck,” he growled.

“Is this okay?” I asked, brows furrowed in concern. But even then. My arousal pooled between us.

“Anything you do is more than okay,” his voice has deepened even more. “But especially that.”

A giggle left me, but then I did it again, shifting my hand up and down him. His hips moved then, much like mine had, rolling against my palm. He made a sound, a deep, dark rumble that caused me to emptily clench around nothing.

“Do you see what your touch does to me?” He asked, his hips following my hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“It kills me,” his head dropped, his thick lashes shielding his ocean eyes.

My gaze searched his face. “I-In a good way?”

Henry’s features softened has his hand rose to cup my cheek. “In a way I could only ever feel with you.”

“Oh.”

He dipped his head, kissing me as he shifted onto his left arm. His hand left my cheek and slid down the length of my body until it landed between us. “Are you ready?”

Breath catching, I nodded.

The corners of his lips tugged up into that smirk I knew all too well. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Please, Henry.”

“Good, because I might have actually died if you weren’t.”

I giggled, surprised that such a light sound came from such a tense, important moment.

“You think I’m kidding… little do you know,” he teased. He kissed me again before barely pushing in. He made that animalistic sound again, only fueling my desire. “I’m really sorry if it hurts at first,” he practically panted.

I knew enough about sex to know that was a possibility. “It’s okay, just please keep going,” I begged as he showered me with kisses.

A groan emerged from his chest as he began to move. There was pressure and a moment where I wasn’t sure he could go any farther, and then a sudden, sharp sting stole my breath as I squeezed my eyes shut. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He stroked my face with one of his fingers, cooing in my ear. “I’m sorry,” he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assured, but the words came out like a sharp breath.

He kissed me again, softly, and rested his forehead against mine. A shallow breath lifted my chest. I tried to take a deeper breath, the pain lessening as I released it. Henry remained still above me, letting his hand stroke my hair. Tentatively, I lifted my hips against his. It stung, but not as badly as before. I lifted my hips again, and he shuttered, but remained still. He didn’t move until my grip on his shoulders lessened and my breath caught for an entirely different reason. There was a burning friction, but it wasn’t the same. Muscles low in my stomach tightened as a ripple of pleasure shot through me.

I curled my arms around his neck as I let myself get lost in his movements- in the building crescendo of sensations. Some kind of primal instinct took hold, guiding my hips to follow his. We were moving together; the only sounds were his deep growls, my whimpers and moans, and the sound of us colliding.

That exquisite, almost painful coiling sensation returned. My legs moved to wrap around his hips. The pressure was building inside me once more, but it was much more potent than before.

Henry worked his arm under my head and curled his hand around my shoulder as the grip of his other hand tightened on my hip. He began to move with a vengeance, his hips moving faster and deeper into me as he held me in place. My mouth blindly found his as his hand slipped between us. His thumb found the sensitive area that his tongue assaulted earlier, and when his hips churned against mine in tight circles, the tension exploded from inside of me.

I cried out, the sensation more intense and biting than before. The release he had given me earlier somehow felt like nothing compared to this. I was shattered into pieces in the best way possible, and it was only when the last wave seemed to have crested that I became aware of those intense blue eyes fixed on my face as he slipped his hand out from under me. I knew at once that he had been watching me the entire time, causing a breathy moan to drift from my lips.

I placed a trembling hand on his cheek. “Henry,” I whispered, unsure what was even going to leave my mouth before he seemed to lose whatever control he had left.

His body pounded against mine, moving us across the bed. Under my hands, his muscles flexed and rolled, and then his head kicked back and he cried out, shuttering. He dropped his head to my neck, to the sensitive place along the side of my throat. I felt his lips against my thumping pulse as the roll of his hips slowed. There was the scrape of his teeth that sent a shiver through me, and then the press of his lips against my neck.

I wasn’t sure how long we laid there, bodies tangled together. But I fell asleep… a deep, dreamless sleep.

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x Virgin!reader

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #06)

FEB06: Acts of Devotion

You awoke the next morning to a loud banging outside your window. It was early enough that your alarm still hadn’t gone off. At first, you were scared, but when you glanced outside and saw the broad, strong back of your handsome neighbor, you were pleasantly surprised.

John was wearing suede working gloves with no shirt, wielding a hammer, and building something against the shared wall of your apartments. You slid the door ajar and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to preserve what little modesty you had left for this man. 

“John?”

“Oh, sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he smiled and began to affix another piece of wood to his creation. 

“What is this?”

“You were talkin’ about your tomatoes,” he said, not pausing his work, “Needin’ a trellis, innit that right?”

“Wow,” you took another look at his work and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. You needed him to hear your gratitude, “John, this is so kind of you. Thank you.”

He towered over you on the porch, and you realized how close you had been standing to him. John was looking down into your face, taking in your words, wrapping them up in his mind and saving them for later. 

He took a gloved hand and tilted your chin up just a bit, as if he might kiss you. You spent ages there, locked in his gaze, breathing the same air, feeling the wind on your cheek and his strong finger on your jaw. But, at the last moment, he turned away, going back to his work. 

You spent the better part of the day working. There were two students who really needed support, and you wanted to do your best for them. You were worn out, and as the afternoon faded away to the evening time, you’d forgotten that you had promised you’d make dinner tonight for John. It was a Wednesday, and those were always your days for dinner. 

When he showed up with a whiskey and a wine, you nearly burst into tears. You held it together, but barely. 

“John, today was an absolute shit show. I haven’t even had time to breathe, much less do dinner. And after you built my trellis for me; I feel terrible for letting you down. Can you please forgive me?”

“Don’t worry, love. I saw you workin’ while I was cleanin’ up outside, and I called Antonio’s an hour ago. Check the bag.”

He set all of his gifts down on your counter for you to inspect. You peered inside and saw what he had done. 

“Oh, my God,” you opened the bag he’d brought and there were two warm pasta carbonara dishes waiting for you. Breadsticks included. “John, you didn’t.”

“You’re busy savin’ the world, love. Feels good to be able to do somethin’ nice for you, if you’ll let me. I know I’m your neighbor, and I know that makes things complicated… but, I like you. And I like spending my time on you. Is that alright?”

You stepped into his space, just as you’d been standing on the porch, and you felt his heavy hands wrap around your waist, cradling you in his strong arms. Then, he cupped your cheek with a warm palm, holding your face up to his. His voice was a ragged whisper,

“If it’s not alright, you’ve gotta tell me now. ‘Cause I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, crashing your lips against his. You felt him react almost immediately, smiling against your mouth, kissing you back. You felt his tongue slide against yours, opening you up to him, tasting you and holding you tightly. 

He only pulled away when you did. Smiling with you, and laughing a bit to himself,

“Bloody hell, I’ve been waiting for that, love.”

“Me, too,” you confessed. 

You were determined to show John how you truly felt about him, so the next day, you knocked on his door, packed and ready to take him on a whole slew of adventures just for him. You’d bought tickets to the local soccer match, and you’d booked an evening at a cigar bar downtown. You’d even planned a small picnic for lunch, but when he opened the door, you felt a lump in your throat. Something wasn’t right.

He was on the phone, and he held a finger to his lips, asking you for silence as you came into his apartment. You shut the door behind you as quietly as you could and sat with him on his couch. He was answering questions in yes and no statements, and you could tell he wanted to fill you in, so you waited patiently. 

Then, he hung up, and he threw his phone down on the coffee table with a loud thud. 

“Bad news, love.”

“What is it? Are you alright?”

He took your hands in his and sighed,

“I’ll be overseas for… work. But, I’ll be back here the moment it’s done.”

“Overseas? For how long?” You put your hands on his cheeks, studying his blue eyes for some answers.

He smiled, but it was a sad one,

“A while.”

When he kissed you this time, it felt like goodbye, and you prayed that it wasn’t.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

[shiggybrainr0t]

the symbol of peace just saw my panties?!

warnings: one creep, reader wears panties but is otherwise gn, not really edited very well probably

you’re standing in your underwear and a big T-shirt outside you’re apartment building in the middle of December with every single other person that lives in the building.

you were rudely awakened by the fire alarm going off in the building loudly, and after jumping five feet in the air and realizing that no, you didn’t dream it, you jump up to start pulling on pants. soon after however, you heard the night clerk pounding on doors telling everyone to evacuate quickly because there was a fire on the fifth floor. you got tangled in the left leg, and were hopping around before the clerk got to your door. his urgency spurred you on out the door, barely having the mind to put your slippers on as you fled. so here you are, pantless, shifting from leg to leg in what you used to deem your pajamas.

your arms are crossed tightly across your chest, trying to keep what little modesty you had left. it seems you weren’t doing that great of a job as the creepy guy from 4B was leering at you openly.

you were just about to yell at him-what were you going to say? probably a slur of curse words and how you could kick his ass even in your panties- when a thick blanket was suddenly draped around you and large, scarred hands where on your shoulders.

turning around quickly, you were shocked to see the symbol of peace smiling down at you gently. deku was clad in his hero suit, and was big. like, really big. you had only ever seen him on tv, so you never realized just how big he actually was. you don’t know how the boy you watched on television during his first sports festival became this hunk of a man. he also smelled really good. kind of woodsy, and all cozy home baked cookies in a cute tin.

as you were gawking at him, mouth hanging open a little, deku shifted a little to block you from the 4B creep’s line of sight. he pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, and gave you another smile as he patted your shoulders gently.

“are you alright?”

his voice was smooth, and soft. not too deep but not high pitched either. you think to yourself that anyone would be calmed whenever he was talking to them. you always had thought he had a nice voice whenever you heard him in the television, but in person it was even smoother and softer. blinking out of your stupor, you nod quickly, before gasping in horror. the rising hero deku, who on the fast track at becoming number one, has seen you in your panties.

deku smiles at you again (that famous blinding smile that before tonight you had never seen in person) before stating “don’t be embarrassed! this isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone in their underwear.”

you can only blink at him in surprise, and it dawns on him what his statement implies as he looks at your expression.

“no- wait not like that, well I mean-“

he stops his stumbling whenever you have to muffle your laughter. his grin turns shy, and he brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“um, anyway. the fire was just a toaster, everything is fine. you should be able to go back inside soon.”

your relief is palpable, and deku gives you one last grin before waving at you and walking away. you watch as he approaches 4B creep, the guy’s eyes widening drastically at whatever look deku gives him, and swings his arm around 4B’s shoulders and starts waking towards the edge of the crowd. deku turns to look at you one last time over his shoulder, giving you a wink.

#I KNOW deku would smell amazing and all things comforting #imagine: you’re in a villain attack and you’re suddenly picked up in strong arms and are surrounded by the smell of freshly baked cookies #and a hint of evergreen trees #I wrote this years ago whenever I was on wattpad writing for bts jehsksksj #I suddenly thought of that prompt again the other day and knew deku would be an amazing fit #mat’s writing #deku x y/n #deku x reader #deku #mha deku #bnha deku #deku fanfic #deku fanfiction #izuku midoryia x you #izuku fanfiction #izuku fanfic #izuku midoria #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero imagines #my hero academia headcanons #my hero acedamia #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fluff #deku fluff

[sarahscribbles]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑.𝟔𝐤

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧; 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧; 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You desperately try to reassure yourself that it’s a trick of the light. The Sakaarian bathroom is so cavernous and so blindingly white that, for the shortest of seconds, you’re almost able to believe it.

Almost. 

But, the more you twist in front of the garishly ornate mirror, the harder it is to fight the truth that you look every inch the escort that Loki had believed you were. It’s been half an hour since you locked yourself away in the bathroom - or so you think - but in that time you’ve failed to summon even a modicum of modesty. 

Modesty. It’s one word you’re certain the Grandmaster is unfamiliar with. 

Your hair and make up - the only parts of your appearance that you have control over - are subtle and understated. You might even go so far as to say you look elegant, but the slip of bright fabric that’s supposed to be a dress makes it impossible. The golden train flowing from the back is voluminous and almost pretty, but the hem at the front barely reaches your knees and doesn’t move no matter how hard you tug. Neither does the gaping neckline budge even an inch to cover your chest. 

Hot tears of humiliation begin to prick at your eyes and you feel your lip wobble. You feel exposed, like the Grandmaster is making you parade around his planet naked. Your body is on display for him and all his sick little friends to leet at, and you know they will leer.

And because you rely on the Grandmaster’s good graces for survival - you’ve been here long enough now to hear talk of his Champion - you’ll have no choice but to let them leer. 

Not attending the soiree isn’t an option. Tonight, you’re the Grandmaster’s little whore. 

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. Countless times you had taunted and mocked Loki about being the Grandmaster’s pet, but, dressed as you are, it’s painfully obvious to anyone who looks your way tonight that you’re nothing but his toy. 

It’s that solitary thought that makes your stomach churn. What if the Grandmaster insists that you return to his rooms tonight? Loki may have gone willingly, but you’d rather die than have that man’s hands anywhere near you. 

You make one last attempt at tugging the hem of your dress. You know it isn’t going to budge, but a quiet cry of frustration leaves your lips before you can stop it. It’s nearing an hour since you locked yourself away in here; long enough, you hope, that Loki will be long gone when you emerge. It would be nothing short of humiliating for him to see you like this - dressed in little more than the Vanir whores wear in the city brothels. 

You pray and hope and pray some more that he’s long since left the Penthouse. Let anyone but him be witness to your humiliation. 

But, when you eventually do pull open the heavy door to peer out, your heart drops right to your stomach when you see him preening himself in front of the mirror. 

Vain little peacock.

His eyes flick up to catch yours in the mirror, and your lip instinctively curls in a sneer while his rises in a smirk. “My, don’t you look like quite the little whore,” he says smoothly while turning around to face you. “Should I vacate the rooms tonight? Or do you prefer to spend the night in your customers chambers?” 

He picks up his martini glass from the side in one elegant sweep, and you instantly make it shatter in his hand before he can raise it to his lips. His sharp hiss of pain is satisfying, and you feel a faint glow of pride at how the liquid has lightly stained his leather, but it does nothing to cool the hot humiliation burning through your blood. 

“It’s adorable how you think you’d be sleeping here tonight. I imagine the Grandmaster likes to play with his toys to finish off a night of revelry, and is there really any need to ask who kneels for whom?” you bite back scathingly, watching his lip curl in anger. “Tell me, Loki, does he make you beg?”

You catch the immediate lift of his chin and the subtle flex of his fingers by his side. His eyes glint dangerous as they bore into yours, like tiny fires on the Vanir hills at Yule, but he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t so much as spit a curse in your direction.

The silence is more frightening than any outburst and you know instantly that you’ve struck a nerve.

Loki takes one step forward, to which you instinctively take one back. He notices - of course he notices - and you see the corners of his mouth twitch in a smirk of victory. “You might want to be careful, Princess. Who’s to say I won’t beg the Grandmaster to allow you to meet his Champion?” he says slowly, each word dripping with venom.

You’ve yet to meet the Grandmaster’s Champion - few have - but the whispered stories of gruesome injuries and painful deaths has the blood in your veins run cold. What chance would you have against such a beast? You, a princess with no warrior training and limited magical prowess. You wouldn’t last ten minutes in the arena. 

It’s something Loki knows all too well. It’s the one thing he knows with unwavering certainty that he can hold over you. 

You fight to prevent the fear from showing on your face. The locket around your neck is almost burning your collarbone, but you will yourself to focus on the piece of your mother’s magic that’s safely locked inside. 

This locket will guide you home.

Her voice fills your memory. It centres you and, for the briefest of moments, you’re back in Vanaheim and tucked in her warm embrace. 

All until a sneering, mocking voice breaks through the fog. 

“Nothing to say now?” Loki taunts, easily reading the fear that’s pulled your body taut. “Pathetic little girl.”

Something hot coils in the pit of your stomach, like a serpent ready to strike, but before you can draw enough breath to spit venom, he’s roughly pushing past you to pull open the Penthouse doors. 

You’re disgusted by how the echoing bang makes you jump. 

The Grandmaster’s soiree holds none of the subtle elegance that the word typically calls to mind. It’s raucous and gaudy and the trilling noise that’s supposed to be music is like nothing you’ve ever heard. 

It’s not Vanaheim, and it’s that simple fact that makes another wave of homesickness roll over you. Not for the remnants of the family you’ve been plucked from, but for the soft beauty of the Vanir hills as they rose above each window in the palace; for the lush green fields and quiet gurgle of the rivers in the distance; for the laughter of your friends as you attended the seasons fete. 

There’s none of that beauty here. 

Everything about Sakaar is gaudy to the point of being unnatural, right down to the electric coloured liquid that’s still sitting untouched in your martini glass. In spite of the overpowering urge to drink enough that you forget about being stuck on this Hel of a planet, you can’t bring yourself to drink whatever was pushed into your hand the moment you walked through the door. 

It could be laced with poison for all you know. 

Although, with the way you’ve been ogled since you arrived, perhaps it would bring a blessed end to your humiliation. You pull absentmindedly at the hem of your dress again and try to ignore the burning stare of the man sitting directly across from the bar. He’s been watching since you arrived, taking some kind of sick pleasure in your obvious discomfort, and, when you happen to catch his eye this time, he winks lewdly and gives a subtle thrust of his hips. 

Revolting. 

You make a face of obvious disgust and turn to lean on the bar. At least, with the ridiculous golden train at your back, his view is mercifully obstructed. You finally find the courage to take a sip from your glass, finding that the sweet taste of whatever is inside is surprisingly tolerable. Perhaps you can hide at the bar for the night and watch everything unfold. Surely someone will get drunk enough to tell you the best way to escape.

Your eyes lazily roam the room until they find Loki holding court from one of the canary yellow sofas by the window. A glass of purple liquid is held precariously in one hand while the other is resting around the waist of some pretty little thing perched on his knee. The way she’s gazing at him with those big doe eyes makes you snort and take another swig from your glass. The vapid little thing likely has no idea she’s little more than a toy for him to relieve his frustrations. A man like that isn’t capable of genuine emotion. 

Still, though, you find you can’t look away. You’ve grown so used to the coldness and hostility that seeing this man smile and laugh so openly feels like witnessing something you shouldn’t. He’s all bright eyes and pink cheeks. You might actually say that he looks handsome. 

Evidently, whatever is in your drink is strong.

You finish it quickly, followed by a second and a third, all while keeping your gaze trained on Loki. It isn’t intentional, you’ve just never had the chance to properly study him until now. You see how his eyes flick subtly to his audience after each sentence, like he’s looking for their approval and acceptance, and only when those around him begin to laugh does he commit to his own. 

His performance intrigues you the longer you watch - because you’ve found you can’t stop watching him. It’s so wildly contrasting to the man you share a living space with that you begin to wonder which is the mask and which is the real him. 

Not that you care enough to find out. 

“I’d stay away from that disaster, Princess.” A familiar smooth voice purrs lazily at your side. 

It’s impossible to ignore how your heart stutters momentarily in your chest when you realise it’s Scrapper. She’s nursing a half empty tankard of ale while leaning over the bartop, and you catch the way her fiery eyes run over you from head to toe in your ridiculous dress. You brace for the mockery that’s sure to come, but, instead, the corner of her mouth lifts in a suggestive half smirk. 

Molten heat quickly explodes beneath your made up cheeks. 

You attempt to hide it by scoffing into your drink. “Believe me, I wish I could.” 

Scrapper hums quietly in agreement. “He doesn’t strike me as the most agreeable roommate,” she muses aloud, but her eyes stray to where Loki is now lavishing attention on the girl in his lap. “Then again, what do I know?”

Something in her voice makes you perk up, and with the Sakaarian alcohol in your system making you brave, you can’t help but taunt her. “Jealous?”

Scrapper snorts loudly. “Not of her,” she says simply and takes another long swig from her tankard.

Your brows furrow. Not of…?

Oh. 

Oh.

“He’s absolutely loathsome!” You swiftly force the words out, vainly hoping for a distraction from the ball of excitement that’s started to fizz deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t be attracted to her, to this woman who dragged you before the Grandmaster as though you were nothing but chattel. 

You shouldn’t be, yet you’re already feasting on the memory of her warm skin against yours.

Scrapper slams her drink down so forcefully that you wince and watch the amber liquid slosh along the sides. Evidently, there’s no love lost between her and Loki, and it briefly makes you wonder about their history. 

“He is, but he’s the Grandmaster’s favourite. No one can touch him.” She turns to you then, and her usually guarded eyes are heavy with warning. “Be careful.” 

The faint note of anxiety in her voice propels Loki’s earlier threat to the forefront of your mind. 

“Who’s to say I won’t beg the Grandmaster to allow you to meet his Champion?”

At the time, you had thought it nothing more than a jibe; a snarky retort in the face of your taunting. Now, though, it doesn’t feel like such an empty threat. 

Anxiety rolls over you like a wave on a rocky sea. You focus intently on the glass in front of you, running your index finger furiously around the rim until it begins to hum. A vain little peacock he may be, but you’d put your life on Loki’s ability to fight - and to fight well.

You, though, have no such advantage. Not even your magic would hold up against this Champion. You’d be foolish to even try. 

“He threatened me with the Grandmaster’s Champion earlier. Said he could easily arrange an introduction.” You find yourself telling Scrapper, but why you aren’t sure. 

Perhaps it’s because of the genuine fear rolling in your stomach or the alcohol that’s lacing your system and lowering your inhibitions. What you do know is that this woman to your right isn’t the same one that dragged you through a junkyard and presented you to the Grandmaster as chattel. This Scrapper is still undoubtedly fierce, but she’s somehow softer around the edges. You don’t trust her - and you know she doesn’t trust you - but there’s something in the air that’s linking you both together. 

Likely, your shared hatred of the Grandmaster’s little pet.

Scrapper mutters something in a language you don’t understand, but from her tone of voice it doesn’t sound amiable, and it’s swiftly followed with “I’ll train you myself if that’s ever the case. 

It’s an answer so unexpected that, for a moment, you’re stunned into silence. A wave of your anxiety recoils and you actually find yourself smiling. “It seems I’ve grown on you,” you eventually tease her. 

Scrapper laughs and downs the remainder of her drink in one swig. “Don’t flatter yourself, Princess. I’d do just about anything to wipe that smug little smirk off his face,” she says and glares at Loki still sitting on the other side of the room. 

The blue liquid in your glass rises precariously to the top as you tip it towards her in a half toast. “As would I. Perhaps I’ll rise in your favour when I tell you the first thing I did upon meeting him was blast him halfway across the Penthouse. There was no smugness when he was lying in a crumpled heap at my feet.”

A rush of pride rushes through you when she laughs - this time loudly and so earnestly that it fully reaches her eyes. “We’re certainly not friends, but I respect you a little more, Princess,” she says eventually, her voice returning to that familiar purr. 

Scrapper doesn’t take her eyes off you as she raises a toned arm to grab the attention of the colourful man behind the bar, signalling with a subtle flex of her fingers to bring another tray of drinks. 

You don’t object to the alcohol, and neither do you object when, a few hours later, she locks her warm hand around your wrist and drags you from the bar. This woman could be leading you to your death, but you still trail happily along in her wake, close to giddy with the potent mixture of Sakaarian alcohol and her skin touching yours. 

Scrapper leads you to a cloakroom of sorts, though it looks more sterile than any cloakroom you’ve seen on Vanaheim. It’s a mess of coats, cloaks, and other bits of fabric in a kaleidoscope of colours, and suddenly you don’t feel as out of place in your ridiculous dress. 

“This is cosy,” Scrapper says quietly, and you see her run her eyes slowly over your figure once more. 

The alcohol you’ve consumed makes everything feel light and bubbly like champagne. It’s blanketed you in a comforting warmth and made you bolder than you’ve ever been in your life. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you reply in a conspiratorial whisper, giving Scrapper what you know to be a lopsided smile. 

She raises her chin and gives you that same knowing smirk that makes your stomach somersault. “Would you let me seduce you?”

She’s still holding your wrist and uses it to guide you back against the cloakroom wall. She isn’t much taller than you, yet it still feels like she’s gazing down at you. Her eyes are blazing and you find you don’t care if it’s because of the alcohol. 

How could anyone turn down this woman’s advances? 

“Yes,” you answer, and your heart rate spikes the second the word has left your lips. 

Her smirk grows and she moves her body closer to yours. It’s firm and toned beneath her armour, something that reassures you deep in the back of your mind. You can feel the heat radiating off her, and when she reaches out a hand to grip your chin between her thumb and forefinger, your knees instantly turn to jelly.

“Good,” she murmurs, running her thumb along your bottom lip. “Then why don’t we pretend that we like each other, hmm?” 

You feel her fingers ghost over the exposed skin of your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake and alighting a fire in your blood. Your breath stutters and you involuntarily spread your legs, hungry for her closeness. 

“Yes,” you say again because it’s the only word your frazzled brain is capable of forming.

Scrapper doesn’t hesitate and curls her hand around the base of your skull, pulling you in firmly until her lips are on yours. It’s rough and dominating and, when her tongue traces the seam of your lips, you swear your knees are going to buckle. 

She presses her body firmly against yours, resting her free hand on your hip while yours are locked around her waist. Her kiss has lit a roaring fire deep within you, and when her teeth nip at your bottom lip, you can’t quiet the groan that rumbles in your chest. 

You feel her smirk against your mouth and her hand on your hip squeezes down. “Aren’t you a surprise?” she murmurs, sounding slightly breathless. “I wonder what other little secrets you’re keeping, Princess?” She twists a hand into your hair and tugs.

The moan you release is guttural and the inferno burning in your core is close to swallowing you whole, but you barely have time to breath before Scrapper is greedily pulling you back in.

You don’t know how long she keeps you pressed against the cloakroom wall - and, frankly, you don’t care - but when she breaks apart, you fight the urge to whine. 

“No pouting,” she teases and twists her fingers with yours. “I only thought you might wish to go somewhere more private?”

The emphasis on the last word sends you dizzy and has you itching to squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. 

“Lead the way.”

The soiree is only beginning to die down when you finally wander back through from Scrapper’s rooms. A few women with the tallest hairstyles you’ve ever seen are still dancing to the strange music, and the Grandmaster is still loudly entertaining a handful of guests in the far corner of the room. 

You think you can successfully creep out and find your way back to the Penthouse - even though you’re still giddy and slightly flustered - but then you see him. 

Loki. 

In a testament to how happily intoxicated you are, your first thought isn’t how much you want to blast him through the windows, despite how your mother’s locket is building heat for the first time since your argument. 

An infuriatingly smug smirk curls across his face as he takes you in from head to toe. “Plenty of happy customers?” he taunts you, still holding a martini between those elegant fingers. 

“Mmm, I might ask you the same thing, though I imagine yours have little choice in the matter,” you say before the gravity of your words fully registers in your mind. 

Almost in slow motion you watch the smirk leave Loki’s face and he grips your arm so hard that you hiss in pain. “I would never take something that wasn’t freely offered!” he spits, and you see the dangerous light return to his eyes again. 

You hold his gaze, barely blinking as you search those green eyes. He’s telling the truth. In that respect, you’re safe. Inhaling quietly, you pull yourself to your full height before him, hiding your surprise when he releases your arm without further prompting. 

“That was completely out of line and I apologise. I’ve had too much to drink this evening,” you say, hoping he can hear the sincerity in your voice behind the many glasses of Sakaarian Dream you’ve downed. 

For a second, Loki does nothing, but he eventually offers you a curt nod. It’s the most civilised you’ve been to each other since you arrived. 

You gaze at him for a second longer, and words that were only meant to be thoughts bubble from between your lips. “You know, if you weren’t such an ass, I would actually say that you’re rather pretty.” 

You give no further thought to the words you’ve just uttered, even with the open look of confusion that Loki has adopted. With a final lazy glance around the large room, you turn somewhat clumsily in the direction of the elevator to the Penthouse, feeling Loki’s heavy gaze on your back the entire way.

#loki #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki x f!reader

[nightghoul381]

No Room to Breathe~ Harrison Gray

Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

No Warnings for this part

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

Kate: “Okay. This mission was completed successfully.”

Kate: “…So, why were you laughing earlier?”

Harrison: “Remember when you tied up the criminal with a rope?”

Kate: “I wanted to be useful to you, Harry.”

(…Now that I think about it, I might have been a little too brave.)

In addition to being a fairy tale master, I am also Harry’s lover.

No matter what I do, I’m always worried about whether my lover sees me as a lover.

Kate: “Um, Harry.”

Harrison: “Hmm?”

Kate: “Would you like for me to be a little more ladylike?”

Harrison: “…”

Harrison: “Well, what do you think?”

Kate: “You’re so quick to dodge—”

Kate: “oof…”

After a sudden thud, I turned around and saw a child with a red waistcoat and a red nose looking up at me.

Child: “I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking ahead.”

Kate: “No, I’m sorry.”

Kate: “Did you get hurt? Are you okay?”

Child: “…N-no.”

Harrison: “Hey, are you handing out flyers? Is it for a travelling circus?”

Ferris Circus Child: “I’m a member of the Ferris Circus. We’re in this area now.”

Ferris Circus Child: “I’ll give this flyer to you. If you like, the two of you can come and play with me. Bye!”

The child disappeared like the wind, leaving only a flyer with a gorgeous picture on it.

(…A travelling circus?)

(Does that mean we can only see it now? That’s great, it looks like fun…)

Harrison: “Do you want to go see it now? Are you interested?”

Kate: “Eh? I didn’t say anything just now, right?”

Harrison: “I know you and I know your heart. Come on, let’s go.”

Kate: “Huh…”

I looked at Harry’s profile as he walked away, holding my hand, and I smiled involuntarily.

(I’m really looking forward to the circus and the unscheduled date with Harry.)

(Wow…!)

As we step into the tent where colorful flags are hoisted high,

It feels as if we had wandered into another world.

Harrison: “Wow, the interior of a touring circus is so neat.”

Victor: “It’s true! The Ferris Circus is indeed very popular.”

Kate: “Victor!” – Harrsion: “…Victor.”

Harrison: “Why are you here?”

Victor: “I’m in a fun place, come on!”

Victor: “How lucky I am to be able to meet you cute people in a place like this.”

Victor: “Harrison, don’t you think we’re connected by fate?”

Harrison: “I don’t want to be doomed with you. Shit, don’t hug me…”

Victor: “I love you, even if you’re a bit of a bore. Ah, Kate. Here’s some popcorn. And a drink!”

Kate: “Fufu, thank you. As expected of you Victor, you are fully prepared.”

Harrison: “Don’t take advantage of him like that. That’s why he’s such a nutter.”

Victor: “I’m famous for my modesty. I like to be taken advantage of.”

A fanfare rang out as Harry and Victor had their customary argument.

Leader of Ferris Circus: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!”

Leader of Ferris Circus: “Prepare to be amazed! Tonight, we bring you a spectacular show.”

Leader of Ferris Circus: “We are ready to show off our captivating acts. Bringing you the ultimate excitement and surprise. Showtime!”

Kate/ Victor: “Wow…!”

Starting with that signal, performers demonstrated acrobatics and juggling tricks,

Soaring through the air.

Harrison: “Pfft, haha. Your eyes are twinkling, you look like a child.”

Kate: “Uh, because it’s amazing! Oh, look there’s a lion over there too.”

Leader of the Ferris Circus: “Now, next up is the appearance of the very popular Oliver!”

A boy with braided red hair called Oliver appears with his arms outstretched.

Oliver: “My special skill is that I can easily undo any kind of handcuffs or ropes.”

Oliver: “I’m going to put these handcuffs on someone here now.”

Oliver: “And I’ll remove them in an instant. Now, who would like to help me!”

Victor: “Yes, yes, yes, these cute lovers would like to participate.”

Kate/ Harrison: “What!?”

Harrison: “Hey, you can’t just—”

Victor: “You have to get up on stage as soon as possible. Have a good time!”

Oliver: “Hello! My greatest thanks to these devoted lovers. Now, here we go…”

There was a clicking sound, and my right hand and Harrison’s left hand were handcuffed together.

Then a brightly colored cloth was draped over the handcuffs—

Oliver: “Now to remove it, abra cadabra alakazam, and that’s it!”

(Th-that…?)

(…isn’t it coming off?)

Instantly, a storm of boos broke out in the venue.

Oliver: “W-What? I’m sorry, I’ll take it off now. Oh, the key… I don’t have it? Huh”

Harrison: “…Give me a break.”

--Crown Common Room

William: “—So, you return still tethered. That was a disaster.”

Liam: “Really. So, you couldn’t find the key after all?”

Kate: “Yes, that’s right. Moreover, the Ferris Circus is leaving here tomorrow…”

Harrison: “So, tomorrow we’re going to go look for the key. For now, we’ll just stay like this.”

Liam: “Al is an expert at picking locks, but it looks like he’s gone somewhere.”

Harrison: “…That guy, gets involved when he’s not wanted, but he’s not here when he’s needed.”

 Liam: “But, it’s not all bad. If you’re connected, you’ll always be together, right?”

Liam: “It’s true whether you’re awake or asleep.”

Liam’s meaningful smile made my heart skip a beat.

(…I see, it might be fun to be together 24/7)

Harrison: “Are you thinking of something naughty?”

Kate: “I-I’m not thinking anything naughty! Please don’t make such strange comments.”

Harrison: “Hmmm, am I thinking about it though?”

Victor: “I would appreciate it if you would think about me at least a little bit, Harrison.”

Kate: “Wah…!”

Harrison: “So many times today… is today a bad day or something?”

Victor: “On such a bad day, the Grim Reaper, or rather, Her Majesty, has a mission for Harrison and Kate.”

Victor: “The stage for this mission is the Ferris Circus.”

Liam: “Eh, that’s the circus Harry and his friends went to earlier, right?”

Victor: “Ah, apparently the leader fosters and protects children who have no relatives as performers.”

Victor: “—But that’s just the surface.”

Harrison: “…”

Victor: “There are rumors behind the scenes, they are using these children for his own gain and making them do bad things.”

William: “They help children who have no relatives and train them to obey. So much so that they can’t even refuse to commit sins.”

William: “The leader is not only a trainer for the animals, but also for the children.”

(Train the children…ah)

Kate: “When the boy named Oliver made a mistake, his hands were shaking really bad.”

Victor: “I also thought there was ‘something’. They had eyes that were far from freedom.”

The air surrounding Victor felt frozen, like a dark blue night.

Harrison: “The mission is to see it with my own eyes and find out what’s wrong with it. And if I find it to be evil, I’ll condemn the leader, right?”

Victor: “Ah, that’s right. You can find the keys and complete the mission. You can kill two birds with one stone!”

(There were a lot of small children in that circus group. I can’t overlook it.)

Liam: “But is it okay if it’s just the two of them? They are handcuffed together right now.”

Liam: “Can I disappear and stay with Harry and Kate?”

Harrison: “You were so excited about an important practice you have tomorrow.”

Liam: “That’s true…”

Kate: “We’ll just accept your sentiments. Thank you, Liam.”

Harrison: “The key is bound to be somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ll remove it as soon as I find it.”

Liam: “Okay, I understand. B-but if something happens, I’ll come running right away.”

Harrison: “Damn, you’re being overprotective, Yeah, yeah, I understand.”

Victor: “As I asked. Harrison, Kate.”

Kate: “Yes, then—”

Harrison: “Ah, then—”

At the same time, we stand up and start walking in the opposite directions.

Naturally, we were restrained by the handcuffs and we fell down on the spot.

Liam: “Wow, are you two alright? It won’t work if you walk in opposite directions.”

Kate: “…I was trying to go to the bathroom.”

Harrison: “I was trying to get a drink.

We stood up again, and again—we both fell.

Kate: “You’re going to get a drink, aren’t you?”

Harrison: “I tried to follow you to the bathroom.”

Kate: “For now, let’s catch our breath.”

Liam: “…is it really alright?”

Victor: “Kate is dynamic, and Harrison is static. Kate is the sun, and Harrison is night. They are actually opposites.”

--Kate’s room

After a night of being handcuffed, we awoke to the sound of birds chirping.

(…last night was really tough after that.)

I want to go out for an evening walk, and Harry wants to read a book in his room.

I want to have fun with everyone, and Harry wants to be alone and quiet.

At every turn, our behavior was the exact opposite, which as a result, meant we slept peacefully.

(Hm, Maybe, no, even if he is...)

(--Are we the exact opposite?)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains translation #ikevil translation #harrison gray #ikevil harrison #ikevil harrison gray #ikemen villains harrison #ikemen villains harrison gray

[3-2-whump]

The Party

<prev next>

TW/CW: public humiliation, pet whump (I think?), objectification, whumpee on display, whumpee being talked about as if not even there, light microagression towards whumpee (?) This is fun to tag.

By now, Khaled should’ve been used to hearing the faint sound of metallic clinking as he walked. His owner used to bind his feet in cuffs for nearly a year straight when he had first come into his home, leaving just enough chain in between to walk comfortably and not an inch more. That was nearly six years ago, yet even hearing the faint shk shk shk of shimmering chains whenever he moved mentally transported him back to boyhood, when he was scared, shy, and didn’t know what was going on or what was expected of him. Much like tonight.

“Stand up straight, pick up your feet, and don’t look so glum,” Thomas chided.

Easy for you to say, Khaled thought as he eyed his fully dressed owner in envy. The mafia boss was dressed in a three-piece suit as usual, though he had changed into one of the more expensive ones for tonight’s function, a charity ball of some sort. The garnets set into his golden cufflinks glowed like freshly shed blood under the foyer’s lights as he gestured at him.

Khaled wore gold and garnets of his own, except they were…everywhere. They were in his earrings, in his nose ring, studded like pomegranate seeds in his necklace, acting as connection points in the harness-like body chain draped over his bare chest and torso –he was covered in them and still felt naked. A sheer and silky fabric tied unskillfully around his waist matched the color of the sanguine jewels and provided the only shred of modesty in this obscene outfit. Khaled prayed it would not fall off, but he did not favor his chances.

At least I get a break from that chastity cage, he consoled himself.

He straightened his posture and adopted a more neutral expression. His master smiled. “Good boy,” he said, and yet the usual praise did not ease the nervous churning in his gut. The golden bracelets on his wrists, matching the bands on his ankles, clinked softly as the man reached out to squeeze his hands in reassurance. “You look beautiful,” was all he said to him before he dropped his hand and parted the large doors to the ballroom.

Khaled’s skin seared hot under the chandelier lights as he felt the gaze of every patrons’ eyes on him. Keeping his eyes focused on some neutral midpoint ahead of him –like that potted plant, yeah, is that even real? –he followed his master into the fray, swallowing nervously as he heard the heavy doors close behind him. It felt like everyone was staring at him, and from the glances he dared to take from his periphery, he understood why. Every other patron was dressed in formal attire. Even the few escorts he saw -and he could recognize a fellow sex worker when he saw one- were dressed more modestly than him. At least their chests were covered! His face burned with embarrassment, a blush that probably rivaled the cerise garnets, all the way down to his collarbones.

The boss stopped, finally, and so did he as they settled into the corner of the ballroom. They stood next to the bar and very close to the table laid out with several dozen little canapes. Khaled’s stomach loudly rumbled and his mouth pooled with saliva just looking at them. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was nearly eight hours ago. He glanced at his master, who was currently receiving a glass of whiskey from the bartender, and he carefully stretched a hand out to reach for the tartlet-thing closest to him.

“No.” His bracelets jingled as his hand was swatted away like he was a misbehaving pet. His master stared down at him as he threw back the shot of whiskey. Khaled drew his hand back to his side. “I’ll feed you when we get home, if you’ve been good, that is.” He sighed, but reluctantly nodded. He cast his gaze down to his sandaled feet as he tried not to think about the ever-present food and the persistent gnawing of his stomach.

A pair of expensive black leather shoes stepped into the top of his vision. “Thomas, so glad you could make it,” the unseen stranger greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” his owner replied, a polite smile in the tone of his voice.

“So, who’s this?” The stranger’s attentions were on him.

“This,” he said boastfully, “is my darling, my dearest, my worst-kept secret!” Khaled wanted to shrink away from the attention, but has master’s hand on his waist reminded him not to. “Come on, Khaled!” He summoned his courage to look up. An older man with a pot belly and a short, dour-faced wife on his arm was appraising him curiously, as if he was an exotic item and not a person. Smile, damn it, an impatient voice rang in his head. He flashed them a shy smile as he looked at them through his kohl-rimmed lashes.

“Your intern?”

“My ‘intern’,” his master clarified.

“He’s a pretty one, how long have you had him?”

“Oh, about six years now, come this spring.”

“Wow! Well, you’ve obviously been taking great care of him!” It was so obvious that this stranger wanted to do more than just look at him, with the way his fat fingers practically vibrated in excitement.

 “Six years?!” a second guest –a tall and thin woman– gasped. Khaled realized by now they had attracted a small crowd of partygoers to the bar, all with the intent to sneak a peek at Don Costa’s boy toy. He ducked his head in shame.

“Mine didn’t even last six months!” the woman whined, trying to garner sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I just got lucky, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Tell us, how is he in bed?” another guest asked.

“Good, though there’s not much skill in lying back and taking it!” A chorus of laughter accompanied his master’s. He found a scuff on the hardwood floor and pretended that was the only thing that existed.

“Does he speak?” yet another faceless guest asked. The whole semicircle of gawkers fell silent. Khaled dared to look up. All eyes were on him.

“Well, go on, boy, say something,” his master directed.

Khaled wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

“W-what should I say?” he asked nervously.

An irreverent number of oohs and aahs erupted from the small entourage.

“Not even the faintest hint of an accent!” the first man exclaimed. “Now tell me, Tom, did you train him to speak that well?”

“No,” his owner admitted, “I mean, I hired a tutor to teach him English, but he trained the accent out of himself on his own.”

“Why, though?”

The stretch of awkward silence indicated they were waiting yet again for Khaled to speak, that they wanted him to answer. Khaled shifted his eyes to the floor again, swallowing past the discomfort of being scrutinized this closely. “Because… I didn’t want to stand out.”

-

“You were amazing!” Thomas complimented Khaled as he watched him shovel take-out falafel pita into his mouth like it was his first meal in days.

“So, this was just a one-time thing, right?” his beloved slave asked, cheeks distended with half-chewed falafel.

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Thomas chastised him, “I trained you better than that.”

Khaled swallowed the food and apologized under his breath. “And to answer your question, who knows? They couldn’t keep their eyes off you,” he smirked pridefully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, either. He glanced from the road over to his passenger in the car. Khaled had looked every bit as alluring as he had imagined when he was covered in gold and jewels and blood red silk. He would never admit he was hard for nearly the entire time they were at the party, but the evidence probably spoke for itself through the bulge in his slacks. “It’s no wonder though. Red is a good color on you.” And I want to see what you look like in blue next, he mentally added. “I just might drag you out to other parties in the future if we get attention like that.”

Khaled set his stub of a pita down on his lap. Thomas couldn’t help but grimace; what if it left a stain? “Do I have to dress like this again?” the young man asked, though his defeated tone told him he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t be so sad about it, you were gorgeous!” I thought about nothing but how to get you alone for the entire time we were there!

“I was nearly naked, Master. In public. In front of strangers. Does that not bother you?”

“So? I like to show off what’s mine,” he shrugged. “Look, when you’re free, you can choose to wear whatever you want, but until then, you’ll put on whatever I give you, okay?” Khaled slumped further into the car seat. Maybe it was a bit cruel to tease him with the freedom he’d never willingly give him. Thomas sighed, feeling a little guilty. He reached out a hand to pat a silk-covered thigh. “It won’t be very often, I promise,” he reassured him.

“Yes, Master,” his pet murmured.Thomas smiled. At the red light, he leaned over to kiss the side of Khaled’s sauce-stained lips.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

#whump writing #pet whumpee #tw objectification #put on display #tw humiliation #tw public humiliation #tw slight microagression #if you ask very nicely I will draw this outfit I described and share it #or i might just do it anyway if nobody asks

[sl-newsie]

The Secret Ingredient (Willy Wonka (2023) x Fickelgruber Daughter) Chapter 2: Pleased To Meet You

“Are you alright, Ms. Charlotte?” Lottie asks as she brings over my breakfast tray. “You seem distracted.”

She’s right. Ever since yesterday my mind’s been in a fog. I can’t stop thinking about the man in the top hat. It’s like I’ve got a nagging feeling in the back of my head that’s itching to know who he is.

“Sorry, Lottie. I usually don’t take so much interest in newcomers, but there was something different about that man yesterday. I hope father doesn’t go too hard on him.”

“I very much plan to!” The man in question announces. “That Wonka fellow is going to wish he’d never set foot in this town!”

My head perks up. “Wonka?” Now I have a name to match the face. “But why? He won’t hurt anyone.”

Father scoffs. “He will hurt our business! Besides, he’s-” he shutters. “P- P-”

I raise a brow. “Poor?”

He leans over and gags. “Yes! That! But don’t worry, dear. We are going to run him out and he will no longer be a threat.”

I feel my temper start to churn and I gawk at his arrogance. “There’s more to life than competition, dad. He wants to sell chocolate, that’s all. Isn’t encouraging his dream worth a few coins?”

But it’s no use. Once again my words wash over father and he walks off to join Prodnose and Slugworth for their morning meeting. Guess I’ll go back to my usual reading and study sessions? Unless…

“Say, Lottie,” I think out loud. “I might be willing to take up that offer from yesterday. You’d still be inclined to sneak me out tonight for a bit, would you?”

The maid’s eyes widen and she gets a funny smile. “Yes! I knew it! I knew there was something funny about you yesterday!”

I frown. “What’s that mean?”

She giggles. “Oh, you know. See a cute boy, can’t stop thinking about him…” She trails off suggestively.

“Excuse me?” I gawk. “What’s wrong with wanting to meet someone new? This man might be the adventure I’ve been looking for!”

The day drags on unbelievably slow. The whole time I’m stuck in mind-numbing private lessons about finance and lady etiquette. The only enjoyable session I have is my lecture on chocolate chemistry.

“Mr. Snickers, just how many cocoa beans can be churned into chocolate? Wouldn’t it be the more beans there are the richer the chocolate is?”

My teacher gets a certain gleam in his eye that always happens when I spark an idea. “One would think, Ms. Fickelgruber. But there is also a rumor that there could be a secret ingredient we may never be able to measure.”

A secret ingredient…

Mr. Snickers is by far one of my favorite people. Sometimes I wish he was my adoptive father. He’s no doubt much more caring than my real one. Sadly he has no wife or kids of his own so he’s devoted his life to teaching. His lessons both inspire imagination and moxy, which are things my life craves on a daily basis.

“I’ll leave off with that note,” Mr. Snickers says as he packs up his briefcase. “Remember your assignment is to compare the different cocoa bean to sugar ratios from the major chocolate corporations.”

Just then Lottie appears with his weekly check in hand. They both exchange shy smiles and my hypothesis thickens. For weeks I’ve been seeing their feelings blossom and it only drives my curiosity behind the idea of love. Obviously they take a fancy to each other so why ignore it? But perhaps it’s not as simple.

I catch a quick peek at the window. It’s dark now, meaning it’s almost time for father to retire to bed. My moment of opportunity approaches. It’s best to wear something less conspicuous so as to not draw attention from the constables. For this evening’s confidential gallivant I choose a plain light pink dress with brown boots. I’m actually surprised these are still in my closet. I haven’t worn anything this “poor” in years. But unlike father I prefer a touch of modesty.

Deep breath. Take a look outside… All dark. Father’s gone to bed. Time to move-

Thump. Thump.

What in Heaven? There’s footsteps on the ceiling- Wait a minute. Is that…? It is! The chocolate man and a little girl are floating on the roof! Carrying… balloons? There’s no way I can walk away from this now!

I do little to hide my excitement and take off running down the staircase.

Lottie spots me and starts following. “Where are you going?”

My smile widens. “I’m meeting destiny, Lottie!”

She grips her long skirt and chases after me. “Wait for me! I need to sneak you out, remember?”

Right. That part.

“Quick, get in here.” Lottie beckons to the dumbwaiter and I climb inside. “Once you’re downstairs, take the door on the right. It should lead you to the back alley. Good luck!”

She gives me one final wave and I’m lowered into the cellar. Down here all there is are extra ingredients and old trunks full of countless forgotten things. I follow Lottie’s instructions and step out into the brick alley. It’s so dark not a single shadow is cast. The perfect environment for a quick sneak-out.

If my intuition is correct, the wind would have blown the two balloonists towards West End Street. Thankfully there’s little foot traffic so I have the courtesy to search the skies without bumping into anyone. Since father hardly lets me leave I need to stay focused and not get lost. I shall use landmarks. Like this fountain-

“Don’t sell chocolate here ever again!”

The police chief’s familiar voice heightens my attention and I see him holding a man’s head under the cold water. Wait! Why is he dunking him?

“Stop!” I sprint over and now see it’s the Wonka man that’s being held under. “Chief, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary, miss. He sold chocolate without a license.”

After a few seconds too long I start to fear for his vitals. “Let him breathe!”

The chief realizes he’s still holding Wonka under. “Oh. Right.”

He lets go and the poor man rises gasping for breath, sopping wet. Same overcoat, same worn out boots. I notice a top hat on the ground and pick it up to offer him. But Wonka’s still clearing the water from his eyes and he doesn’t see. 

“There’s your warning, Wonka,” the chief pats him on the back and starts walking away. “Have a good evening, miss.”

Wonka wipes the wet hair away from his face and now I can see just how cute he is, even if he is wet. But not just cute. There’s an intriguing look about him that makes me feel nostalgic and want to explore the wildest ideas my mind can conjure.

“It is you!” I gasp. “The strange man with the magic chocolate!” 

The man himself does a mock bow and tilts his head. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

I shake my head. “No. In fact, I was hoping I might find you to meet you properly.”

Wonka’s eyes twinkle. “Really?”

“Yes I want to meet the man who made everyone happy with his chocolate. You see, normally the chocolate around here isn’t as enchanting as others make it out to be. But your chocolate really seemed to spark something in people yesterday.” I bite my lip and hold up his hat again as a kind of peace offering. “I’m sorry you got kicked out. I tried to stop them.”

“Thank you!” The man grins and places the hat on his head. “Well, since you have done me a service it’s only fair that you get to taste the marvelous chocolate you seem to admire. Here, try one!” 

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate the size of a strawberry. No charge? Father would go ballistic over free samples. It’s not that I’m not touched by his gesture but chocolate has sadly started to become more ordinary than it should.

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it, really. It’s just… I’m personally not a big fan of chocolate…”

“Come again?” Wonka suddenly gets a serious expression. “I don’t trust people who don’t like chocolate.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t not like chocolate, it’s just that chocolate’s been a bigger part of my life than I’d care to admit.”

The man seems amused by my answer and tips his hat.

“I like you! Oh, where are my manners? Name’s Wonka, Willy Wonka! At your service! Miss…?”

A name. He wants my name.

I bite my lip again as I banter with my internal struggle. 

“It’s Charlotte.”

Willy gives me a lopsided grin. “Usually there’s a second part, right?”

I nervously laugh half-heartedly. “Yes, but for me people usually judge me differently when they hear the second part.”

The top-hatted man steps closer and wiggles his eyebrows. “Promise I won’t.”

I arch an eyebrow to show my doubts.

“I promise! And-” He holds up a pinkie. “I’ll pinkie promise!”

His childlike demeanor is too adorable to ignore despite my brain tugging at me to say no.

“Charlotte Fickelgruber,” I speak quickly and tense up, waiting for him to scoff or lose interest. But instead Willy’s surprise is actually polite.

“Really? I didn’t know Fickelgruber had a daughter.”

“Not many do,” I mutter. “Aside from being next in line for his chocolate empire I really don’t have much purpose.”

“Why say that?” Willy asks. “You’re part of one of the biggest chocolate industries ever!”

“Yes, and you’ve personally witnessed how cruel my father can be.”

We start a slow walking pace down the dimly-lit cobblestone street. Now I notice Willy’s still using a cane.

“Why the cane? You're not crippled.”

“It adds character!” he smiles. “You’d be surprised how many uses it can have.”

I peer over at him with curious eyes. “What’s your story? You’re obviously not from here.”

Wonka grins. “That obvious, huh? You’re right. I’ve just come from sailing 7 years at sea.”

My eyes widen. “Sailing? That sounds fun! What’s it like? Are there sea monsters and mermaids? I’ve only ever read about what the outside world is like.”

The man chuckles at my response. “I never spotted one of those, though that doesn’t mean they could be real. Do you read much?”

“Yes. Books are what take me away from here.”

“I know someone who thinks the exact same thing,” Willy points at me as if he’s a salesman addressing a lucky customer. “Well, this is me.”

We’ve stopped at what looks like a dingy hotel. Hm. For being such a colorful character Wonka certainly picked a dodgy place to stay.

“Will you be back at the Galeries Gourmet tomorrow?” I ask anxiously. “People adore your chocolate so you’re bound to make a big profit.”

Willy takes off his hat and twirls it open his finger. “Sadly I’m afraid my business deals will have to be done under the table from now on. Or better yet, under the city.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that since I’m not allowed to sell chocolate in the Galeries Gourmet without a license then I’m selling it elsewhere.”

An uneasy feeling starts to churn in my stomach. Illegal chocolate? What has this world come to?

“Don’t worry.” He must have noticed my concern. “I made some new friends who have helped me come up with a plan. By tomorrow Wonka chocolate will be sold throughout the city for one sovereign apiece, unbeknownst to the police.”

I stifle a laugh. “You only charge one sovereign? No wonder father and the others are upset. That’s way too affordable for their standards.”

Willy just shrugs. “Chocolate shouldn’t be deprived from anyone.” He dramatically looks around to see if anyone’s watching and leans in to whisper: “If you wanna see us in action, stop by the bridge tomorrow.”

My breath catches. “B- But I’m… me.”

“Yes. You are you. What’s wrong with that?” he asks.

“I’m the daughter of one of the men who are trying to run you out of town.”

“So? You’re not your father, Charlotte. Seems to me like you want to change the world with chocolate as much as I do.”

“Psst!”

We both look up to see a girl’s face peeking out of the top window. She’s the one Willy was flying with earlier!

“Willy! Come on! I’ve got the milk, now get up here so we can make the chocolate!”

“Right!” Willy turns back to me and tips his hat as he starts sneaking off to the back stairs. “Sorry to rush Charlotte but duty calls! See you tomorrow!”

And tomorrow can’t come soon enough!

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #wonka movie #wonka x reader #arthur slugworth #felix fickelgruber #gerald prodnose #timothee chalamet #calah lane

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Punishments

BTAA Scarecrow x gn! Reader (NSFW)

(1,567 words)

Summary: You are punished by the Scarecrow and he’s a complete menace about it.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, vibrator, handcuffs, dom/sub dynamics, punishments (duh), fear play, light nipple play, blood, penetration, rough sex, teasing/orgasm denial, crane being a sadistic asshole (but in a hot way)

Notes: I think I went a little crazy with this one, but I’m happy with it. also threw in some more reader-having-a-spine rep bc it’s fun to write and we all deserve it. enjoy the fic

-

“You asshole,” you moaned exhaustedly.

“That may be true,” he crooned, “but I’m not the one who decided to start the marathon early.”

Hearing the soft hum of the vibrator power back on, you braced yourself once again for the incoming onslaught of delicious agony.

How did we get here?

More importantly, how did you get here?

-

With a click, the cuffs that held your hands over your head against the headboard, were fastened.

You could only imagine how vulnerable you looked right now. In addition to the restraint of your hands, you were in nothing but your underwear and an old t-shirt. Behind you was a pillow, which kept you sitting upright to the bed. You kept your legs shut to maintain some level modesty, but with a partner like Jonathan Crane, your modesty was the last thing you needed to worry about.

Feeling his fingers tilt your head up, your eyes met his. A mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, but you left me no choice,” Jonathan sighs with false disappointment.

“Jon, you were gone for like, 3 hours,” you retort. “The Midnight Movie Matinee was already starting, what was I gonna do? Not watch it? It’s a live recording.”

“Fair point, but you know I’ve been looking forward to this one all week.” You feel his cold and calloused hand trail up your leg, stopping dangerously close to your inner thigh, making you shiver. “…And also, I just needed to find an excuse to punish you, it’s been far too long.”

“But I was planning on filling you in anyway,” you shoot back.

“Aw,” he chuckles dryly, “that is such a sweet sentiment, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind the further we get along.”

“The further we get along?” You raise an eyebrow.

Crane says nothing as he rummages around through the drawers. Your brain runs wild with the endless possibilities of whatever it is he’ll use to torment you tonight. With a wolfish grin, he turns around. You quickly spot the small vibrator he was now equipped with.

“What the hell is that?” You ask tensely.

You know full well what it is; you’re not stupid. The question more so implied the notion of what exactly it was he would be doing with it.

“Oh don’t look so nervous, it’s just a bullet vibe.” He says matter-of-factly. “I figured to let the punishment fit the crime, you were, what? 3 hours in? That should be sufficient.”

Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates followed by a nervous chuckle. “3 hours? Did I say that?” You begin frantically. “I mean, if you really wanna get specific, it was um, really more like, uh, 2 hours and 26 minutes?” You plead, attempting to realistically shorten the time of your impending torture and hoping to God that he wouldn’t detect the uncertainty laced in your voice.

With a sadistic snicker, he gently coaxes your legs open. “You’re cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.” He grins maliciously, softly tracing over your clothed sex.

Trying your best not to move, your breath hitches in your throat. By giving him a reaction- any reaction at all, you would only be making it worse for yourself by giving him what he wants. As turned on as you were getting, you weren’t one to submit so willingly.

“I don’t beg,” you sigh, “I negotiate.”

Jonathan lets out an amused hum while getting onto the bed. His eyes remain dark with lust as he leans forward to take in your scent, his mouth beginning to pepper your neck with hungry kisses. When he moves forward, you feel his knee dig into your arousal, where a quiet moan exits your lips. Quickly snapping your mouth shut, Crane looks disgustingly satisfied when he pulls away.

“Oh really?” he drawls, “because from where I’m sitting, you are in absolutely no position to even try to negotiate.” His irritatingly smug voice rings through your ears.

Dammit. He’s fucking right, but you don’t cave.

“2 hours and 26 minutes, doctor.” Your gaze locks with his. “I’ll admit, I was very bad for starting without you,” you allow your voice to drop an octave, continuing to maintain eye contact with the increasingly aroused Jonathan Crane sitting before you. “… But, I will not let myself be punished for a second longer than I need to be.”

Crane stares at you with an expression mixed with curiosity and respect. There’s a brief silence in the room, save for the shuffling of the sheets as he shifts his position. He towers over you, but you are not intimidated.

“Fine,” he grins. He lays a quick kiss on your cheek and begins to slowly make his way down to your neck. The pseudo-tenderness of him kissing into you is sharply contrasted by the venom in his voice when he leans back up to whisper in your ear. “But I won’t make this easy for you,” his hand reaches down, rubbing you through your underwear. “…And if I find out you’ve been lying to me, you are going to catch so much hell and it’s going to be fucking beautiful,” he all but moans the last word when he finally reaches the spot that makes you jolt.

You shudder at his threats; the fear and arousal rip through you like tidal waves. After several minutes, his movements become jerky, lightening up the friction on your sex, causing you to buck into his hand. Letting out a chuckle at your desperation, Crane powers on the vibrator and you can only shift in terrified excitement.

“Nervous?” He asks, pushing your leg to the side, “you should be.” You brace yourself for nothing as Jonathan unexpectedly runs the vibe along your inner thighs. Apprehension spikes within your chest the closer and closer he moves to your core, only for him to snap it away.

Fucking tease.

You begin to squirm as he traces up to your sternum, making his way across your chest. You let out a restrained mewl, arching your back when the toy reaches your nipples through your shirt.

“Don’t quiet yourself,” he growls, “I want to hear every single sound that leaves your impatient mouth.” He continues ghosting over your sensitive buds. You writhe in delectable anguish, remaining defiant as you attempt to stifle any moan he tries to force out of you.

Growing frustrated, Jonathan finally drives the vibrator down to your aching sex, causing a loud and pornographic moan to erupt from your throat. Your face burns with shame.

“See?” He smiles wickedly. Crane slips the vibrator past your underwear, and presses it off, much to your chagrin. He coats the toy in your fluids; your cheeks flush at how embarrassingly turned on you are. “Not feeling so brave now, are we?”

“Go to hell,” you chuckle hoarsely.

“Oh wow,” Crane laughs. “You really don’t know when to quit do you?”

“I figure if you’re going to punish me anyway, I might as well get my digs in too.”

Jonathan’s gaze pierces into you hungrily. He’s quiet for a moment, huffing out a laugh until he meets your eyes once again. “…Fascinating,” is all that he utters.

Giving you no time to process, you see the vibrator swiftly set to the side. Jonathan grabs your face as he slams his mouth into yours. The kiss is sloppy; the sounds you two make are filthy as they echo across the walls. Your tongues messily bump into each other’s. Nipping at one another’s lips, you begin to taste the flavor of metal in your mouth, not giving a shit if the blood you were tasting was his or yours.

You catch your breath heavily as the air around you grows thick with arousal. Frantic sounds of a belt buckle unfastening, pants dropping to the floor, and the tearing of a condom wrapper invigorate your senses. The newfound urgency for lust seems to have infected Jonathan as well, as he all but crumples your underwear off your legs, leaving you exposed.

His mouth continues to ravage yours when he finally enters you. Your lower half aches deliciously, feeling yourself be spread apart by Crane’s cock. He pounds into you ferociously, eliciting moans you never thought you were capable of making begin to tumble their way out of your throat. His pace is violent, yet his hands find their way to yours, which are still firmly locked above your head. His fingers interlace with yours for a surprisingly intimate moment in the midst of one another’s chaotic passion.

You feel yourself begin to unravel. As you wail pathetic obscenities into his mouth, Jonathan begins to slow down significantly. You whine when he stops completely, desperately longing for his touch.

“Oh come on now, did you really think I’d let you finish that easily?” Letting out another one of his signature sadistic chuckles, Crane pushes your retrained hands further into the headboard for emphasis.

As if you weren’t already sweating enough, you can certainly feel the perspiration forming at your temples. Feeling exhaustedly fucked out, but unsatisfied, you glare at Crane.

“Don’t give me that look,” he laughs huskily, “You’re being punished, we still have 2 hours to go, remember?”

“You asshole.”

“That may be true, but I’m not the one who decided to start the marathon early.”

#btaa scarecrow x reader #btaa scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane imagine #mia writes batman!!!

[bengiyo]

For Him Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we started with a breakup. Nail learned that Jay has been cheating on him with some other woman. The woman intentionally let Nail know and we had all the drama. He and Jay were committed to the point of rings, but Jay blamed Nail for being distant with him. Nail and his squad got together, and a new guy named Him started pursuing Nail. They were very flirty and eventually started hooking up. Dew is very pretty in this show, and I’m liking the dynamic between the leads.

Hm, is Him also getting over a breakup?

I hope Him doesn’t let me down. He’s beautiful, and I like how direct he is with Nail.

I love this returning the shirt scene. This is the second returning of clothing scene I’ve had this year after La Pluie, and I love that both shows understand the importance of the rituals.

I don’t think we’re talking about movie genres anymore.

What happened to Blue? Did he just leave? I hope he didn’t die.

Him seems so intense about Nail. It’s a lot for how little they know each other, but I like it because it feels like they’re both rebounding.

Second date and they’re going raw in a tub. Ladies, Theydies, and Gays, don’t do this. It’s hot, but unsafe.

Wow, these bubble jets are working overtime to protect the modesty of the leads.

Oh no we’re interacting with side characters who I don’t even know how they’re related already.

Did Him and Te hook up? What is the connection to Blue, and why does Te want Him to suffer?

I love when they let the BL boys drive very expensive cars, because it’s always on a closed road and very slowly.

Sorry, girls, Him is clearly very gay.

So Him is a model, and now he’s performing tonight? He can act, and dance, and he can sing?

Wow, Him, that was a harsh deflection about your ex. I like that these two have histories that complicate their current fling with each other.

I’m not sure who these side gays are, but I like this boy dunking on the cheesy pickup lines.

Doctor’s appointments? We have health drama!

I do not know these guys’ names, but I like them discussing what they want from each other!

Man, there’s something too intense about Him’s eyes. It feels like an intentional choice from Dew. It’s not lost on me that he immediately called Nail after getting pushes from his mom and Te.

I like that Nail is being clear about how far he’s willing to go with Him.

Okay, so Blue is alive, and also looks a lot like Nail???? Y’all can’t just dye their hair back to black like this!

WTF is wrong with Te??

Okay, this show is struggling to incorporate their sides into this mix, but I’m intrigued by the direct communication so far.

#for him the series #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

[igotanidea]

Still waters run deep: Dick Grayson x f!readear

Summary: Here are some things I heard about myself: Kind of a girl that looks young, innocent and harmless. Kind of a girl you know is the weakest link in direct combat. Kind of a girl you tend to ignore beacuse she is no threat. The girl you feel the need to protect. (ironically, completely different than the previous one). A sensitive one. A shy one. Well, tonight I'm going out in sole purpose to have some fucking fun, cause life has been a mess lately. So, let's see if I'm going to act like shy and sensitive one after a couple of drinks. Oh, Dick's not going to like it.......

Warnings: cursing, a bit of smut (minors DNI!), mentions of illegal activities,

First person POV

This has been a hell of a week.

Between fighting with titans and keeping my secret identity a secret I also had to deal with day-to-day regular job and it made it twice as much energy consuming than for everyone else.

Of course, my thoughtful (and a bit too possessive) boyfriend tried to convince me to give one it up and commit to the Titans fully, but  much to his disappointment (to say the least) I refused , trying to balance it all.

So, can you blame for being stressed and drained?

Given all that I had two options – lay down, getting all my emotions suppress me or quite literally shake it off. A little party was just what I needed. But going out alone was not something I enjoyed, so the plan was to somehow convince Donna and Dawn to have a girl’s night out.

“I’m out” Donna muttered, not even raising eyes from the book she was reading

“Oh, come on” I whined “all work and no play…..”

“Don’t.” she cut me off, warning in her voice and instinctively I looked down moved by her harsh tone “Sorry Y/N. You know I don’t mean in in a bad way, but seriously. I really need some time alone, all right? I’ll join you next time.”

“Fine. I won’t push you. Hopefully Dawn will be up for the party.”

“Sorry, Y/N, I’m staying too. Hank has been going through something and I need to get him to talk before it gets out of hand.” Dawn chimed in

“Right. Can’t risk the big guy losing control.” I muttered getting her point but still disappointed

“No hard feelings though, right?” the blonde asked putting a hand on my shoulder, reassuringly

“No, no, of course not. I guess I will just go alone than.”

“Is your boyfriend not up to some dance with you?” Donna smirked knowing well enough how Dick felt about any and every party. Bruce had him discouraged during the years when he was forced to attend Wayne’s yearly galas. Therefore, I was not even going to ask him.

“Such a surprise, right?” I rolled my eyes ironically

“You know, maybe you should give him a chance.” Dawn suggested “I’m pretty sure he will go anywhere with you.”

“The point is, I want to party, not watch him eye everyone in search of a potential threat, so…. yeah, I’m going alone.”

“Stay safe than” Donna muttered, back into lecture

“She knows how to handle herself.  Have fun Y/N.

It took my quite a while to get all dolled up, wearing the dress that surely drew attention and was far more revealing than the hero suit I was used to, and putting a bit more makeup than on a daily basis. Truly, even with all my self-doubts and modesty, I had to admit I looked hot as hell. This is going to be a good night. I though as I sneaked out the tower.

***

Dawn was only partially right. I knew how to handle myself, but still all I heard from people was that H/N was the weakest link in combat. That Y/N was that kind of girl that pose no threat and the one you don’t really give attention to. It always made me …. sad and a bit angry for being seen like this. There was so much more to me they never seen. But tonight, tonight I was going to let it all go and just let loose. Knowing well enough, Dick would never approve of my plan for the night. Well, I was not his possession, was I?

***

Third person POV

Dick was working out, not surprising to anyone. He needed a good training after the whole week of stress, anxiety and fast action not that it was going to change anytime soon. He was truly hoping this will clear his mind, but clearly it did not.  So the other option was to find his girlfriend and let her soothing presence and her soft touches calm him down. He truly had no idea how she ended up with him. He was rage, she was clear thinking, he was impulsive and a bit reckless, she was always the one with the plan and clear vision. He missed her. For the last days they didn’t really spend much time together and when they did it was usually just sleeping together, tangled with other, trying to get as close as possible without disrupting the rest they both so desperately needed. Passing by was not good for the relationship and she pointed it out once, when instead of spending time with her he was up late, but he never listened. Until now. With the best intention to make up for his negligence he started searching the tower for her, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

“Has anyone seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Seems to me like she finally broke.” Hank muttered with mouth full of some crazy dish he made “got to admit, she was pretty resistant in ditching you.”

“I’m serious. Did she left the tower?”

“Do you think you can keep her a prisoner here? She’s a free spirit, a fierce woman with ……”

Since Hank was not helping, Dick decided to ask Donna and Dawn if they knew anything. At first, they kept their mouth shout, not revealing the plan their friend made, but seeing his sad puppy eyes and real worry on the boy’s face they gave in.

“She went to a party” he repeated a bit confused. Why? Why would she go without him? Why wouldn’t she tell him a thing? Was she going for a one night stand? “Where?”

“She wasn’t specific about that, but knowing Y/N she joined the first club on the way.”

“I need to find her.”

“No, you don’t. She deserves fun.” Dawn objected

“It’s not like I’m going to destroy it” he stated, crossing arms on his chest “what?” his face dropped a bit upon seeing girls’ mocking expressions

“Not at all, Dick. You’re just a party animal.”

“I….” he tried to say something, but at the same time his phone rang and he was fast to pick it up seeing it was Y/N calling. “Y/N? Baby, where are you? are you all right? Did something happen? I will pick you up just tell me….”

“Dickie….” She slurred “I’m having so much fun! All those boys are just so friendly, you know. Wish you were here, boyfriend. TIME OF MY LIFE!” and then she just hanged up on him.

“Was she drunk? She never gets drunk.” Dawn was now a bit concerned about her friend safety

“Are you sure that she knows how to handle herself now?” Donna was obviously sarcastic on the outside but quite as much worried inside “she has no real fighting skills and if some creeps are all over her…..”

“Stop it!” Dick felt his blood boil at the mere thought of any other dude touching or even getting close to his girlfriend. If anyone were to cross the line and to hurt her,  he would have no mercy and no hesitation in permanently hurting all of the perpetrators “We’re getting her home. I’ll track her phone. “ he rushed to the elevator grabbing his jacket on the way, ready to fulfill his knight in shining armor duties.

“Do you think we should go after him?” Dawn looked at Donna. Dick was really in the state of mind in which he was capable of everything.

“I’m not his babysitter” Donna scoffed “And neither are you.”

 “But maybe we should make an exception and just this once follow him?” Dawn insisted

“What about Hank?” Wondergirl asked

“What about me?” said boy came through the door, a bowl full of food still in his hands.

“He can join.” Dawn shrugged, not really giving the boy any liberty to decide for himself

“What exactly are you girls getting me into?”

“A party, apparently. Main stars being very drunk Y/N and very angry Dick.”

“Well if that’s the show I’m all in.” Hank was already halfway to the door. “Are you coming or what?”

***

First person POV

I made a really, really good decision to come here. After a couple of drinks all of my inhibitions dissolved  and I wasn’t the quiet member of the team anymore. Oh no! Now I was the star of my own show! Dancing like there was no tomorrow, moving my body, showing my best moves. Old, quiet Y/N was long gone, the sex queen raised. Apparently I was not solitary in that opinion as a couple of guys, I was eyeing for some time now, came closer to me, following my dance moves. One of them grabbed my hips from behind as the other put his on my waist. Shit, they were both so hot and I giggled seductively trying to imagine how surprised Dick would be right now if he saw me. Not a good girl anymore! Not the one he could omit and neglect and left high and dry, unfinished . This was not a revenge or a payback, this was my way of getting what I needed, what I wanted, what I deserved. If my boyfriend wasn’t up to the job I needed some other forms of entertainment.

The song changed into something far more sexual and  the guy moving behind me started to pull me closer as his friend leaned in, his faces inches from mine. I did not stop him as his lips crashed on mine, his hands started roaming my body, caressing my skin pulling me off the dance floor. I let him fully take control of me. After all, like I said I was eyeing him all night, giving signals to come closer and have his fun.

“come with me, baby. Let’s go somewhere private and quiet, shall we. I’ll make you feel good, you look like you need it”.

“Less talking, more action” I whispered in his ear “I want to get you all alone, loverboy.”

The last sentence finally made him grab my hand tighter and get me out, downstairs. Apparently the club was situated above some old bunker, not that I cared when I picked it as my nightly destination.

Third person POV

  ***

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?

Getting the signal from her phone took Dick just  a few seconds and getting to the place where it came from, mere minutes. He was quite relieved to realize she wasn’t far but the view before his eyes made him regret getting here so fast. His love, his sunshine, his girlfriend was practically making out with some dude, that wasn’t him. In the middle of the club! What happened to the girl reluctant to any form of PDA!?

FUCK!

This fucking guy was touching her in the way no one else but him was supposed to! Getting his dirty hands on her perfect hips, trying to sneak them under her dress to feel her soft, smooth skin. For a while his mind was blurred with the memory of her naked body underneath him, whining and squirming in pleasure only he was capable of giving her. The flashback of her begging him for more, more…. Of her hands all over him, pulling him in, her soft moans as he was getting her high, her quiet words assuring him that she loved him so, so much and that he was doing so, so good…..

I need more, Dick…… please…. I need you so bad…..

I love you baby, I love you so much. Tell me you’re mine.

I’m yours, Dickie. Only yours…..

And I’m yours, baby. Let me show you…..

FUCK! FUCK! He was going to kill him for even looking in her direction! His poor baby girl. Seduced, probably drugged and used! The sudden movement, coming from the direction where she was, made him come back to reality and as he saw that lapdog drug her out into more secluded part of the building, the Robin with his ruthlessness took over his mind and action. Oh, this was going to be a bloodbath. 

Just a couple minutes later, the rest of the Titans team entered the club. At first glance everything was fine, but Dawn was quick to pick up on Dick’s figure disappearing behind the back. It took her  a second to figure out his posture was now different, more stiff, more grim, all his muscles tensed and fist clenched. The only things he was missing were mask and cape, but besides that, he wasn’t Dick Grayson anymore.

“Fuck!” Donna hissed realizing the same thing.

“What? What is going on?” Hank wasn’t even half as fast in recognition as girls, confused and lost in the situation.

“Just shut up and hurry or someone will end up hurt!”

***

First person Pov

“Where are you taking me? “ I giggled almost tripping over my legs, letting the stranger guide me

“Patience, baby, we’re almost there.

“I need you now” I whined, not being patient.

“I now, sweetie, I know. But trust me, once we’re in the safe place you won’t get rid of me….” He trailed, something dark in his voice

“I surely hope so…..” I started but didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence as something dark and stinking covered my head, my face included cutting off the oxygen supply and making me black out.

Oh, fuck….

***

I have no idea how long I was unconscious but I woke up to the sound of a few male voices, three or four most probably, but the extreme headache I was now experiencing did nothing to my evaluative skills. Oh, and I was also tied up, not able to move, my hands above my head, facing all the capturers.

“how many pills did you give her?” one of the man said

“One as planned.” The other replied

“Well, if it was one she would be up by now, you idiot! I’m serious, how many!?”

“One or two additional may have slipped in.”

“You dumbass! We need her aware of what’s happening! It makes everything far more funny.”

“I agree with him. The screams and attempted fight just spice the whole act” Ok, that was the third

“All of you shut up now!” the last one. So my calculations were right. There were four of them. Despite the situation, I congratulated myself in the back of my head. I groaned a bit and it got their attention “Oh, the princess is finally waking up. Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetie.”

“Where….. where am I?” I muttered narrowing my eyes. Gods, why all of the kidnappers always had to use the brightest light available.

“Well, it really depends from the point of view. From mine, you are on the verge of heaven, from yours probably first step of hell.”

“Are you the boss?” I looked him straight into the eyes

“ Are you always so eloquent?” he crouched next to me and grabbed my face painfully “and here I was thinking you were only  a pretty face and a nice ass” he slap my back and I flinched. What did I got myself into?

“What are you going to do to me?” I sobbed, tears falling down my cheeks now.

“Oh, there it is. You are finally realizing what is going to happen to you, don’t you?  Such a pathetic little bitch. Probably forgotten by a busy boyfriend, am I right? Desperate for entertainment and attention. Those are the easiest catch.”

I shook my head abruptly, the mascara smudged all over my face, vision blurry.

“Don’t cry princess. Where we are sending you, you’re going to have plenty of boys ready to thoroughly devour your attributes” the man laughed viciously. “Am I right boys?”

“So what is it? Some sort of trafficking ring? You sell girls to the brothels?” I gasped in terror, my eyes growing wide and mouth falling open in awe.

 “You little pinhead” he cooed “you’re lucky you’re pretty, because sensibleness is not your strongest suit. Yes, we will send you to one of our massage parlors. The clients will love you. And hey, another good thing. You will get to meet with some other bitchy hoses like you. After all, you were asking for it, weren’t you, you little slutty whoredog?” he leaned across, his face inches from mine.

“Ok, I think that’s enough.” I stated, becoming calm and sober in a blink of an eye. Before any of the guys wrapped their heads around the situations I did a flip, kicking their boss straight into the jaw, probably causing the ostectopy and sending him flying back. One out, three to go. The second one came right at me but I used my strength to hoist up and wrap my legs around his neck.

“Here’s a taste of your own medicine” I spat, now causing him to black out due to the lack of oxygen. “Not so nice is it?”

Two to go.

The third man came from behind me with some stick in his hands, his gaze fixed solely on my face. Oh, poor one, he thought he got himself some crazy weapon. Fool. It was way too easy to just trip him up, causing the guy to make friends with the floor.

“You bitch!” right, there was the last one. Probably the smartest (irony of course) observing my moves and trying to get the best strategy to get me.

“Please, tell me you are at least a bit better in fighting than those scumbags” I sighed in desperation. Honestly, my hands was becoming  a bit sore and I wanted to get over this situation.

“You bitch!” he yelled again. Definitely wasn’t the one with wide stock of words, but what can you expect in his profession. Taking cue from his friend, he tried to gather himself some gear, settling on a rusty chain laying nearby, spinning it over, almost hitting me. I just moved a bit to the right and then to the left and then a bit more to the wall, the man following me closely still playing with the chain. In the final moment I ducked and the weapon bounded off the wall hitting him right in the face, knocking him out. So, all four hurt, unconscious and defeated. The only problem for now was getting out of the rope that hamstringed my wrists.

“Do you need help with that?” a familiar voice and a familiar face egressed from the shadows.

“Nah, not really. I can handle myself” I smirked casually. In some other circumstances I would probably add a shrug but it was a bit impossible now.

“Mhm, I see” Dick came closer, stopping just a foot away from me. All of a sudden the closeness made me away of my vulnerable position. Ironically, I was not scared standing with my hands up in front of four dangerous men, but became paralyzed in front of my boyfriend. And shit if he didn’t; know that.

“Did you follow me? How much did you see? Wait, how long were you creeping there?” I tried to take control of the situation.

“Long enough to see you to do some improper things with someone that wasn’t me.”

“I bet he learned his lesson by now” I pointed my head towards said man lying on the floor, stepping from one foot to another. The position was getting more and more uncomfortable with every second.

“Oh, not even close. It’s me who will give him a lesson. When I’m done there will be nothing to pick.”

“Dick….” I whined, now really in pain.

“You got some moves baby” oh, this jerk really enjoyed having me on his mercy “why did you never show it in the tower?”

“You know, I’m really living by the still waters run deep rule. I…..” I groaned a bit and his eyes darkened at the sound “I like the element of surprise.”

“Do you? Well, this really was a surprise to me. In more than one way.” His face was now inches away from mine and I felt my cheeks (and not only them) growing hot.

“Dickie…..” I whined again

“By the way, are those the guys who were engaged in human trafficking? The one who sell girls to brothels?  The ones we were trying to track for the last month?”

“Yes…. I…..”

“So this was your plan all along?! Did you know how much danger you were in!?” his voice grew a bit more angry now. He was probably imagining all the things that could have happened to me. It served him right! “What if they were stronger than you? What if you weren’t able to defeat yourself? What if…..?”

“Grayson!” I yelled in frustration cutting him off.

“What is it babygirl?” he faked innocence.

“Can you… can you get me out of this ropes? Please? It hurts now. ”

“Don’t know. I saw you doing some things I didn’t like tonight. I think you deserve a bit of punishment for that” he smirked.

“Dickie….. please, please…” I moaned in that special way and it turned him on at once as he crashed his lips on mine, one of his hands lifting me up motioning to wrap my legs around his waist, the other untying the rope finally setting my arms free. As soon as he did both of his hands circled around my waist pulling me closer to his chest, squeezing me against his body while his lips and the kiss became faster, hungrier, more passionate and predatory. Not that I complained as my own fingers ghosted over his arms and chest, going down to the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it of him. He groaned and pushed me to the wall to enable himself to pull that useless piece of material over his head. God, he was so well built it took my breath every time I saw him shirtless. He was so warm and strong I instantly felt safe, craving his touch, his attention and affection tossing my own shirt away.

“What happened to you?” he muttered against my skin, his lips moved to my neck and shoulder covering it with kisses and hickeys.

“What…. What do you mean?” I gasped as he found one particularly sensitive spot.

“We are practically in a public place. Everyone can nail us going so physical” his lips ghosted over my half-exposed breast “you were always so private, babe…..”

“I missed you” I confessed “and I honestly don’t care anymore. I need you. I want you. I don’t care who can see us…. Make love to me…..” I whispered and felt his pulse raise.

“I missed you too…..” his hands reached towards the clasp of my bra, letting my breast free “I’m gonna make you feel so good babe….”

***

“I don’t want to see anymore of this. I’m gonna be sick” dark haired girl standing in the corner turned on her heel and rushed out.

“Well, I am quite enjoying the show” the muscular boy let out a laugh but being hit through the head by his blonde girlfriend crouched and they both left the room as well. The only people present were two very longing for each other young adults, too busy with themselves to care about the rest of the world.

@somest1 @pinksirensong - I'm sorry to drag you through this ..... 🙈

#dc #dc imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x oc #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson #nightwing #batfamily x reader #dc titans #dc titans x reader #donna troy #wonder girl #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #nightwing imagine #nightwing fanfiction

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Prologue: Twisting the Knife [MDKT2023 Day 7 what happens in x stays in x] Walk Away Series A Silva x transmasc Reader fic A Strange way of Life

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: body dysphoria, breast binding, self harm(maybe?), alcohol abuse, self-hatred, self-depreciating thoughts, trauma, trans trauma, mentions of being pregnant/child-bearing, pigs? Let me know if I missed anything

1177 words. Twisting the Knife

You’re drunk. Too fucking drunk to be safe. The binding wraps on your chest have been on too long and you know your chest is going to suffer for it tomorrow. You should go back to your room, sleep off the whiskey and regret. But you don’t, when have you ever been sensible in your life?

If you made the habit of being sensible, you’d be knocked up with a fifth or sixth kid, waiting hand and foot on a man you despise, as you pretended to be the good wife. Pretended to be something you aren’t. Something you never were, nor ever want to be.

“Hey there handsome, you drinking alone tonight?” A husky, accented voice draws your eyes up from the depths of the amber liquor in your glass. Your head swims as you take in the scruffy man before you, his large hand gripping the empty seat next to you.

He’s broad, his flannel shirt straining to contain his rippling muscles as he leans over to size you up. His salt and pepper hair is somehow dishevelled and graceful at the same time. His eyes are warm chocolate pools of compassion and the patchy facial hair smattered across his jaw makes you want to know what it feels like on your skin.

“Handsome, that’s a funny joke man, move along.” You grunt, your voice coaching somehow still keeping up as you’re wasted, the affected masculine edge holding up as you try and push the handsome stranger away.

“Modesty ain’t a flattering colour on you,” The stranger chuckles as he sits next to you, “What’s your story?”

“Seriously,” You grunt as you pick up your hat and replace it on your cropped brow. You wobble as you stand and give the handsome stranger a stern look, “Leave me the fuck alone.”

You snatch the cheap bottle of whiskey up from the table and stumble out of the saloon. You don’t know where you’re going, but you’re running away. As always. Always running from the hand you’ve been dealt.

Distorted imeages of drunkards, whores, and other wayward souls such as yourself fill your mind as you find a suitable alley to piss in. You unbuckle your belt and take one last cursory look around to check that no-one else is around. As soon as you’re sure the coast is clear you squat down and piss. You finish up with a grunt as you lean back against the wooden structure behind you.

The night is cool, Fall is fast approaching and you’re running out of reasons to keep going for yet another cold, lonely Winter. You swig from your whiskey bottle and weep to yourself as you let the pain wash over you. The self-hatred, the refusal to let anyone in.

Would it have been so bad to suck that strangers dick? Make him feel good just so you could proxy some pleasure through him?

Your whole body aches, from far within the cavernous depths of your chest, to the backs of your tired eyes. You just want it to stop, the hatred, the fear, the anguish that every breath rips from your mouth.

You stumble about for some time before you fall into a hole of your own self-hatred.

Self-hatred, it turns out, smells like a pigsty.

~*~

You wake with a dry mouth, tasting cheap liquor on your tongue as your head pounds incessantly, like you’ve been kicked in the head by a horse. You slowly open your eyes, grateful for the storm raging outside as your eyes adjust to the low lamplight of your room above the saloon. You look down to see your clothes from the night before still clinging to you body. You try to remember how you got here, the last thing you remember was the grunting of pigs as their soft snouts roamed over your body.

A soft snort from the corner of the room startles you and you look over to see the older man from the saloon, snoring away in the threadbare armchair near the door. You curse yourself silently as you pull the wool blanket up to your chin.

Has he looked? Does he know?

You ask yourself as you gently feel over your aching chest, your bindings are still in place and your long johns are still covering the rest of your body. You take a steady breath and try to formulate a plan, but your head throbs and you need water.

“So, you’re awake.”

The sultry drawl of the older cowboy catches your attention as he gives you a soft smile.

“Stubborn bastard, I told you to leave me alone.” You spit, fuming impotently as you don’t want to get out of the bed, for fear of him discovering your shame.

“Then I found you in a pigsty, you were making quite fast friends with the hogs too.”

“Fuck, I didn’t ask for your help, why’d you even bother?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose as your voice cracks, the feminine lilt making you want to vomit more than your hangover.

“Because I know that look,” He says as he gets up from the chair with a grunt, a sharp series of pops emanating from his spine as he goes, “I know the pain simmering under thew surface of your tough guy act.”

“You don’t know shit old man,” You hiss as he sits at the edge of your bed, a meaty paw resting on your shin as you flinch away from him, “Get the fuck out of my room.”

There’s a pain behind the stranger’s eyes, something deep and familiar that you don’t want to confront. He smiles softly at you as he nods slowly. You yearn for his touch, for if it were even a pale shadow of his kind voice, you know you’d never let him go.

But people like you don’t deserve kindness, love. You’re a broken doll, useless

“Alright, I’m not so much of a masochist to keep listenin’ to your abuse, but if you ever change your mind, I’ve got a ranch out west, just shy of a day’s ride, if you want the details ask Manuel at the bar.”

“Whatever.” You grunt as you roll over onto your side, staring at the peeling floral wallpaper with venom enough to kill a horse.

“See you around, guapo.”

The moment the door shuts behind him you launch out of bed to secure the lock and prop a chair against the handle. You strip with fervour as your chest aches and your ribs whine in protest against the binding.

You sob to yourself as your breasts spill free, traitorous globes of tissue and fat that make you sick to behold. You throw on a clean flannel to cover your shameful body before crawling back into bed, cocooning yourself with wool blankets and the loose shirt.

Your body shakes as you weep into the abyss, you long to have been stronger, to have welcomed the kind stranger into your bed. But, as always, you flee.

Because it’s all you know how.

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[beechersnope]

I don’t care how niche it is I need more milf seb/mick 😫😫😫

ask and ye shall receive!!!

warning for mentions of underage masturbation, fucked up relationship dynamics, blink-and-you'll-miss-it michael/seb, objectively bad sex, and angst!

1877 words

***

Mick knows better than to enter Seb’s room unannounced. That’s why he does it.

Usually, it doesn’t amount to much. Most often: a quirked brow over the top of whatever book Seb is reading that day as she lounges in bed, steadfastly ignoring the kids shrieking their heads off outside her window as they chase each other around the garden. Sometimes, she’s asleep, just the knit blanket pulled over her to keep cool during the summer afternoons, pale skin peeking through the fabric like a promise.

Mick always lingers too long in the doorway, whether she knows he’s there or not.

Seb’s been coming to the summer house so long that the spare bedroom has become firmly and undeniably hers, but Mick can’t remember when he stopped knocking. Maybe when he was sixteen, and he’d caught a glimpse of her through a gap in the curtains, her back naked and gleaming from the shower. He remembers that summer vividly, despite the fact that he’d spent most of it under the covers in his bedroom wanking himself raw to the memory of that brief flash of skin.

Seb isn’t his. He can’t have her. But he wants.

It’s a shock to his system when he opens the door this time to find Seb naked and sprawled out in a mess of tangled sheets. Mick’s mouth goes dry. He stops short in the doorway, like he always does, but Seb makes no move to cover herself with the blanket lying in a crumpled ball near her hip.

“You’d better close the door,” is all she says in a calm, level voice.

Mick takes another step inside. He closes the door. Then he stares.

Seb lifts her eyebrows but doesn’t tell him to leave. She doesn’t get up either, still lying there in the same position Mick had found her in.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Mick finally manages to tell her.

“Don’t think I’m up for it tonight,” Seb replies.

Mick finally takes in the whole scene as he stands there; the way Seb is holding her right arm at an awkward angle to her body, the slight tightness in her expression, the tube of some sort of medicated ointment sitting with the cap off at her feet.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asks her. It almost feels like a normal conversation now, or it would if Seb wasn’t naked, what little remains of her modesty only preserved by the angle of her bent knee shadowing her groin. But Mick can still see her breasts, her nipples soft and malleable still in the warm air, and it’s about all he can do to keep his eyes locked on her own.

“My shoulder,” Seb replies with a taut smile. “Not as flexible as I used to be.”

Mick wants to ask what she was doing that requires flexibility, but that isn’t the sort of thing you ask a friend of the family, not even one he’s known for so long that they could practically be family—and that really isn’t the kind of thought he should have about someone he’s fantasized about every time he’s had a hand on his cock over the course of the last eight years of his life.

“Oh,” Mick says instead, still frozen just centimeters from the doorway. It’s all he can muster up in response. He should leave, he thinks, before he embarrasses himself any further. But he can’t seem to make himself turn around.

“Can you…?” Seb says with a vague hand gesture.

It takes Mick a second to realize she means for him to help her retrieve the ointment from the foot of the bed. Already, before he even takes a step forward, he has visions of slick hands against Seb’s skin dancing in his head.

He keeps his head down as he approaches the bed. He has to look at her at some point, he knows this, but it feels forbidden. Something he can’t come back from.

Mick carefully picks up the tube of ointment and squints down at the label. It isn’t any kind of muscle relaxant or pain reliever he’s ever used.

“You’ll need gloves,” Seb says in a soft voice. “You shouldn’t get it on your skin.”

Mick still doesn’t get it. He looks up at her from the foot of the bed, confused.

“It’s estradiol cream,” Seb explains. “For menopause.”

Mick scrunches his eyebrows together. His mother had just undergone menopause. Seb is almost twenty years younger. “You—” he starts to say, before realizing he has no idea how to finish that sentence. “I don’t have any gloves,” he says instead.

“That’s okay,” Seb replies simply. “There are condoms in my bag.”

Mick’s face goes hot, and he turns around immediately, though he knows there isn’t any hiding the blush that must be lighting up the back of his neck like a beacon. He finds her bag where it always is, open and still not unpacked, right next to the dresser that remains stubbornly empty year after year. It takes a bit of digging to find the condoms, and as he pulls them out in one big, long strip, he can’t help but wonder why she even has them at all.

Mick tears one off but doesn’t open it. He approaches the bed again, this time from the side, careful not to look at her as much as he wants.

“What do I…?” Mick has no idea how this works. “Do I just rub it on your back or something?” He assumes that’s what had done her shoulder in.

Seb stifles a laugh as she shakes her head. “It goes inside me,” she says, casual as anything.

The condom in Mick’s hand suddenly feels weightier than it should. “Oh.” He still doesn’t move to unwrap the condom. The tube of cream sits on the bed next to Seb, untouched. “You have to tell me,” Mick pleads in a small voice. “You have to tell me what I should do.”

Mick watches the gears turn in Seb’s head as he stares at her. He wonders if she never realized before that the way he panted after her every summer wasn’t out of childish admiration, but something else. Something hotter and darker.

“You can,” she says at last. “If you’re careful.”

“I want to,” Mick says, almost delirious with it. “I want to be careful.”

Seb smiles and says nothing. She opens her legs.

Mick has to close his eyes for a moment. It’s like a camera flash, the ruddy flush of her parted cunt imprinted on the backs of his eyelids.

When he opens them again, he’s already hard in his jeans, and he has to drop the condom onto the bedspread so he can rip them off, his shirt following shortly after in a flurry, tossed carelessly onto the floor. Something to worry about later.

The condom doesn’t go on easy, and Seb isn’t any help. Mick hasn’t had much practice, admittedly, and he burns with embarrassment from his head to his toes as he struggles to roll the condom over himself in a hurry. He somehow manages to snap the ring at the base against the underside of his cock at the very end, and the stinging pain radiates outwards from the point of contact with a strange heat that emerges from his mouth in the form of a low moan.

“You like a bit of pain?” Seb asks with a smirk.

Mick nods, though he isn’t even sure it’s true. He thinks maybe he’s just so overwhelmed by the imminent moment that he can’t process anything else, that all of him is so focused on the idea of being inside Seb that his brain is incapable of interpreting any other signals. They’re all getting turned away at the gate.

He has to move back up the length of her body once the condom is on, teeth gritted as she applies the cream to the very tip of his cock, careful not to let any spill onto the sheets.

“It’ll melt,” she tells him. “You’ll have to be quick.”

Mick doesn’t need any further encouragement.

He feels like a virgin again when he pushes inside her, nothing but the slickness of the cream guiding the way. She’s hot inside, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but it takes Mick’s breath away, nevertheless. He doesn’t think he’ll last long, and he doesn’t think he can make her come, but Seb doesn’t ask for anything. She lies there, seemingly content as Mick fucks in and out of her, almost frustratingly nonreactive.

"Did you—” Mick stops himself short again, slowing down the pace of his thrusts instead. This time, he knows what he wants to ask, but he doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer. He thinks it might hurt too much.

“Keep going,” Seb says. The look on her face says, ‘this is enough’, but it doesn’t feel like it for Mick.

This is everything he’s ever wanted, but it isn’t the way he wants it. He can’t have her the way he wants. He knows that. It’s already too late.

They barely touch as Mick fucks her, his hands pressed against the mattress on either side of her pillow. He’s careful not to press down on her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he tells himself. (A lie.) She’s tight inside, and Mick thinks that without the condom or the cream, it would hurt them both. Like this, it’s just enough friction, just enough pressure that the condom almost doesn’t seem to matter. He can feel every part of her cunt around his cock; he thinks he could memorize her, just from this, that he’d be able to tell it was her even with his eyes closed.

He comes disappointingly soon, with a too-loud cry that he’s afraid to muffle against the inviting skin of her throat. As soon as it’s over, he pulls out and rolls over onto his back, already trying not to cry.

“You weren’t a virgin, were you?” Seb asks.

Mick doesn’t think she means it unkindly, but it still stings. He shakes his head.

“You should let me take the condom off,” she adds as he continues to lay there without moving, his dick finally starting to soften against his belly. “And make sure you wash up, too, before you go to dinner.”

Mick doesn’t say a word as he kneels next to Seb on the bed and waits for her to peel the condom off with an almost agonizing slowness. When she’s finished, she gestures to the adjoining bathroom.

Mick takes a long time, careful to wash any part of himself that had touched her. He scrubs his dick raw with the damp cloth, until it hurts so bad that that he has to bite his fist to keep from crying out loud enough for Seb to hear him beyond the bathroom door.

After he emerges a few minutes later, his soft, red cock cradled protectively in one hand, Seb is asleep on her left side, her back turned to him. Mick redresses quietly at the foot of her bed, watching the gentle ebb and flow of her sleep-breathing.

When Mick opens the door again to leave, he doesn’t linger.

#smick #f1 rpf #f1 smut #my fic #honestly did not mean for this to be as depressing as it is #was shooting for s*xy m*lf vibes and missed

[st-juliet]

Ready Now

Fandom: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock comforts the reader in heartbreak…and opens a door for a happier future.

Content: A very light 18+ just to be safe, for implied sex.

Notes: Angst to comfort to fluff. A bit of a shameless self-insert to improve my spirits, and perhaps yours, too, if you are in need. Title from the Dodie song which I love so dearly!

“Miss—?”

“Oh, no.”

The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, and tears prick at your eyes. The last thing you could ever want at this moment are the keen eyes of the Great Detective turned upon you in the most painful moment of your life…but such are the perils of open windows and the garden shared by his flat and yours.

You deduce at once that he has heard through your open window every word that passed betwixt you and the man to whom you were, until this hour past, betrothed: Sherlock Holmes knows you have been forsworn, with another already chosen to assume your place by the side of the man who had promised you his heart and his life. This embarrassment coupled with your anguish is almost too much to bear, and you almost flee back into the house, but his voice stills you.

“Your compassion does you credit,” he says, carefully keeping his eyes upon the flower he was inspecting, where a little bee hums contentedly, wholly unconcerned with human troubles.

“My…compassion?”

Sherlock is quiet, but insistent: “That heartless young man has callously thrown away his greatest chance at happiness, and you—who are best positioned to inform him of it—instead wish him well. You preserve his reputation when his own actions have sullied it, and defend a character he could perhaps aspire to, though it is you yourself who possess it. Such is your compassion, to care for his welfare when he has disregarded yours. When he has treated you so…”

He trails off, turning away from the garden to look at you in earnest. You can see him auditioning adverbs with which to end his sentence, in varying degrees of delicacy: indifferently, unkindly, cruelly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you protest feebly, before he can settle on a word.

“Forgive me, my lady, for contradicting your charity,” he scoffs. “But I have seen and heard too much which has roused my suspicion and my unmitigated anger. Your effective disappearance from society following your engagement; your hesitance—indeed, your fear—to even speak to another man, apprehensive of his jealousy; the want of preparation or celebration of your impending marriage…and that his published columns in the papers are so unmistakably your ideas, even your words, filtered weakly through his pen.” A tear slips from your eye and down your cheek.

“You know?”

His gruff tone and his steely expression soften at once, melting into a gentle murmur and a warm gaze as he draws very near to you.

“I have told no one else. But if you chose to reveal him as a fraud, I would second you at once,” he avows, and then he smiles softly. “And if you chose to empty his plagiarizing inkwell over his head, I would likewise hold your gloves.”

“I need not do that, I think,” you smile back, even as more tears run down your face, the efforts of preserving your composure slipping away at this matchless kindness. Sherlock draws his handkerchief from his pocket and presses it into your hand delicately, giving a light squeeze to your fingertips before drawing back.

“Then I repeat my sentiment of your compassion. And I never meant to peer into your private business. But my incontestable busybody of a brain could not mistake your suffering, or its cause.”

“You are very good, sir, to think of me at all.”

“Not half so good as you. No—no modesty from you tonight; I will not accept it, knowing how you have already humbled yourself to salvage the honor of a replete cad. But I cannot say I am not something pacified, knowing that you are free of him.”

“I did not wish to be free of him,” you confess, dabbing at your eyes as the subtle scent of his tobacco and cologne, infused into the cloth of the handkerchief, washes over you—a comforting, intimate sensation even in the midst of your grief. “I wished to love him. But he does not love me.”

Sherlock seems to wage a small war within himself before he speaks again.

“I cannot possibly imagine your pain, nor would I ever instruct you not to feel it, fully and completely, till you have made your way through. But you must know that there are men whose hearts are not made of stone. Men who would be moved, and infinitely so, by the tenderness and care he neglected, who would give any earthly riches or heavenly rewards for the chance to return your love tenfold.” He inclines his head to brush an impossibly soft, tender kiss to your forehead, so light and so loving that you think at once you must be dreaming. “Please, my dear, sweet lady—whenever you are ready, remember this.”

With a slight bow, he returns to his home, but the memory of his touch and his kindness lingers, a sweet reprieve from your sorrow even on this darkest of nights.

~ Some Months Later ~

“Sherlock?”

“My dear Miss—“

“I am ready now.”

With his words and his deeds, with his body and his soul, he drives from your mind every less than loving touch you have suffered, every thoughtless word or neglectful silence, entreating you to forget past pain and trust your own heart again. You coax from him a lightness and laughter, hold him through the depths of his sorrow in defeat, and ardently welcome him home victorious. You build and rebuild. You learn and grow. Together.

And when he kisses you for the first time.

When you walk arm in arm through the world, through the change of seasons.

When he kneels and asks for your hand, and sings to the world of his good fortune and the grace of your future.

When he brings you to bed with a fierce and tender passion, each surrendered wholly to the other in perfect harmony.

When the sight of your newborn child cradled in your arms causes your strong, steady husband to weep at this miracle made from your love…

…you are home.

If you prefer wordy smut, you might enjoy my masterlist. New Utmost Merit chapters to come soon, as soon as I stop moping. <3 Thank you for reading!

#sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock #henry!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #enola holmes fanfic #henry!sherlock

[holylulusworld]

Dream a little dream of me (1)

Title: Dream a little dream of me…

Square filled for @howbadcanitbebingo​: Being trapped and sex must be ensue

Summary: It’s your birthday and one of your favorite fantasies comes true.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Soldier Boy x Reader, Jensen Ackles x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.333 😂

Warnings: language, naughty dreams, fantasies, fangirling, RPF, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, taking turns, creampie, a hint of oral (male rec), breeding kink, cuckolding (kinda), I’ll label this slightly dub-con (not to me but before anyone complains…), spanking, I mention gunplay, mentions of anal sex (nothing happens, though), marathon fucking, Plot? What plot? it’s basically just fucking with Jensen Ackles’ characters

A/N: It’s my birthday and I do with them what I want to.

Dream a little dream… masterlist

It's a little past 1 am when you finally shut the TV off. You rub your tired eyes, yawning as you must get up for work in not six hours. Binge-watching all episodes of The Boys after you just had a Supernatural marathon wasn’t your best idea.

You can’t help it. Jensen Ackles will be the death of you, or rather his characters Dean Winchester and Soldier Boy.

“Fuck! That was intense,” you gasp as you remember every scene with Soldier Boy, your favorite actor’s new role. “He just killed a man using his shield. He’s a sexy and dark version of Captain America but so, so fucking hot!”

You wish there wasn’t an ache between your legs or that you already know another naughty daydream will keep you awake for much longer. “Maybe I should take care of you first. What do you say, little slut? Pink rabbit or the big guns tonight?”

“Fucking get up from the bed,” you mutter in your sleep as someone just kicked your bed. “Bitch, get out of the bed. Where am I and why can’t I leave this room?”

“Fuck, leave me alone, mom. I want to sleep some more,” turning around your wrap your arms around your pillow, hugging it tightly. “I just had the best dream. Get out of my room.”

“Miss, uh—there is no mom, and you are alone,” another voice reaches your ears. It’s a softer one, but still rough and low. “Miss, you gotta wake up. We need answers.”

“Just a minute longer,” hiding your face in your pillow you whine as someone tries to drag your blanket off of your body.

“Get out of the bed,” a third voice gruffly growls in your ear. You can feel his breath fan over your exposed back as he removes the blanket to expose your naked body to the others. “SONOFABITCH!”

“Hello there, the little kitten is a naughty one,” the first voice says while stepping closer to your bed. “Maybe I should have a closer look at her. I can imagine a thing or two I’d like to do to her to get answers.”

“Sir, I must ask you to not touch the woman. We just arrived here and I think she’s the only person able to help us get out of here,” the second voice tuts. “We shouldn’t hurt her, guys. I mean it. Let’s just talk to her.”

“I know what happened. She’s a fucking witch and summoned us. I swear if you hurt my brother you are dead, witch,” you blink your eyes open as someone pokes your arm. “Get out of the bed, sweetheart. We are going to have a long conversation. Don’t make me get my gun out.”

“Gun?” now you lift your head to look into familiar yet foreign eyes. “What? WHAT THE FUCK!” you jolt up on your bed, screaming as Dean Winchester, your favorite fictional character, stands right in front of you. “Dean Winchester from Supernatural? How’d you get out of my dreams and into my bedroom, dude?”

“In flesh and blood,” gasping you grasp for the blanket to cover your modesty. “So, how do you know me?”

“I-I just watched like ten episodes of Supernatural and this must be a dream…an odd one. Usually, you are naked and between my legs or on top. I guess this is another crazy dream. It’s just, I never smelled you before.”

“Stop talking to that bitch,” you squeak as someone roughly grabs your ankles to drag you off the bed. You land on your ass, grunting as another man stares down at your naked form. “If you don’t give me answers, I’ll force them out of you.”

“OH FUCK! That’s Soldier Boy,” fuck, you whimper like a needy slut as the supe roughly grasps for your arms to force you on your feet. “So strong and tall.”

“Fucking pathetic slut,” he pushes you around and roughs you up a little before you end up pressed against the wall. You can feel his suit rub against your exposed body and to your shame, you start to grind your ass into his crotch. “What’s wrong with you?”

“May I?” you whip your head toward the last man in the room, gasping as Jensen freaking Ackles stands next to you while the man behind you starts to fondle your tits. “Miss, we all saw a blinding light, and then, we were in your room. Do you know—”

“She’s a witch,” Dean barks. “Lemme get my gun out and press the truth out of her.” A whimper leaves your lips at his words. “Oh, you’d like that, don’t you? All those toys didn’t get you off, huh?”

“I will get the answers right fucking now,” Soldier Boy fumbles his pants open with one hand while the other creeps between your legs to toy with your clit. “She’s fucking wet.”

“That’s a lot of fucks,” Jensen complains. “Can we not just sit down and talk. Maybe she’ll help us on free terms. She doesn’t look like a kidnapper or killer.”

“I’m not, oh fuck me,” you feel the wide head poke your entrance. Soldier Boy forces you on tiptoes as he roughly shoves his length inside of your hungry cunt. “FUCK!”

“That’s a tight little cunt for me to enjoy,” Dean steps next to you, and hungrily stares at your chest. He licks his lips, debating to join the sins the man wearing the same face commits right in front of him. “Yeah, you will tell me everything for an orgasm, won’t you.”

You struggle to answer as Soldier slowly starts to rock his hips. He’s so thick you fear he’ll tear you apart if he goes any faster, or harder…or anything. “Please, I—you’re too big.”

“Nah, you’re not used to getting fucked by a real man, is all, my little slut,” he casually says while wrapping one large palm around your throat. He holds you against the wall, as he starts to move in earnest.

Soldier Boy is not the kind of man for foreplay or slow sex. No, he slams into you and makes you cry out at the force he uses just for fun. “She looks like…” Jensen stammers. “Fuck, she likes it rough.”

“Harder,” you can’t move or, even breathe right but a single word slipped past your lips. “P-lease.”

“You want it harder?” pressed against the wall you can only whimper in return. “Good girl. I’ll give you harder.”

“Don’t break her, man,” Dean growls now. His eyes glued to your blissed-out face he smirks darkly. “Or break her and I’ll ruin her completely after you are done.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Soldier Boy spears you open with every unforgiving thrust. He doesn’t care if you get off or suffocate. All he wants is to fill your cunt over and over again until you are a begging mess. “I fuck that whore now.”

“I want a turn too,” your eyes roll back as the man holding your life and body in a tight grip angles his hips. He rubs against your g-spot, making you moan loudly. “Move faster and get off. I want her on the bed, full of my cock.”

“Okay, this is weird,” Jensen huffs as you cry out with every thrust. You are nothing but a hole to the man fucking the life out of you. He roughly grips your shoulders and holds you against the wall all the while sledgehammering into your soaked cunt. “Usually, I don’t watch my characters fuck someone.”

“Get it in your thick skull, Ackles,” Dean grunts, “we are all here. I don’t know how, but we ended up in that little witch’s bedroom. Whether you help us weaken the powerful creature with our cocks or just sit over there and watch. I don’t care.”

“You mean…I can fuck her too?” Jensen hastily undoes his pants to get his aching cock out. He watches his latest role manhandle you like you are a ragdoll.

“I’m done with her,” Soldier Boy rams into you five, six more times until you feel his cum shoot into you. You don’t know if the orgasm he forced on your body is enough to sate your needs, but your cunt still cries for more when he pulls out and pushes you into Dean’s arms. “Here, you’re next.”

“I can hardly wait,” Dean twirls you around and pushes you onto the bed. You end up face first in the cushions and struggle to get back up. “Stay like this. If you move, I’ll fuck you with my gun instead of my cock.”

“Sonofabitch,” Jensen crawls onto the bed to fist your hair, he smirks darkly as you look up at him with wide eyes. Your lips part on their own and he doesn’t have to tell you to take his cock down your throat. He wouldn’t have, though. Jensen roughly shoves his cock into your mouth, slapping your cheek as you don’t start bobbing your head right away. “Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

“It’s my turn, not yours, Ackles,” the hunter growls behind you. He drags you off of Jensen’s cock, daring the actor to lay claim on you before Dean had his turn. “I’m gonna fuck her and you’ll watch me. After I’m done, you can have her sloppy hole.”

“I want to be next,” the actor tries to push Dean away, grunting as the hunter won’t budge. “You are only a role I played. I’m the main act here.”

“Can you not share?” you whimper as both men stare down at you. “I could suck Jensen off while you fuck my pussy.”

“No,” Dean pushes your face into the cushions and lifts your butt. “This won’t turn into a threesome. I fuck your cunt and later, he can have you.”

“And after the actor is done, it’s my turn again,” Soldier Boy runs his hand up and down his already half-hard cock. “Aw, look at you on the bed, waiting for another cock to use you. You’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

“YES,” you hiss when Dean roughly grips your hips to drive right into you. He’s grunting behind you, not missing that you moan at the fulness. “He’s thick too. Just like you, Sir.”

“Calling me Sir won’t get you anywhere,” you weakly lift your head to watch Jensen and Soldier Boy stroke their cocks. “Maybe if you take it up to your ass like a big girl, you are forgiven for bringing us here.”

“Don’t, witch,” you can only take Dean’s pace as she slaps your ass anytime you try to push back onto him. “You will take what I’m willing to give to you, whore. If not, your ass will be raw when I’m done with you.”

“Aw, he’s not nice to you, huh?” Soldier Boy mocks you while Dean slaps both of your cheeks with full force. You cry out but clench tightly around his shaft as the pain pushes you toward a much-needed second release. “Look at that slut. She loves to get slapped and used. How about you become my sex slave?”

Eyes glassy you look at Soldier Boy, nodding silently as a pair of rough hands spanks your ass until you cry. “Shut it. You’re nothing but a cum dumpster to me. I’ll kill you if you don’t get us out of here.”

“Not before I had my turn,” Jensen watches your weak attempt to rock your hips. You are painfully close to another orgasm and don’t want Dean to take it away from you. “Give her another orgasm. Don’t be cruel, Winchester.”

“Shut up, Ackles,” Dean slaps your cheeks roughly again. He smirks as you mumble praises into the cushions. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You took me so well, now cum.” The hunter grabs the back of your neck and holds you down as he starts to pump faster into you. “Right now, or never.”

“AH…oh…fuck,” you clamp down hard onto his thick length, dragging Dean with you over the edge. “So good…so fucking good. I’ll never let you leave my bedroom again.”

“I dare you to not let us go,” the hunter slaps your ass one last time. “Actor, your turn. After you are done, we will interrogate her.”

“Aw, look at you all fucked out and no rational thought left,” Jensen teases as he climbs onto the bed. “Now, how shall I fuck you? Bend over the bed, against the wall, on the floor like the whore you are…”

“Just get it done, actor,” Soldier Boy mimics Dean’s voice. “We are tired to watch you act like a man. You’re a pussy, too chicken to fuck her as a man should.”

“Shut up,” the actor growls. “I can fuck her better than any of you ever could. You’re only a tiny piece of the real me. An image, made up by some bad writers.”

You sneer at Jensen’s words. He can’t just ruin your favorite fictional characters for you. “I think little slut disagrees,” Dean says lowly. “Well, then, the stage is all yours. Show us how you can fuck her.”

“I bet he can’t even get his dick inside,” you giggle at Soldier Boy’s words. “Let me have her again. I don’t think Mr. Ackles can’t handle a girl like her.”

“Fuck off,” Ackles growls now. “Maybe I just force her on her knees and let her choke on my cock until I cum hot and heavy down her throat and she won’t get any.”

“That’s not how a man fucks,” Dean sneers. “You fuck her hard, spank her ass if she needs it, or call her slut, but you always make your girl cum.”

“Only if she was a brat you don’t make her cum,” Soldier Boy agrees with the hunter. “Fucking her like a man means to make her beg for more and take everything you have to give. Not to leave her hanging.”

“No fucking for you until you learned how to satisfy her,” crossing his arms over his chest Dean nods at Soldier Boy. “You will sit over there and watch us have our way with our slut.”

“Oh, fuck me…yes,” you whimper, feeling the ache in your cunt return. “But can I suck him off a little? I always wondered if Ackles is packing.”

“A little,” it’s Soldier Boy who grabs the back of your neck to bring you to your knees. He smirks darkly down at you, loving you are a helpless little lamb in front of the big bad wolf he is. “How about he fucks your cunt in this position. You will look at me the whole time he tries to get you off, kitten.”

“O-kay,” you feel Jensen’s cock slide through your folds the moment you agree. “Can you call me slut again?”

“Aw, she’s such a good little slut for us, isn’t she?” Dean muses as you stick your ass out to help Jensen lines his cock up with your slit. “Fuck her deep and hard, Ackles. Show us what’ve you got.”

“Hurry up, I’m rock-hard again,” you grasp for Soldier Boy’s cock, gasping as he tightens the hold on your neck. “Did I allow you to touch me?”

“N-no.”

“Don’t touch me before I tell you so, whore,” Jensen finally slides into you, hands pawing at your waistline to drag you onto his length. 

“Fuck.”

“That’s it. Take my cock so deep it hurts, slut,” he starts to move his hips, easily sliding in and out of your ruined cunt. “She’s dripping onto my balls.”

“That’s my cum,” the hunter smirks darkly as he watches your lips part. You hold Soldier Boy's gaze all the while moaning for the man behind you. “Maybe a bit of Mr. Fantastic’s cum too.”

“I don’t fucking care. I will fill this cunt up and breed her. She’s going to be my whore from now on. Everyone watching her walk around town will know Jensen Ackles put a baby in her womb,” you shudder at his words. “You like this, don’t you? Answer me!” He spanks your thigh, making you clench tightly around. “Slut.”

“YES,” Dean chuckles as you longingly look up at Soldier Boy. “Will you fuck me again, Sir?”

“I’m going to fucking ruin this pussy. No man will ever want to go for a ride as I destroyed your hole.”

“Man, I gotta say,” Jensen lazily thrusts into you, “she’s a damn good lay. I can feel her sweet cunt squeeze me tightly. Fuck. I’m gonna cum inside.” You are about to cum again when Jensen speeds up. He can’t hold it any longer and snakes one hand between your legs to furiously rub your clit. “You better cum, now.”

“Cum for me,” Soldier Boy smirks when you make an odd noise. “Now, whore.”

“YES!” the dam breaks once again, drowning you in pleasure as Jensen’s warmth fills your abused cunt. “Fuck, he wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Ackles complains loudly. “That was a grand prime fuck.”

“Sweet little kitten,” you moan as Soldier Boy dips his head to greedily shove his tongue down your throat, “I’m sorry you had to endure his sloppy thrusts. I will fuck you again right now and you’ll cum over and over again…”

“Hmph,” you slowly blink your eyes open. “What an intense dream. Shit, even the room smells like sex and cum. That’s what I call a wet dream. It feels as if their cum is still running out of me.”

“Oh, it is, sweetheart,” Dean strolls back into your bedroom, grinning as you are still spread out on your ruined sheets. “Seems like with every orgasm we gave you, we were able to explore another room of your apartment.”

“What?”

“It’s like we reached a new level every time we fucked you,” Soldier Boy stuffs a sandwich into his mouth. A towel hangs loosely around the men’s hips and their hair is still damp from the shower. 

“We should get you clean now,” Dean carefully picks you up in bridal style. “I guess you’re not a witch.”

“No, only horny,” you hide your face in his neck, giggling. “I just don’t get how you ended up here.”

“Voodoo?” Jensen joins the party. “I made breakfast and checked on the internet. It seems like everyone knows I disappeared.”

“Same goes for me. Sam won’t stop calling, but I can’t take the call,” Dean grumbles. “I sent him a message.”

“I didn’t check on the news,” Soldier Boy shrugs. “I owe no one shit. If I can stay here and fuck our girl, I’ll adapt.”

“Did you try to leave my apartment?” you carefully try, glancing at the men in your bedroom. “Dean?” You look up at the hunter, searching his face. “Did you try?”

“Well, yeah,” he huffs. “I got out, sent Sammy a message, and got back in. You know, maybe I can stay here for a while.”

“You don’t even know where ‘here’ is, Dean,” you argue but the hunter won’t give in. “Guys, we should find a way to send you back to your universe.”

“I live in your universe,” Jensen clears his throat. “I checked and I am the Jensen Ackles from this world. Can’t say anything about the others, though. I’m not against staying here for a little while. We could try to send the others back while I try to get you full of my babies.”

“God, that wasn’t a dream?” rolling your eyes you groan. “Can we decide on taking a week off to have fun and after, we will try to get Dean and Soldier Boy back home.”

“No,” Dean mutters under his breath. “I’ll stay here. Maybe we can get Sammy here too.”

“I don’t want to leave this place. I like it here,” it seems like none of them wants to leave your apartment for the time being.

“Fine, let’s decide who can fuck me again the easy way,” you look up at Dean. “Don’t go for scissors again, Winchester…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Dream a little dream of me #dean winchester #soldier boy #howbadcanitbebingo #Jensen Ackles #Smut #dean winchester x reader #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles x reader #rpf #plot what plot