#sexy memories flowing all over was the first line

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION : PART ONE

SUMMARY : being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the sad version.

PAIRING : dean winchester x dreamwalker!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : rowena macleod, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, fluff, almost-smut, talk about depression, low self esteem, thoughts about past prostitution

WORD COUNT : 11k

A/N : title from a jamie's elsewhere song. this fills the time travel square on my @jacklesversebingo card. inspired by loki season two, please don’t change by Jungkook, and the spider-verse movie. no spoilers. This is written from Dean's perspective and in first person (it was fun but tough) X

I couldn’t sleep tonight.

It’s normal.

She’s asleep next to me, breathing slow and quietly. Her chest rises subtly with each breath. Her lips are parted, just slightly.

Her soft hair is splayed over the pillow like the rays of a sun and she’s facing me. One of her hands rests on her stomach and the other is bent upwards beside her, her hand resting in a loose fist by her neck.

Her steel necklace rests haphazardly over her neck. The chain is thin and fragile. Glimmering in the faint light coming through the opaque hotel curtains. A tiny and thin, rectangular centrepiece is lined with miniature gems and suddenly stops leaving a centimetre free of plain steel, and it rests in the dip of her collarbone.

She’s quiet tonight. Laying still, unmoving. I smile at her, resist the urge to touch her smooth skin or brush her hair away from her shoulders. She wakes up easily, a light sleeper, the cutest one. I’m surprised my staring doesn’t wake her.

Memories move in and try to overcast my mind. At least she takes me away from the darkness that threatens to consume me. Right now, I’m focused on her and the way she breathes.

I try reminding myself of what I have right now. Her. Sam. Cas. Jack. That’s all that matters. I won’t even remember why the feelings overflooded my chest, poisoning my mind, breaking me down until I’m down. In the morning, when the sun shines and pours through the window, I realise it isn’t so bad. When her soft voice flows into my ears, when the flowery aroma of her intoxicates me, when her warm touch comforts me, when the sweet taste of her lips makes me forget what I had been worried about at night.

It’s always the same. Like her, I learned to live with the pain.

She moans softly beside me. Not a sexy moan. It sounds irritated at something. I turn fully onto my side to face her, panic makes my stomach sink. I frown and my train of thought is lost as I wait to see if she’s having a nightmare or not.

She mumbles something I can’t understand, but she doesn’t seem to be in distress. She turns over onto her side, facing me fully. Strands of her hair fall gracefully over her face. I move back slightly but her arm lands in my waist, trapping me in place by entwining her legs with mine. I squirm when her elbow pokes my ribs and I reach out at last, caressing her cheek. With a few whispers of her name and some gentle prodding, she shuts up and her eyes flutter open.

She groans gently and whispers my name, adorably disoriented. I chuckle and lean forward to kiss her forehead before she could even fully wake up. She hums anyway, satisfied and scoots closer to me. Her soft legs slide against mine again; it makes me warm.

She’s moving up on the bed, too, and slides one of her arms under my neck to pull me closer. I willingly go and I grin as soon as my face is pressed against the top of her breasts. I breathe her in and close my eyes. Her skin smells amazing and she gently starts scratching my scalp with her nails. I moan quietly when a shiver runs up my spine and I keep her in place with one arm wrapped around her waist from beneath her.

I move my other hand up to her jaw to tip her head back to kiss her neck. I can hear her breath hitch and she starts to squirm, her thighs become tense and they start to move against my own. When I thread my fingers through her hair and tug weakly, she rolls her hips against mine.

She’s breathing heavier already. I love how she reacts to me.

Heat blooms in my stomach, my cock twitches, and my insides clench instantly when she wraps her arm around my shoulder and then pulls my own hair. I grunt softly against her neck, but she’s pulling away. Her nose bumps against mine and she finds my lips with her own, soft and warm.

I hold her tighter, lowering my hand to squeeze her ass. She smiles against my mouth and I do, too, nibbling on her bottom lip. I move her hair away from her face before sliding my hand down her shoulder, teasingly bringing the strap of her bralette down. She arches her chest into me and I lean down to latch onto her nipple once I get the soft material beneath her chest.

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask curiously. My warm breath hits her wet nipple and she shudders. I slid my hand out from beneath her to play with the hem of her underwear. Slowly, I let my hand sneak into the front.

“Uh,” she trails off distractedly, she attempts to hold me in place against her breasts. I didn’t have any plans on doing anything besides that, but I pulled away on purpose to watch her open her eyes and complain about my inactivity. “Hey, why’d you stop?”

I smirk at her and I pull my hand out of her underwear to hug her, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. I roll over on top of her, holding her in place with my hips against hers. “I wanna know what you dreamt of. You were moaning and movin’ around,” I explained with a frisky grin, trying to make her think that I’m assuming it was a wet dream.

She frowns instead and asks, “did I wake you?” She cups my cheeks and my face softens as I look down at her. I shake my head and I drop kisses along her face until I hear her laugh quietly. “You should’ve woken me if you couldn’t sleep,” she murmured.

I shake my head again and she rolls her eyes, pushing me away to turn her back to me. I follow her immediately to kiss her cheek, to make her not be irritated at me. She’s smiling before I even land a kiss to her face and I grab a handful of her ass instead, squeezing in retaliation.

“I was just gonna grab my phone,” she lies and laughs. She starts to wiggle around and almost fails to laugh quietly, trying to get me off her when I tickle her neck with kisses. I let her go eventually and she immediately reaches for her phone on the nightstand. Her screen turns on when she tilts her phone towards herself, a photo of me naked flashes my face and I get flustered, taking the phone from her after she whined, “it’s gonna be four?”

I stare at the photo in surprise. The photo was cut off at the bottom, barely showing my hip bones, hiding what she had been doing to me. I remember that day, it was our anniversary. We spent about two days together. She was giving me a handjob and she convinced me to let her take a couple of pictures. Who am I to deny her that?

Let’s just say there are more photos and a video.

“Hey! Give it back,” she pouted, wrapping her small hand around my wrist. I ignore her, and move away from her sneaky hands as I blush when my eyes trail back up to my face on the photo. I look like I’m about to orgasm.

“That’s a photo of me,” I stated bluntly. I unlocked her phone curiously and lo and behold, it’s a picture of me fucking her. My stomach clenches, I’m thrilled, even my cock starts to harden at the sight of me standing on my knees, my hand is splayed over her pelvis and my thumb is on her clit.

“Oh, I thought it was a photo of Henry Cavill,” she answers flatly. I feel my heartbeat rise and I bite my lip, I focus on her more than on myself, even if most of what I can see is me. I couldn’t decide whether to look at her in front of me or to keep staring at the angle she took the photo from.

“Shut up,” I mumble, fascinated by the high quality of her photo. I had used a pillow to angle her hips upwards. I was holding her leg up by her ankle and she had her other leg thrown over my hip… the sounds she made that day, they were unforgettable.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” She asks suddenly, snapping me out of my horny daze. I look over at her and watch her bite her lip shyly. “I can change it, it was a joke… mostly.. at first, because now I enjoy looking at it. It’s not very convenient when I’m around other people though…” she rambled thoughtfully.

I don’t say anything and I set her phone down on the pillow. I pry her legs open with my hand and I slip my fingers inside her underwear, teasing her wet labia, tracing her entrance, and then I lift my wet fingers up to ghost them tortuously over her swollen clit.

“You like looking at it?” I smirk down at her. She bites her lip harder, staring up at me in attempts to look innocent as she nods at me. Her eyes shut momentarily and she starts to wiggle her hips impatiently. “What happened to you? You were so shy when we started dating,” I tease, making a ‘v’ with my fingers. I slide my hand down to cup her pussy, her clit brushes against the sides of my fingers and she gasps softly.

“You made me a slut. A horny one,” she whines playfully.

“You’re not a slut,” I laugh, brushing my lips against her cheek.

“Have you seen how I dress now? I feel so hot when I’m with you,” she admitted breathily. I blush at her words and my stomach flutters.

“Wearing sexy clothes don’t make you a slut, angel,” I reassure her and push my middle finger into her. She feels warm. I can feel the texture of the inside of her against my fingers and it turns me on. She’s wet and I love the feel of it every time I pull my finger out of her. “I’m not gonna stop you from doing what you wanna do. Or tell you how to dress. Or call you a slut when you wear… sexy clothes to seduce me. Besides, you look hot as hell to me all the time. And if I make you feel hot enough to wear somethin’ that you usually wouldn’t wear, I think I’m doin’ a pretty damn good job at being your boyfriend.” She’s speechless, either from the way I curl my finger inside her or from the words I just spoke to her. “You are seriously horny though. What’s up with that? You act like I don’t fuck you enough.” I say that and I add another finger inside her.

I stare as her head rolls to the side. She bites her lip, arches her back, and her legs spread open some more. She’s so sexy without even trying.

“I dunno about that one,” she murmured, “I think you’re so fuckable when you do stuff for me like you’ve read my mind, when you say stuff like what you just said right now.. when you’re.. you,” I smirk and lean in for a quick kiss. “I want to feel you everywhere. All over me. All the time. I’ve never wanted for someone as badly as I want for you. I’ve never needed someone as badly as I need you. You make me feel. I want to… I dunno… match you when it comes to sex... You’re.. everything.”

There’s something about the way she says it that drives me crazy. I somehow understand everything she’s trying to say and I pull my fingers out of her.

I need her.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing her underwear to the side. I move up her body, but Sam starts to groan beside us. I whine quietly and drop my forehead on her shoulder, releasing her underwear.

I feel her deflate underneath me, too. She apologetically plays with my hair and kisses the top of my head. I melt into her, trying to steady my heart, cool down my body, and make my dick soft at the same time.

“Have you ever had a dream where you hide something and you wake up thinking: ‘what if it’s actually there?’ And you know it’s dumb but you just have a feeling it’s not, and then you’re disappointed because it’s not there when you look?” Her attempt to distract me works. I lift my head and I furrow my brows at her very specific question, but she’s looking at me earnestly so I resist the urge to laugh.

“I don’t think so, no,” I answered her question thoughtfully. After a few moments, as I continue to think about her question, I move off her and lean on my elbow while gazing down at her. “Why? Is there somethin’ you’re tryna tell me in a cryptic way?” I smirk and she pouts.

“I don’t do that,” she replies with uncertainty. I can tell she’s going over any possible situation where she’s been cryptic without even noticing.

“Uh, you do it sometimes,” I say with a laugh. She frowns and then ignores me. It makes me want to kiss her.

“Well, I’m trying to tell you my dream,” she explains. I’m about to tell her to continue, but Sam’s tossing and turning stops, and he speaks to us sleepily.

“You guys already awake?” Sam yawns, I look over my shoulder and I watch him stretch.

“Yeah,” I answer, then I lay back down on my back.

“Unfortunately,” she answers with a sigh.

She starts to get out of bed and I frown. I move over closer and wrap my arm around her waist, pressing kissing along her back. She chuckles and doesn't move away from when she bends down. I can hear her rifling through her duffle bag and I let her go when I feel her stop. I take her spot, lay on my stomach and bury my face in her pillow to inhale the smell of honey and jasmine from her shampoo.

I hear her jump slightly and I slide my arms under the pillow, lifting my head to watch her pull her jeans up. I smile dreamily as I watch her slide them over her ass. When she bends over, I’m a hundred percent sure she’s putting on a show for me. She rolls the bottom of her jeans upwards into a cuff so they don’t drag across the floor.

“Need to use the bathroom, Sam?” She asks him innocently, but she’s looking at me with mischief in her eyes. I smile and hide my face in the pillow so I don’t laugh or moan.

“I’ll use it after you, go ahead,” he tells her, ever the gentleman. She says a little ‘mmkay’ and I can hear her step closer to me. I peek at her and watch her lift the sheets over my body. She kisses the nape of my neck before she leaves and I resist the urge to act like a girl when she does it.

“Was she having a nightmare again?” Sam asks, his voice is laced with concern. I turn to look at him, the sun starts to light up the room, and I watch as he puts his shoes on. “That one with the axe killer was terrifying. She couldn’t sleep for days after it,” Sam reminisces with a grimace on his face.

“She didn’t have a nightmare,” I reassure Sam. I feel relief, the same as the sigh Sam releases when I respond, and I sit up.

Sam opens his laptop and his brows furrow as he stares at the screen. But his question takes me back to that night. I think about it like it just happened. I didn’t know what to do, neither did Sam, at first, because as soon as I’d touched her thrashing body, she’d fallen off the bed. She had a bruise on her cheekbone afterwards to show for it.

She never woke up when it happened, not until I picked her up off the floor. But even when she opened her eyes and saw me, the monster pulled her back into her dream and continued to chase her.

I remember Sam trying to help me as she tried to wiggle out of my grip, her dream bleeding into reality. She was strong for such a small woman and she slipped repeatedly from my grip and into Sam’s. We held her down on the bed instead and waited for her to wake up on her own.

I’d never been so afraid for her before. I’d never had my heart broken by her like that night when she immediately broke down crying upon waking up fully, holding onto me tighter than she’d ever held me before.

I cleaned the cuts on her legs and her back, I tended to the rope burn on her wrists. She was covered in bruises. I was grateful that she didn’t have anything broken or a deadly wound. But her mind was broken. It is broken. She was depressed for a few days after it had happened. I couldn’t help her in any way, but I was there for her the entire time.

It happens sometimes, more back then than it does now. She’d dream about something and it would break her. She falls apart and I help build her up—like she’s done for me a million times before. The dreams, nightmares, take a toll on her because she can’t do much in terms of helping out.

I feel like she’s a little more numb to it now. Like the depression got old. Like it’s just the same old emotions that have tried to drown her before. I’ve seen it with admiration and a bit of humour. The spite she feels when they come up after years of feeling controlled by it. I’ve seen her at her lowest and I’ve seen how resilient she can be—even on her own.

She tells me now when she doesn’t feel right, but she sounds more irritated by it than actually brought down. Sometimes she repeats or mocks whatever dark thought crosses her mind out loud and it’s half-funny. I still reassure her that it’s not true, just in case she’s pretending to be strong, just in case they’re sounding too true to be a lie.

If it’s really bad, I can tell because she goes mute. I let her cry once she opens up to me. I hold her and I let her feel it until it passes. There’s no point in trying to be positive sometimes or pushing down her feelings when they’re there for a reason. She lets it out and then she feels embarrassed because she wonders how she could think it was true. It’s a cycle, one I’m used to feeling myself just as much as she is.

It’s harder for me than it is for her to open up. I’m not used to it. God knows I want to tell her, but the words turn to a knot in my throat and my tongue gets heavy as they rest there. I’m afraid I’ll burden her, even when I try to reason with myself that I’ve never felt like she was a burden for having feelings, it doesn’t help. Because she’s herself and I am me. Still, I think she’s learned to understand me, even in silence.

I love her.

She steps out of the bathroom with a cute flowery top and a green cardigan after about six minutes and I smile at her. She gleefully twirls her way to me with a playful, “hey, Sammy. Morning, handsome,” and quickly kicks off the slippers she’s wearing to jump on the bed. Sam laughs quietly and goes into the bathroom now that she’s done.

I immediately bring her in for a kiss. My fingers tangle in her hair and I moan when her tongue prods at my lips. I can taste her minty breath when her soft tongue slides into my mouth. My hands fall to her waist; hers rise to my face. She kisses me passionately, her fingers thread through my hair and she holds me in place. She starts sucking my tongue into her mouth and I don’t even know what to call the sound that came out of me. I grab onto her tightly, his head feels fuzzy, my body is warm and tingly everywhere as she devours me. When her tongue runs along my top teeth, I have to resist the urge to bite her tongue but she begins to trace the roof of my mouth and pushes my mouth closer to hers with her hand on my jaw.

When she pulls away, she’s breathless. Like me. A string of saliva breaks between our mouths when she gets off me and I wish we could linger on it, but I’m too dazed to bring her back. I know my hair is messy and I lick my mouth to taste her again. My eyes are fixed to her movements, I know I look dumb as I continue to stare at her while she digs through her duffle bag.

Her hips sway when she walks across the room and she bends over the table slightly to open the curtain. She has a small pink bag, and takes out a green hand mirror to use as she gets ready. I inhale and try to compose myself while she fixes her eyebrows.

“Can we talk about your dream so I’m not horny all day?” I asked, getting out of bed to get ready, too. She laughs and wiggles her brows experimentally. She seems satisfied and then takes out a lash curler.

“Okay, yeah,” she agrees with a smile, but quickly glares at the lash curler. She inhales sharply before nervously bringing the metal thing to her eye. I can tell she’s freaking out with its proximity, and I grin when she has to take a deep breath after pulling it away before trying again.

I take my jeans out of my own duffle bag and start to put them on while we talk, and I ask, “so you dreamed you hid something and you think it’s real this time?” She curls her lashes at last, three times for a few seconds and then she moves on to the other eye. She bats her lashes at the mirror and then she stares down at her bag thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it’s in your duffle bag, but I didn’t put it there. I watched someone else do it and they told me to find it when I wake up,” she explains with a frown, then she frowns harder. I stare at the bag and open it up but I don’t see anything strange. “I’m gonna be mad, too, because I’ve hidden awesome stuff that I want to have—when I dream sometimes, and I’ve never found them.” I chuckle quietly and shake my head, but I start rifling through it to find whatever she could be talking about.

“Why is it important that you find it?” I ask curiously and dump everything inside onto the bed. She takes out a pink bottle and gets the wand out to place a few wet dots of pink on her lips. She presses them together to evenly spread the colour and then puts two smaller dots on her cheekbones.

“I don’t know yet,” she trails off and closes the tint. She then evenly rubs the hue over her cheeks. “He told me that once I get it, he can tell me,” she puts the small pink bag away in the duffle bag again and gets on the bed on her knees to look for it with me.

She carefully grabs my shirts, unfolds them and folds them perfectly again before putting them inside my duffle. She does it over and over with my help, until I grab a flannel and out falls a white rock shaped like a tiny white planet.

“Aha!” She exclaims, just as Sam steps out of the bathroom, confused.

“What’s that?” Sam asks, walking over to us to analyse what she grabs excitedly from the bed.

“It’s a rock,” she grins happily. She must forget that Sam doesn’t know what’s so important about it or why I have it in my stuff, so I explain it all to him as I finish folding the rest of my clothes.

“Is that like an infinity stone or something?” I ask when Sam starts inspecting the white rock. She breaks, a soft laugh lights up her previously serious face, and she’s looking at me with the brightest eyes. Sam, on the other hand, ignores me.

“I can do some research when we get to the bunker,” Sam offers, handing her the rock, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Dream-Dean told me to take it to Rowena and I have to tell her that she has to use it on me,” she explains to us. I narrow my eyes at her when she says that to Sam. She was completely vague about the person she dreamt of at first, but now she’s saying I gave it to her in a dream? Or at least some other version of me did.

“And what, you trust this… uh,” I laugh bitterly, jealousy makes my face hot. “Dream-Dean? Seriously? He could be using my body to manipulate you.” She opens her mouth and then she closes it. She’s watching me. I know she’s trying to find a way to explain without sounding like I’m right.

“He was in my dreams,” she explained slowly, “and he didn’t look like you do now. He was more of a uh, hot, aged up version of you.” That did not make me feel any better, but I couldn’t deny that it was funny and flattering. I don’t feel as hot anymore, not since I’ve aged, but knowing she thinks otherwise makes me flush.

“Hot? Am I not fucking hot right now?” I ask playfully, staring straight at her. She gets flustered and she starts to stutter as she begins to deny what I’m saying.

“No.. you are hot- Shut up,” she grumbles. Her face is red and I smirk at her.

“Guys, please,” Sam interrupted, “let’s focus.”

“Yeah, stop flirting, babe, we need to focus,” I shake my head with a fake frown. I turn to Sam and resist a smile, even though he lets out an irritated sigh at the two of us. I can feel her behind me, I feel a tingle of thrill run up my spine, but steady my voice when I ask, “how does something from your dream appear in our world?”

Sam must think it’s a good question because he turns to look at her with a curious face. I feel her hand land at the small of my back, I can feel her warmth spread over my body, and then it moves away, leaving me cold, but I don’t expect the way she swats my ass.

“Uh… quantum physics?” She says, unsure. That distracts Sam from the way I jump, he acknowledges it, but ignores me to focus on her words. My ass stings a little, but honestly, even I’m intrigued by her words. “Pfft, I don’t know, I don’t remember anything from my physics degrees,” she snorted sarcastically.

“My general knowledge of that is the Ant-Man stuff,” I tell her with a serious face. She smiles affectionately, amusement glitters in her eyes, and she forces herself to look away when Sam comes up with a plan.

“I can get another hunter to take over the case,” Sam suggests, “Rowena’s a call away, we can head back to the Bunker while she meets us there.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Is there anything special about this rock?” Sam askes Rowena, looking across the table as the redheaded witch uses her finger to read a few lines from the giant book. She picks up the rock, then tilts her head and her curls follow the movement.

“Well, it’s just Scolecite,” Rowena started, “but I can feel something very powerful inside.” Rowena takes the stone and brushes her thumb over the orb, then she carefully gazes past me. “Where did you say you got this from?”

I look behind me, and she has the cutest, wide-eyed look on her face when she looks up from the sandwich she’s eating. I bite my lip and smile at her, then I turn back to Rowena. “A… uh… alternative universe version of me gave it to her. Why?”

“It feels different,” Rowena pauses to think. “Everything in our world has a certain.. signature. This feels like it doesn’t belong to our world. It makes more sense to me now that I know it’s from another universe.” I nod slowly, trying to make something of that information. I wipe a hand down my mouth and I lean back, giving my attention to my favourite person in the whole world.

She passes the rest of her sandwich to me quietly and I eat it. It somehow tastes better than the one I made for myself, and I made both of them. She gazes at me as I eat, but she asks Rowena, “you can use it on me, though, yeah? It won’t be a problem?” We look away at the same time, Rowena looks amused and then she recollects herself.

“I can,” she confirms, then cautiously asks, “are you sure you want that?” It makes me worried suddenly. Was I really gonna let my girlfriend use some magical, dimensional rock we know nothing about just because some older version of me told her to?

“Should we not?” I ask earnestly.

“I’ve never done anything like… this,” Rowena admits, pushing the book slightly towards me, “it’s possible everything will go right, but it will be extremely painful. This rock is a vessel. It’s holding something massive and powerful inside, and I’ll be putting that inside her.” It makes me more nervous when she explains it like that. Is that why she didn’t want us to do research before, because she knew there were risks? I abandon the sandwich as it begins to make me feel sick, but I’m interrupted from asking more questions.

“Dean, it’s fine. All of you, please,” she said exasperatedly. “I’m going to do this and I’m not changing my mind. I’m sure and I can handle anything that happens, okay? And if I can’t, we can stop, but I’m trying again.” She was looking straight at me, but my eyes were glued to the sandwich that was making my stomach upset.

“I don’t get why you suddenly trust the guy,” I say quietly.

“It’s you, Dean, if I’m going to trust anyone, of course, it’s going to be you,” she replied steadfastly.

“Okay, but it’s not me.” I look at her and plead that she doesn’t go through with it.

“I know that you’re afraid, Dean, and you’re usually right about stuff like that, but I’m sure of this, okay?” She puts her hand behind my neck reassuringly. Her hand is cold and it makes me shiver, I shake my head.

“You’ve made up your mind, darlin’, that’s fine with me,” Rowena told her. I get up and I stare at everyone at the table in disbelief, but the only ones who look at me are Rowena who I know is curious about what will happen and my girlfriend who’s stubbornly made up her mind, but Sam doesn’t look at me, and I know he agrees with them.

“Seriously? We’re gonna do this knowing jack shit about this goddamn rock and what it’s gonna do to you when you use it?” I scoff and Rowena opens her mouth to explain something I won’t understand, but I turn away from them because, like them, I won’t be convinced otherwise.

I get to my room, but I don’t even know what to do with myself now that I’m doing nothing. I pace for a while and then I stand there. I look at the stuff that I keep in my room, the stuff I use to make these concrete walls feel like home. I don’t hear anyone behind me, I know they’re waiting for me to cool down before they come find me. I assume they’re preparing everything for the spell in the meantime.

I go to the box that sits on the floor at the foot of my bed and I kneel down to open it. Only I know what sits way at the bottom. One of the perks of doing my own shit without being told, is that I get to hide stuff because my girlfriend doesn’t need to clean my stuff when I’ve already done it.

I pull out an unsuspecting, small wooden box from the bottom. When I open it, three rings glitter in the light of my room, it makes me nervous. I feel butterflies in my chest as the white gold glares at me, the diamonds on the one in the middle sparkle almost magically. I can’t let her jeopardise everything, but I can’t bear how it’ll change us if I stop her. It’s one thing to date her, but marriage is a whole other story. It’s eternity, at least to me, and I don’t think anyone would want that from me.

I’m fucked up in ways I can’t change, in ways I can’t ever say. Unless it’s some random person I’ll never see again, some person I don’t go home to. I know I’ve hurt her by doing that. I itch for hunts if I go two weeks without one, but I complain about wanting a normal life. I have a drinking problem I don’t address. I get angry at the ones I love, sometimes it’s blown out of proportion on my part. I make stupid decisions for the people I love, end up destroying the world more than once, or I willingly give myself as a sacrifice. Sometimes it’s not even out of courage, sometimes it’s the microscopic size of my ego, the nonexistent love I have for myself, or the fact that I want to give up.

I hide my pain behind jokes and laughs. I’d rather leave and sabotage something good rather than risk being hurt. I’m trapped in a cycle I can’t break out of, not the way the love of my life has. I’m stuck in ways I was treated by my father, my enemies. I believe every hurtful word and I can’t see myself the way her and Sam do.

I like questionable shit. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes she thinks it’s hot, but I’m not fucking normal. I do questionable shit. Not just the hunting and the killing. I have blood on my hands, seeped deep into my soul and into my mind. I have nightmares and flashbacks that don’t go away.

I’ve whored myself out for money, for food, for Sam, because my dad asked me to on cases. I feel disgusted with myself sometimes. I wish I’d waited. Sex was great when it happened, I liked it, it took my mind off shit in my life, but afterward it’s horrible. When they left or I left, it was the grossest feeling. Even if I stay ‘till morning, it ain’t the same. As much as I’d like to say casual sex is healthy and normal. I can’t say that’s the case for me. It was worse when I started dating her. I felt unworthy, I don’t even think she cares about who I fucked in the past, but I do.

I know all these things are bad and I can’t fucking change it. I don’t know how to stop it, I don’t know where to even start with myself. I’m too fucked up, I think so, I can’t be fixed. I can’t possibly make her happy forever. I’ll fuck up along the road. She probably won’t forgive me. I never expect her to.

I hear a knock on my door and I close the box, casually putting it back inside before getting up. My knees creak and I feel old suddenly, tired, too. I turn around to face the woman I love most. She has the softest look in her eyes and her lips form the saddest smile.

I still wonder if she can see how ugly I am.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I tell her, sitting down on the box. Her eyes flicker down to my shoes and she sighs, then steps forward.

“I never expected you to,” she murmurs. She wraps her arms around my neck and I bury my face in her stomach.

We stay that way for a while. She feels warm and comfortable, my hands rest on her hips and my thumbs brush beneath the cropped, white shirt she’s wearing. Her skin is soft and warm, I know she appreciates Cas’ healing, choosing to erase any damage from monsters we’ve encountered. She smells sweet and expensive, the scent of her perfume lingers on her clothes, it’s familiarity makes me warm inside.

I pull away to look up at her. She watches me curiously, her eyes drift over my face, and she looks content as she does it. I take her wrists shyly, I kiss her pulse like she’s done to me a billion times before, and I quietly admit: “I just can’t trust him, I’m afraid you’ll get hurt or something worse. I can’t do it. I can’t let you do it without knowing everything...”

“I know that,” she tells me. There's a hint of irritation in her voice that hurts me, but then she gets down onto her knees and takes my face in her hands. “I can’t control how you feel, Dean, I can only control how I feel, and I need to do this.” She explains it to me as gently as she can, and while I can understand where she’s coming from, I just don't care. I’d lock her in the dungeon if it meant she wouldn’t do it, but I know that’s extreme. I know she’d hate me for it, I’d hate to be controlled that way again, too. That’s the only thing that stops me. “Dean, please be with me when I do it,” she begs softly.

I want to cry and break something out of frustration. She’s stubborn as hell, just as much as I am. Instead, I grab her face and I kiss her roughly. She moans lowly, surprised by the suddenness of my affection, but she returns my kiss. I pour into her how much I hate this idea, how much I need her to listen to me, how much I love her.

When I pull away, she chases my mouth to continue the kiss, and I can’t deny her. She matches my possessiveness when I press my lips against hers again. I can tell what she's trying to say with the way she effortlessly slides her tongue into my mouth, tugs my hair, and draws a deep grunt from my chest. Her kiss is intoxicating and I suddenly regret teaching her everything she knows.

I pull away with so much effort and I pant against her wet lips. Her nose brushes against mine when she pulls back further to gaze at me. She returns with a smile and kisses the corner of my mouth. “If something happens-”

“It won’t,” she interrupts me. She kisses my jaw and I tilt my head in the direction that she pulls my hair.

“But if it does… I love you,” I confess, my voice raspy. Her lips freeze on my pulse and I feel my body go rigid. I know I’ve told her before and she’s reciprocated, but I still, always fear she won’t return the sentiment.

“If you only say that when you think we’re gonna die, I’d prefer that you never say it at all,” she said quietly, pulling away from me. I watch her sit down with an unreadable expression on her face and I wonder what she’s thinking as my heart sinks into the very hands that rest openly on her lap.

“Guys, everything’s ready,” Sam says softly from the door. We both look up at him and we nod without saying a word. He hesitates, watches us carefully, his clever eyes gather information, and then he walks away.

I help her up off the floor and the air around us is thick. There’s a distance between us and I wonder how fucked up we are that I don’t even know how we got to this point when just a few seconds ago, I had my mouth pressed aginst hers. I know that the problem goes deeper than just what’s happening now, but I don’t know how I’ve managed to miss the stuff that bothers her.

I feel a little hope spark in my chest when her hand brushes against mine, even though it hurts, I hope she doesn’t take it from me. Her slim fingers tickle my palm and I clasp her hand fully inside my own, walking with her slowly to where Sam and Rowena were waiting in the library.

Everything was shifted around the place, once we got there. The tables were pushed against the shelves so that there was a big open area now where Sam placed a plastic sheet over the wooden floor, to allow Rowena to paint marks over it for the spell. The air smelled spicy and flowery, tickling my eyes, the smoke made the library grey, and I felt sick again.

“Okay, I need you to lay down in the centre and hold the rock right here,” Rowena demonstrated to her once we stepped inside the library.

She did as Rowena asked. I felt more and more anxious as the minutes passed, but soon, Rowena was chanting some magic words in another language while Sam inspected what was happening like a good little apprentice. If anything went wrong I was ready to jump in and stop whatever the hell kind of spell they were working on. It would be reckless, but I can’t stand the thought of her getting hurt.

Nothing happens for a few minutes, but the rock starts to glow in the centre of her chest. It begins to crack, pure white light breaks through, and I look over to her face to check that she’s alright, but she looks more sleepy than in pain. I can tell she’s not really here by the empty look in her eyes she gets when she’s bored or deep in thought.

Despite the lack of discomfort in her face, I can’t seem to relax. I just know something will go wrong, it always does. I see Rowena move back slightly and I look over at the witch with concern before looking back at my girlfriend who’s surrounded by the right of pure white cloud that looks like a whole galaxy of bright dust with gold and opal.

It’s not until Rowena begins to aggressively chant her spell that I visibly start to freak out. It reminds me of possession, the way the cloud of smoke starts to rise to get inside her. The white rock bursts and sends pieces of itself flying across the room before it dives right into the centre of her chest where the rock had been before.

I can hear her start to cry and there’s suddenly pulses coming from her. She scrambles up suddenly and I walk towards her to help her get out, but Sam stops me with his hand wrapped tightly around my elbow. I freeze and watch helplessly as she hunches over while she sits on her legs, as if her stomach was hurting.

“Don’t fight it,” Rowena announced in between incantations, “control the way you feel.” I can hear her sobs and I yank my arm from Sam’s grip with a glare. When I get closer, Sam doesn’t stop me. She shouts and I can tell she lets go completely. Suddenly it’s like the polarity reverses, it just stops and it sits there before it begins to move inside of her faster, and it ends just as quickly.

It’s quiet now. I gaze down at her cautiously and I step forward as the glow in her chest dims and I can see that she’s crying. Tears are running down her face, but she looks up at me blankly.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt?” I ask her tenderly, kneeling down. I take her wrists and I can feel the erratic beat of her heart. I search her eyes and she’s smiling now, like that didn’t just happen.

“No, I’m fine,” she laughs softly. I break a smile, but I’m still worried, and I cup her warm face in my hands, wiping tears from her red cheeks.

“You’re crying,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. She pulls away and takes my hand to examine my wet thumbs. She looks at them with confusion and then wipes her wet eyes, seeing for herself that she’s definitely crying.

“Those aren’t my tears,” she tells me. Before I can say anything, I see the floor beneath us suddenly transform into hexagonal shapes, showing small places I’ve never seen before—like photographs.

“Dean!” I hear Sam shout, but then the woman in my arms yelps when it starts to fall apart underneath us and we fall through. There’s nothing around us when we're falling and we cling to each other. Suddenly, there’s another hexagonal thing in the middle of the dark abyss and we start to fall through it—inside a building instead. I’m certain we’re gonna die.

But as we get a few centimetres above ground, I tighten my grip around her small body and we stop. There’s no impact, no pain, no sound. I open my eyes and I see the marble floor as it grazes my nose and then we fall the last distance with no problem.

“See? Nothing bad happened, you are wrong sometimes, Dean.” I look up, away from the girl underneath me whose head is tilted up towards the familiar voice with a smile on her face. I see myself. Definitely an older version of me with stubble—almost a beard—and longer hair. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and a black coat. It looks fucking awesome, but I think this guy was flirting with my girl in her dreams, so I glare at him instead.

“Who are you? What is this place? And what did you do to my girlfriend?” The guy only laughs, he’s not looking at me, he’s looking down at her. She’s looking at him like she’s his biggest fan in the world, but under the silent stare it’s like there’s some inside joke I’m not a part of and I feel so irritated.

“I’m you, from a future that doesn’t exist anymore,” he starts, finally looking at me, “this place is.. well, mostly I watch the multiverse, I can see all the timelines, make sure no one’s in danger. The most important job is preventing God from doing what he did before.” I look around at the room we’re in. The walls are black—architecturally speaking, everything is geometric. The lights are dim and there are destroyed statues along the walls in the hallway. The floor is dark red, shiny, but only acts as a rug would. The ceiling is tall, almost endless, and I’m sure there is actually no ceiling at all. “As for what we did to her..'' he trails off and bites his lip. “Long story short, we gathered your variants before they were killed off by Chuck and we put their souls in the rock. When you absorbed it, it made you powerful, not a soul-bomb like Dean. I’m talking about your dreamwalking abilities,” he explains to her.

“We who?” I ask. He’s about to answer, but I’ve got a million questions running through my mind the longer he talks and the longer I’m here. “How many variants, or whatever, is that, then? Also, what do you mean she’s more powerful?” She reaches out for my wrist and I look down at her, but I can’t calm down, I can’t slow down. I have no idea where we are or why they want her here. “And what does Jack think about all this?”

The older me laughs and shakes his head at me. It pisses me off. He’s handsome, but I’ll punch him anyway.

“Come on, I’ve got a meeting soon,” he told us, then started walking down the seemingly endless hallway. The doors opened strangely, one door slid upwards, but behind it was another door that sunk down into the floor. When we stepped outside, everything was black, there was a faint white light in the distance and the body of what looked like a leviathan. Not the ones we know, but the things without a human meat suit.

“Is this the future or something?” I ask. It’s all terrifying. I look down and see there’s a whole other level, and it’s all connected like a maze or a labyrinth. The floor we walk on to the next pyramid-like building is an opaque crystal structure that I know is thick as hell, but I’m scared shitless anyway. There’s no wind blowing, not even a sound, but when the older version of me speaks, his voice bounces strangely around us.

“Uh… see that bright light? That’s the beginning of time, all of this here, is the end. We’re technically in between,” he clarifies.

“So… wait, she can time travel?” I ask, somewhat delighted at the thought.

“Yeah, dreams are the easiest way to time travel,” he chuckles, “I use Baby to time travel. It’s my personal, sexy, TARDIS. Thanks to Jack, but he regrets that now.” He laughs heartily at that and I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty jealous of the fact that he’s upgraded to a time travelling Impala. “Anyway… uh, there were only twenty six other variants of you,” he tells her. The small number shocks me, but I don’t dwell on it for long because she doesn’t seem phased. I’ll have to talk about that with her later. “And that portal you fell through? That’s what your abilities do now. When Jack would use your abilities, you could see them like picture frames in your mind, but now you can access them at any point, whenever you want.”

I look above and I can see there’s still more monuments above us somehow floating in the air, or maybe they’re being held by another structure, but I’m not sure. If we weren’t outside, risking our lives and falling off the walkway, I’d be amazed by this place. Whatever it is.

“As for what Jack thinks of this place,” he laughs heartily and looks at us. I can see sadness in his eyes, he can’t hide his emotions from me, but I don’t think he cares about that because he doesn’t look away. “I think I annoy him so much he doesn’t even care what I do anymore, besides he can’t destroy this place. It’s God-proofed. As for you, he won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I don’t understand why you want me to be powerful,” she wonders out loud to him after a while. We’re standing by another door, this one opens like elevator doors, and the room is brighter. There’s gold, sparkling gems, and giant jewels scattered on the floor.

“I just wanted to find a way to keep you safe indefinitely,” he told her with a shrug. I pause for a moment, maybe he’s not as bad as I made him out to be. This whole time I was busy thinking he was endangering her, but he might actually be trying to keep her safe. I still think there’s something romantic going on, considering that it’s me, considering that he’d go through all that trouble to keep her safe. I wouldn’t do all that for just anyone. “I’m always checking on you, making sure you’re safe. I honestly spend so much of my time focusing on you instead of the whole multiverse,” he admitted bashfully. “I don’t think that’s a problem, but.. I think I’m in love with you enough, and you’ve already got your Dean. Also… I have people depending on me to focus on the job, which is way better than hunting, honestly,” he laughed nervously.

I narrowed my eyes at him for admitting that. He doesn’t seem phased because I look over and she’s blushing, trying to act normal. She’s never had a reaction like this to any other man who’s hit on her, but now that it’s someone who has my face, she’s acting the way she acts with me when I do it. I know she can’t control it, it’s me after all, but it makes my chest burn with jealousy.

“Listen, dude, I get that you’re all fucking awesome with your costumes and running this place, but stop hitting on her, okay?” I ask sarcastically with a tight smile.

“Dean,” she scolds me. She grabs my sleeve, tugs lightly, and she looks so fucking adorable right now, it’s making it hard for me to stand my ground.

“No, okay,” I groan exasperatedly, tugging away from her. “What the fuck, guys? I mean… seriously. Nothing in our lives is normal, but this shit is literally- I don’t even know what to make of any of this! It’s fucked up, you’re in love with her when you’ve never met her? What the hell?” I tug at my hair and then I slide my hands tiredly down my face.

She blinks up at me like I just told her the most insane conspiracy theory and I sigh. Her face softens and she hugs me instead of saying something. She nuzzles her face into my chest and I hear her breathe me in. Her arms are tight around my waist and I finally return her embrace, I kiss the top of her head, and my entire body releases the tension I’ve been keeping inside me since we started talking to Rowena.

“I get it. It’s me and you don’t even trust yourself,” the other Dean begins, “but when we sleep, we dream about each other's lives. We dream of her.” She pulls away from me and I force myself to look away to consider his words. “All of us. In every universe, every version of you. We see how close to happily ever after you are with the kindest, loving, most caring woman to exist in the entire multiverse. We want what you have, as fucked up as everything else in your life is, you’ve got this one good thing. And you do so much to fuck it up. You don’t have to trust us, but trust that she’ll stay with you.”

I think quietly to myself. As much as it irritates me, I should put myself in her shoes, too. She has to deal with hundreds of girls flirting and throwing themselves shamelessly at me and she never makes a big deal out of it. It’s because she trusts me that she doesn’t give a shit what they say or do. She jokes with me when they give me their numbers, claiming she’ll give them a call when she needs someone to babysit me. If they flirt, she’ll teasingly repeat it and bother me about it for the rest of the day. Whatever it is, she laughs and makes the best of something people would feel generally insecure about. That’s because at the end of the day, she’s the one I’m sleeping next to, she’s the one I’m waking up to, she’s the one who spends every second of every day at my side.

Nobody can compete with that.

The sound of doors opening thankfully breaks the silence. I don’t have to admit he’s right, but I look down at her in my arms, and her eyes tell me she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Sir, I’ve been look-” another voice that sounds like mine breaks us apart and I’m only half-surprised to see myself wearing that stupid Ken Doll suit Zachariah dressed me in for kicks to prove a stupid fucking point. “Oh…” Like the older version of me, he gawks at the woman who’s standing in front of me.

“Dean, this is.. well, this is ridiculous actually, I don’t gotta introduce us,” older Dean chuckles. The younger looking version of me has a cart with cardboard boxes and he continues to bring them towards us. “Also, don’t call me sir, we’ve talked about this,” he adds good-naturedly with a smile and a shake of his head.

“Uh, sorry. Hi,” Ken-Doll steps closer to her and, of course, my woman is on cloud nine. “Wow, you’re way more beautiful than I dreamed,” he breathes out. I puff my cheeks trying to hold back saying something snarky in response. But all self-control nearly leaves my body when she fucking giggles shyly and rubs the back of her neck.

“Okay!” Older Dean did something before I did, and the spell between Ken and my lover broke. “Did you get the files for Lush?” He asks Ken-Dean, giving me the side-eye, as if to tell me to cool down. I swear every version of me has gotten on my nerves without me having to meet any of them.

“Yeah… uh, yes, we’ve got her background, which universes she actually exists in, her status, what’s she’s currently doing, what she can do… y’know, the basics,” Ken informs him. Older me takes off the top of one of the boxes, sifts through files, and nods his head proudly.

“Great, so the team you’re leading? It’s all good?”

“Yes, we’ll be focusing on this case for the time being, keeping an eye on her,” he discloses, “we all agree she could be a danger to the timeline.” Both me and her are completely absorbed in the conversation they’re having. I’m curious about whatever the fuck they’re doing and why all those words sound so badass in a sentence together.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

“Right, the meeting, let’s walk together?”

Older Dean gave me a tight smile and I followed them both with my quiet girlfriend by my side. I should relax, there’s no harm in being in love with someone so long as they don’t make a move and I have nothing to be afraid of when it comes to her. She’s still standing next to me, her hand finds my wrist and I tug her into my side. She stumbles and laughs softly, letting me put my arm around her shoulders while she wraps her arm around my waist.

In just a few minutes, we walk by a whole bunch of me’s wearing soldier-like uniforms, they’ve all got numbers across their backs, a logo of a shooting star with the words ‘THE MONUMENT’ on their chest. Despite having been serious, they cracked upon seeing her, too. Their faces carried little smiles after passing her and her cheeks were red from all the attention she was getting.

“So, do we get chosen by Jack or how does this whole thing work?” I ask, trying to get her attention away from the hot soldiers. At least I know she’s attracted to me in every shape and style.

“Jack has no power here,” the older me reassured us again. “Typically, after the variants lose everything or once they die, they’re given the option to come here… we’re never surprised that they prefer to be here, surrounded by the rest of us, getting a chance to be closer to you.”

“Can’t be easy facing each other, knowing how you are,” she says astutely. I was thinking the same exact thing.

“Yeah, well… you changed all of that for us,” this time Ken spoke up. She looks up at them attentively and a little smile tugs at her lips.

There’s another me leaning against the wall by the door we’re about to go into. He’s smoking a cigarette and he’s covered in tattoos. I can see them peek out of the neck of his t-shirt, both arms are covered in sleeves of art, and he smirks as soon as he sees her. I roll my eyes, I know what to expect from every version of me that I see. Especially if they feel some sort of gratitude towards her for undoing all the horrible things they were put through against their will.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he praised. He even has the audacity to take her chin between his fingers and angle her face in his direction. She averted her gaze shyly, but I can tell she melts into him, especially when he brushes his thumb gently across her lip. He bites his own and I think about how lucky they are that she loves them because they’re alternative me’s. “At least one of us got lucky.” He let her go gently and took another drag of his cigarette before getting out of the way to get inside the room with us.

“Which Dean is that?” She asks quietly, but I can sense a bit of excitement in her tone. I squeeze her against my side as a warning, but she snorts at me.

“The original Dean Chuck had in mind,” older me replied, holding the door open for a few other ‘variants’ of myself to enter after us.

“Hot,” she hummed flagrantly.

“Sweetheart,” I beg quietly. It makes both the older and younger me laugh.

“Dean, it’s the truth, but I’m messing with you,” she laughs, too.

“You’re unbelievable.” Still, I can’t stop the smile on my face.

“You’d do the same if you were in a room filled with a bunch of other variants of me,” she reasoned, dragging me over to where there were empty seats. It wasn’t next to the older me, or Ken me, or tatted me. Next to her was a variant of me with a beard, a plaid neckerchief like a cowboy, wearing a tactical vest. Next to me was an alternate version of me wearing a black t-shirt with a firefighters’ logo.

Now that I’m sitting here looking at every variant of me around the hexagonal table, I start to realise this is literally a room filled with her sex fantasies of me. I can recall having worn most of these costumes when we have roleplayed for sex. She would dress up in something sexy for me, too, it was our thing.

I leaned towards her as the older me started talking about that Lush chick Ken me had been talking about. She leans into me to listen closely to what I have to say. “D’ya think they’ve seen us have sex?” I whisper discreetly. I notice the way her eyes widen and pink starts to glow over her cheeks. “Maybe… think they’ve had a little love session with their hand thinking of you? I don’t doubt it..” I whisper crudely. She shifts in her seat and I feel so smug now, I grab her rolling chair and I pull her closer.

“I bet they’re always thinking of you. Even after bangin’ some random chick, they wish it was you in their bed. They’re probably single on purpose, miserable with anyone that isn’t you. I would be. I’d never be able to settle down with anyone as long as I dream of you. I’d be happier alone than with some girl I like halfway knowing my whole heart and soul belongs to you and you alone. Ever across the entire multiverse. I’d choose you.” I press my lips to her warm cheek, then I let my mouth move over hers to kiss her properly. She tilts her head in my direction and accepts my tongue into her mouth when I tease the seam of her lips.

“Dean,” I hear older me’s voice. I pull away from her mouth and I lick my lips, staring down at her as she tries to recompose herself. Everyone is staring at us and I know they’re definitely me because they don’t even look away when I catch them.

“I’m not sorry about that,” I say smugly, “you all wanna do it anyway.” I feel her hand squeeze my thigh and I stay quiet, but so does the rest of the room. After a few minutes of silence, older me starts to talk again about a plan of action in case Lush gets out of hand. I lean forward again and I ask her one last thing, “you want them to fuck you, don’t you?”

She blushes harder somehow and she takes the cold glass of water in front of her to cool down. I don’t need her to answer verbally, her body language is enough to tell me just what she’s thinking. My brain starts to imagine ways I could fulfil her fantasy when the bearded me talks to her and asks, “did the boss tell ya what he did, then?”

He appears more thoughtful about the question he asks than like he wants to gossip. The question piques my interest and I lean towards him. He’s watching us closely, there’s no jealousy or envy, his presence is just full of love and respect like every other me has exuded since we’ve crossed paths. “‘S nothin’ we all wouldn’t do,” he defends, almost as if he thinks I’m trying to get proof that this place is too good to be true. Like a true me, he suspects I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.

“What did he do?” I asked, hoping I didn't sound urgent. The three of us lean in as subtly as we could to hear each other.

“He disintegrated his whole timeline by saving you.”

➥ the love letter collection : part two

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @kellynickelss @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @jessllianaquilesrolonworld @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @laylaackles @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

jacklesversebingo23 masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester x reader #jacklesversebingo23 #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural

[wunderschon-lieblich]

Fuck It I’m Not Done

Biker headcanons for the AC Women that torment my brain

@kassandras-one-braincell you’ve broken me with this tbh I'm in shambles (affectionate) OG post here also NSFW warning this is a no minors post (or at the very least stop at the warning gdi)

Soma is sophisticated and expensive. Not gonna say too much here since I went into more detail previously but~ Imagine vintage restored bikes that are shiny and perfect all lined up in a pristine garage space with polished tool boxes that are filled with all her necessities to work on them and keep them gleaming. Professionally photographed, framed posters of you posed with her bikes adorn the walls of the space. She even picked lingerie to match each bike!

She only really rides one or two of her collection regularly, the majority are mostly for show. I imagine she’d have a cruiser with a good passenger seat on the back so she can take you on long scenic rides to beautiful locations, and you can bet your ass she’d have it shipped overseas on your vacations so she can take you all over the world on it. Soma is all class and polish, so her riding gear would definitely reflect that. High quality leather and helmets with coms will keep the two of you safe, comfortable and connected on your rides. She would probably have matching riding suits custom made for the two of you. I could just see her doing that.

Kassandra as the cocky performance rider. She’d have pick up lines for days, all the innuendo about taking you for a ride and how she knows how to handle curves. She’d chat you up good, and land a date for that same weekend.

She’d show up with an extra helmet and jacket for you, and she’d make sure it was all properly adjusted. In the og post about this concept, it says that you kiss her right when the helmets come off. I agree, and I’d say that you want to kiss her the moment she slides the helmet onto you and starts doing up the chin straps. For anyone who’s never worn a motorcycle helmet, they don’t have a clip like one for a bicycle would, it’s a strap that gets looped through two d-rings, and it’s kinda tricky at first. So, imagine: gazing up at her while she’s looking all intently at you with those gorgeous dark eyes, her fingertips working the thin strap quickly and efficiently on muscle memory. When she’s done she puts her hands on either side of it to check that it’s snug on your head and looks into your eyes for a moment longer than necessary. It’s electric.

When you arrive and she takes hers off, you’re still kind of fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp. She notices and hooks a finger through the loop, giving it a quick tug to undo it and free you of the helmet, whole time she's got that sexy little smile on her face. She takes it off of you and sets it on the seat behind you, arms reaching around your body to do so. At that moment you’re looking up at her and she’s so close. You can’t stop yourself from leaning in and up on your toes to steal a kiss. She’s a little surprised but doesn’t falter about kissing you back. Her hands rest so naturally on your waist. It’s short and sweet and leaves you both giddy with butterflies.

Your first date with her would be something sweet and romantic like taking you to a fancy park or perhaps a botanical garden. You’d walk around holding hands for hours and she’d be all chuffed that you gave her a kiss upon arrival to the date location. It would make her feel so confident and bold, wrapping her arms around you and allowing the affection to flow naturally. I think she would feel nervous about it being too much too soon but you just lean into it and look at her with stars in your eyes and it shuts that doubt right up. Very much a uhaul lesbian relationship in this case you would just fall so completely for each other and be comfortable together immediately. First date lasting three days kind of love story.

Eivor does motocross competitively and is a big name in the game. She also does trail riding but it’s more for fun so not her focus. She’s definitely the most reckless rider of the bunch but takes protective precautions seriously, bc she knows that she loves to go fast, push limits and pull stunts. However, if anyone else is on the bike with her she’s much more cautious and safe with her driving. She'd def pop some wheelies with you on the back if you were ok with it.

In this au I think she’d have a modest but comfortable house pretty far out of town on a decent chunk of land. She’d have a practice track built in her backyard with a trail looping around the edge and through the woods of her property. She’d do laps every day to stay at the top of her game, and just to enjoy the ride.

Her garage would be well organized but not shiny and fancy like Soma’s. Hers is functional and well used, in a separate building from the main house. Very Dad's Garage vibes in there I think. She’d love working on her own bikes, but I think she’d leave her competition bike’s maintenance to her trusted pro mechanic Gunnar.

Now I mentioned in my last reblog how I imagine they’d all have pics of you on their motorcycles, and that they’d have very different vibes.

Soma and Kassandra would display them like a trophy. Not publicly, but up on the walls of their own spaces. Eivor? She’s possessive. She wouldn’t want to have a photographer ruining the intimacy of your photos no matter who it was.

(here's where it gets nsfw)

Eivor would ride the two of you out to a nice secluded part of her property. A wooded area where she has a picnic table set up. You’d be all wrapped up in her riding jacket and pants, underneath them would be a pretty little number she picked for you, something simple and sexy like a matching bra and panty set with some lace. (I think Eivor is a bit too simple minded to prefer elaborate lingerie. Just show her something hot that she knows how to remove without finding a thousand clasps please and thank you)

She’d prop the bike up on its stand and use a Polaroid camera to take the pictures. The first ones you’re in the matching set with her jacket and your boots still on, straddling the bike with your hands on the bars as if you’re driving. She gets multiple angles, from the side so she can appreciate your legs, from the front so she can admire your breasts peeking out from the opening of her jacket.

The whole time she’d praise you saying “that’s a good girl, posing so pretty for me, now lean back let me see you- ah just like that, gods you’re perfect” she’s such a sexy photographer. By the time she’s done you’re about ready to hump the seat til you cum and she’s so horny she’s breathing manually. She knew that would happen, of course, and wore a strap under her jeans for the occasion.

After your photo shoot, she takes the dildo out of her harness and slides it back inside you, then helps you put her clothes back on over your underwear. She has you ride back with her to the house while you’re stuffed full like that. Every bump and jolt makes you whimper and dig your fingers into her. It’s not a long ride but you’re ready to rip every shred of her clothes off by the time you’re back

The pictures are kept in a cabinet by her work bench, there’s a few on the inside of the door held up with magnets, mostly the first few from the session, where you’re still partially clothed and gazing at the camera with your pretty, sultry eyes. The rest are tucked away in a small black photo album for her eyes only, the last few depict you laid back on the seat, bra gone, one of her strong hands cupping your breast. You’re holding your panties to the side, wet cunt stuffed full of her strap, your kissed bruised lips are parted in a moan. She keeps that one very secret, and takes it with her whenever she has to travel without you.

anyway now that you know I'm a total whore for this concept

This is my first time posting a full on hc set like this lemme know what you think and read the og post if you haven't yet! It sent me spiraling into madness <3

#eivor x reader #kassandra of sparta x reader #soma x reader #ac headcannons #biker au #I don't write much be nice pls #this is meant to be written in a very casual tone and style #im trying really hard to not be a horrendous perfectionist

[feyresdaughter]

A Court of Wings and Ruin, chapter 76:

It's getting good now

There were hands at my face, turning me, touching me. “Are you hurt, are you—” Rhys’s face was battered— bloody. His hands were still tipped in talons, his canines still elongated. Barely out of that beast form. “You— you freed her—”

First of all, sexy. Second, he's barely in his Fae form again and the first thing he asks is if FEYRE IS HURT

“We have a problem,” Varian murmured, pointing behind us. We followed the line of his finger. To where that fissure in the world within the shards of the Cauldron … It was growing.

Oopsies, the world is ending

I had broken it. I could remake it again. I ran for the Book, flinging open the pages. But the gold was engraved with symbols only one being on this earth knew how to read, and she was gone. I hurled the damn thing into the void inside the Cauldron. It vanished and did not appear again. “Well, that’s one way to try,” Rhys said.

I know what's coming soon but this is funny

Rhys studied the ruins. “Amren said you were a conduit.” I nodded. “So be one again.” - “What?” He looked at me like I was the insane one as he said, “Remake the Cauldron. Forge it anew.” - “With what power?” - “My own.” - “You’re— you’re drained, Rhys. So am I. We all are.” - “Try. Humor me.”

RHYSAND NO

“That’s the spirit.” Humor danced in his eyes. The dead lay around us

And you'll be one of them soon honey pls

Made and un-Made. From a distant corner of my memory, my human mind …I remembered a mural I had seen at the Spring Court. Tucked away in a dusty, unused library. It told the story of Prythian. It told the story of a Cauldron. This Cauldron. And when it was held by female hands …All life flowed from it. I reached mine out, Rhys’s power rippling through me.

SHE'S THE MOTHER REINCARNATED THAT'S HER HANDS

I love you, he whispered into my mind. The first crack healed. Then the second. I felt him tremble behind me, heard his wet rasp of breath. I tried to turn— I love you, he said again. The third and final crack began to heal over. His power began to sputter. But it kept flowing out.

Rhys don't Rhys please don't do this to me Rhys please

I loosed a shuddering breath. We had done it. We had done— I turned. It took me a moment to grasp it. What I saw.

But as I breathed in— It wasn’t there. That thing that rose and fell with each breath. That echoed each heartbeat. The mating bond. It wasn’t there. It was gone. Because his own chest … it was not moving. And Rhys was dead.

BECAUSE HIS OWN CHEST WASN'T MOVING RHYS WAS DEAD

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #feyre archeron #feyre archeron supremacy #feyre cursebreaker #feyre darling #high lady feyre #feyre #feyre acotar #feyre supremacy #pro feyre #rhysand acotar #high lord rhysand #rhysand #rhys acotar #feyre x rhysand #rhys x feyre #feyreandrhysand #feysand #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #varian acotar

[beseojun]

✰ Next Gen -  seojun performs hug with @behaneul @bedohyun @sarangbe & @renxbe ✰

the sinking feeling is pushing itself back onto seojun as he realizes that this will be the last time that he’ll get to do this. the last time he’ll be performing on stage with others like this and the last time he might see some of these people unless they keep in contact with him. it was all so bittersweet and even though many interactions were awkward at first, seojun knew he'd miss it all.

he had been practicing everything he could for hug, pretty sure his mind was just filled with the song and dancing at this point. though when he practices my turn again, it feels like a refresher and brings him back to the first episode. the choreography is just like he remembered, glad to do it again.

his confidence is rising the more he practices alongside his group. he’s sure they are all going to do well and finish off strong. sure he might be hopeful for it but he knows that they’d be able to put out a lasting impression on anyone who watches their performance no matter the outcome. though his mind is bringing up those thoughts that he could fail and not get to pursue his dream after today. sure that was a possibility and a big one in his eyes but he’d just brush up on his skill and hope for a chance to audition in the future if given the chance.

hug wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with since he has done dance covers that had the same concept but he always found himself going for songs that are more sexy subconsciously. not that he thinks that about himself but he just likes the flow those songs have. it feels almost like second nature with how much he has practiced and he hopes that it all pays off. he’s gonna make sure he stands out and gives the judges something to remember.

besides since the fans voted for this song, he was going to make sure he showed out. the perfectionist in him wasn’t going to let him put on a mediocre performance.

when the day of the performance comes, his mind is already reeling with everything possible. though once in the outfit for the performance and his makeup is finished off, it all sinks in again and he has to make sure he doesn’t cry about it all. he’s usually pretty sensitive and emotional though he is not letting himself cry, not wanting to mess up the makeup the stylists had worked so hard on. the waterworks could wait. he had to perform and do his best. that’s all that mattered. maybe he’d go to haneul after and let himself finally tear up.

taking a deep breath as they stand outside of the stage, he take a deep breath and exhales it a bit. it calms him down at least which he is grateful for. feeling his hand being almost gripped onto, he gave a soft reassuring smile to haneul. he knew his best friend was nervous but they’d do this together and get through it.

those feelings he was worrying about seem to leave once he’s on stage which he’s glad for. getting into his starting position, he feels his body moving from the muscle memory once the song starts. since the song is more lighthearted and cute, seojun lets himself show off a cuter side and sends winks as well as adding a bit of aegyo when he can, though not too much to deter him from performing.

once he had to rap, he let himself flow into the words. he knew he wasn’t the best rapper but he feels he delivered his lines well enough which he’s impressed by. maybe he’ll decide to perfect his rapping after all this just to make sure he can do whatever a company wants of him.

that’s over now though, his mind isn’t focused on rapping and the smile he had just seemed to grow as the performance went on. each of them put in their all and even though there might be a little fumbling but it’s recovered quickly. it was a new song so he expects that even with himself a bit.

hearing the song fading as it ends, he gets into the ending position along with the others. he can’t help but hold his face in his hands as he squishes his cheeks a bit though once the camera focuses on him for his ending fairy, he’s throwing out finger hearts as his dimpled smile shows. he can cringe about this later for now, he’s dealing with the adrenaline of the performance and being giddy about everything.

seojun excitedly makes sure to tell his teammates that they did well, flashing smiles at each of them. now it would be up to the judges verdict to see what they thought about their performance. he just hopes it goes well.

#be:ngs1p6 #이서준 — ✰ / solo #( wc: 820 )

[filminvasion]

Top Gun: Maverick Movie Review

It dawns on you watching “Top Gun: Maverick” that Tom Cruise really is America’s greatest living action star. Has anyone been doing it better, or longer than he? It’s been..well since the first “Top Gun” in 1986, a film that’s sexier than it is great, but oh how sexy it is, and how inspirational it’s been to countless clones as well. But none of those have the secret weapon- Cruise is a force and he’s been doing honor by his legacy for 30+ years. 

He’s back as Maverick (real name not important), the Navy Captain who is now called back to Top Gun Academy for a super complex mission regarding bombing a uranium plant. Only surprise is he is not expected to fly the mission but train a group of hotshot young cadets, one of which is Rooster (Miles Teller), the son of Maverick’s tragically deceased pal Goose,  and Mav feels protective of the young man, to Rooster’s chagrin. 

Cruise often gets criticized for being more action star than actor, which is why the performance he gives here feels among one of his most refreshing in a while. This Mav is now close to being a wash-out. He’s not who he once was and he’s haunted by the memories of those he’s lost. There’s more of a middle ground for him now between rule-breaker and responsibility as he tries to penetrate the egos of the youngsters while proving to himself he can handle a different role. 

That’s what casts many of the young actors here more as subordinates than adversaries for Mav and in that you don’t get as many stand-outs among the crew. Glen Powell, Jay Ellis, and Monica Barbaro play cocky characters who have a more one-dimensionality to them than anything but if anyone makes out beautifully in this movie it’s Teller, who gets his best role in a while, and goes toe to toe with Cruise better than anyone. 

Another key stand-out here is Joseph Kosinski, the director. He, and his cinematographer Claudio Miranda, do Tony Scott and the first movie proud- there’s a dizzying array of speed, aerial feats, and the pushing of human endurance while in these planes, captured with exquisite eye for coherence and done with great tension, whether it be in scenes of teacher imparting wisdom to his students or the behind enemy lines shoot-out and escape which ends the film. This is edge of your seat stuff. 

But Kosinski also knows how to rev up a fan’s engine. Whether it be Mav going all renegade in the opening moments with Kenny Loggin’s “Danger Zone” playing over it, or a shot for shot re-do of Mav riding his motorcycle alongside a Jet taking off, or a scene of R&R on the beach as the guys play some nerf football (in place of volleyball). He balances these out with a more serious minded film- one that never gets better than when Val Kilmer shows up for one scene in a bittersweet and wonderfully realized moment between adversaries turned friends. 

Jon Hamm also does nice work, playing not so much a villain but more a Commanding Officer who doesn’t think much of Mav, while Ed Harris just seems wasted in one scene. Then there’s Jennifer Connelly, playing the love interest, and the film tries to establish a history between her and Mav but I don’t think it ever rises to the level of interesting. Plus the movie just denies us another flowing, music video type sex scene and if you’re gonna do that, why even establish a romance to begin with? 

Overall, though, this is a movie that does right by what came before. It’s nostalgia that feels more reverential, never falling back on “wink wink” inside jokes, and it also finds a way to progress the story forward and maybe even provide better closure to certain things. It’s a legacy sequel that brings justice to the very words and at its heart is still Tom Cruise, doing his damndest, as actor and producer, to make sure this movie provides. Still the perfectionist, still the TopGun. There aren’t many more like him.   

If you like this, why not join my facebook group for more. Much appreciated! https://www.facebook.com/groups/1539592586087385

#maverick #top gun #top gun maverick #tom cruise #movie #movies #film #films #Film Review #film reviews #miles teller #val kilmer #movie review #Movie Reviews

[pleasantanathema]

Pleasant’s Writer Recs!

I’ve gotten a few asks in my inbox over the past few weeks asking me for writer recs, so I thought the best way to do this was to compile a list of my fav authors on tumblr and rec my favorite fic of theirs! A lot of these amazing authors are moots—I’m very lucky to call many of them close friends. This list could be much longer, and I could go on for days about every single author, but I’ll try to keep it brief. Most all of these authors, like myself, write 18+ only content. Hopefully this can be a useful tool for authors and readers alike looking for amazing fanfic 💕

@bakatenshii | Angel is so phenomenal with her writing that I almost can’t put her style and amazing ability into words (but I’ll try). Angel’s work is beautiful, masterful, full of poetry, elegance, and smut that will all leave you gasping. Fav Fic: Blitz [Ushijima x Reader]

@blahkugo | Sunnt, Thunnth, Sunny, whatever you call her, she is brilliant. No one writes Tsukishima quite like she does. She is beyond creative and her writing style flows like the sexiest water, it’ll make you thirsty and quench your aches. Fav Fic: Tower [Tsukishima x Reader]

@deathcab4daddy | Tay is all about details, details, details. She fills in every gap and paints gorgeous, sexy pictures and situations for the reader to feel immersed in. Fav Fic: Cerulean Blue [Akaashi x Reader]

@dymphnasprose | Dymphna is all about fun, sex, and slowly filling out her holy bible of smut. She’s amazing at creating realistic sub/dom relationships and her smut almost always comes with a healthy dose of build-up. Fav Fic: Green Scrunchies [Ukai x Reader]

@enjifuckersupreme | Ketsl reigns supreme over pure, unadulterated porn. They are phenomenal at making me the reader wet, and every fic is crafted with so much care. Enji fuckers should bow down at their feet, no one loves and writes Enji like Ketsl. Fav Fic: Attitude Adjustment [Enji x Reader]

@hisoknen | Raph is one of the first dark blogs I ever started reading, and she never, ever disappoints. She writes pieces that chill you to the bone, but warms your sex- her writing is casual, smooth, and realistic, always giving you everything you need, but leaving you wanting a little more. Fav Fic: Sleeping Beauty [Dabi x Reader]

@hoe-doroki | Ana is one of the sweetest writers I know. Every time I talk to her, she’s working on comfort requests or beta-reading for other people. Her writing is such a pleasure to read, as you can tell she pours love and consideration into every fic for her readers. Fav Fic: Can’t Find My Breath [Bakugou x Reader]

@joyousandverywarlike | Zo...holy fucking shit. Zo is a writer who consistently blows me out of the water with her skill. This woman is a novelist blessing us with juicy, rich smut and love stories like no one else can. She is incredibly poetic and her writing is an absolute joy to read; she also writes amazing fics for black readers and has an amazing voice that she uses for asmr audios! Fav Fic: How We Met [Ushijima x Reader]

@lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten | Leah is an author who takes immense care with her work. She works incredibly hard to craft sexy, healthy bdsm fics for bnha. She is a great blog to go to for bdsm education, and she’s also got a side blog @lemonlordleah-extra-sour for all you extra naughty readers who like the darker side of fanfic. You should also check out her Patreon! Fav Fic: Between the Evergreen [Aizawa x Reader]

@linestrider | Nyki’s work is like smooth water, it’s calming, refreshing, but she also adds a nice, chill bite to it as well with her darker style. Nyki puts such an impressive amount of care into her work; a word is never out of place, every sentence has meaning, every paragraph gives you something new. It was very hard to choose just one fic to recommend. Fav Fic: What’s Said is Said [Hawks x Reader]

@lookslikeleese | Leese is one of the most fun writers on Tumblr, and by that I mean you just have a shitload of fun reading her fics. They are like little, sexy treats to take in right before bed and feel a little more full than you were before. She is also the Cucking Queen. Fav Fic: Cola [Enji x Reader] 

@messwriting | Lee is also another fun writer! Her writing is exhilarating to read, and you’d never guess she’s a sexy Brazilian whose second language is English based on how well she writes. She’s a little sex goddess who will give you everything you want and more in every fic. Fav Fic: What We Could’ve Been [Tsukishima x Reader]

@mindninjax | Marquie is a full on sweetie with a sexy side. She. Is. So. Creative. Every fic of hers is so unique and her masterlist is a whole reading experience. She writes Bakugou Katsuki so damn well, she’s a master at characterization, even in au’s. She also writes beautiful fics for black readers. Fav Fic: Bound to You [Bakugou x Reader]

@nekokoafanfictions | I first found Ai on Ao3, and then was fortunate enough to come across their blog here on Tumblr! I’ve said this before in previous rec lists, and I’ll say it again, I still read their fics some nights to fall asleep to, they are just that good, every fic will have you coming back at some point to read it again. Fav Fic: City Lights [Enji x Reader]

@present-mel | The. Queen. Of. Dialogue. Mel is a master at making her fanfic feel real, gritty, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time. This woman pours her heart and soul into fanfic, especially into her Erwin series Fragments of Memories. I was so captivated by her work that I just had to become her friend, her work is enchanting and thrilling. Fav Fic: Until the Fire Played [Enji x Reader]

@rat-suki | Annie makes me horny. Like, real horny. Her smut is fantastic and are often little thrill rides within themselves. Fuck rollercoasters, just go to Annie’s masterlist to find a joy ride. Fav Fic: Hell Fire [Enji x Reader]

@rivendell101 | I’m such a big fan of Alisha, that I sent her a request months ago before we even became friends. This author knows how to craft a story, her work is very meticulous with details and her plots are always so spot on. Fav Fic: Sweet Thing [Natsuo x Reader]

@smutbardpeach | Smutbard is the most accurate title for Peach, as her fics read like poetry and song, filled with beautiful language, imagery, and allusions to the brim. If you’re ever looking for something romantic, sensual, delightful, and just overall magnificent to read, this is the blog to go to. Peach’s work is like reading poetry and classics right off the shelf. Fav Fic: Truth in Wine [Hizashi x Reader]

@spicyness | Are you thirsty? Do you like fun, sexy headcanons? Ness is the author for you. Ness is so, so fun and sweet, and is active with her followers and is always posting something new and creative for us to nibble at. Her blog is full of fun thirsts and she’s always a joy to see pop-up on my dash. Fav Fic: Pride [Bakugou x Reader]

@sugardaddykenma | Lin has the most amazing brain. I wish I could just...see and understand how she thinks. Her blog is full to the brim with hilarious, iconic, and down right fucking true headcanons for haikyuu characters. Many nights I have stayed up laughing my ass off and saying “why is that so true?” while reading through her astonishingly creative work. Fav Fic: Haikyuu on Drugs

@thewheezingwyvern | Wyv is a writer who gets straight to the point; her words are poignant, meaningful, and always paint a very clear picture. She is a Shinsou and Aizawa lover/fucker all the way to her core, and she’s amazing at bringing those characters to life in her work. Fav Fic: Salt Lines [Aizawa & Shinsou x Reader]

@thisisthehardestthing | Claudia is one of the most talented writers I have ever met. Period. She has a vocabulary, a depth, an ability to craft the most intense, alluring, and magnificent fanfic you’ve ever read. Most of her work doesn’t even seem like fanfic, it reads like love letters stuffed into the pages of a book that stand the test of time with her marvelous writing abilities. She always awes me, as every single fic is unique and powerful it its own way. Fav Fic: Tocka [Tanaka x Reader]

@tomurasprincess | The Queen of Darkness herself, Mari is amazing at fulfilling all of your dark desires. I’ve never met anyone else who is as active as she is with her followers, as she’s constantly pushing herself to answer requests and give people exactly what they want to see. She has such an expansive masterlist, any dark fic lover can find something worthwhile from her! She’s almost made a Shigaraki fucker out of me, almost. Fav Fic: Wraith’s Touch [Shigaraki x Reader]

@undermattsun | Miki taught me what a skate rat is. Do I understand it yet? Not really, but I fucking like it. Miki is so much fun and is always active with her followers, giving out awesome thirsts, visuals, and headcanons for her fav haikyuu characters. Fav Fic: Flavor of the Month [Matsukawa x Reader]

@vixen-scribbles | Vixen is someone who cares about everyone around her, and her blog reflects that. Amongst all her amazing writing, you’ll always find her recommending her friends and supporting other writers. Her writing is fucking sexy, she knows her way around the bedroom when it comes to fics, and she’s got a lengthy masterlist to fawn over. Fav Fic: Take All of Me [Ushijima x Reader]

@whats-her-quirk | Truly, the best has been saved for last. June’s work is the heart and soul of classic, fucking amazing fanfic. I can’t even explain how much I love her fics, like they will put the biggest smile on your face and have your thighs rubbing together in anticipation. June is writing her fantasies and having fun, and we are privileged to enjoy the ride with her. She knocked kinktober out of the fucking park, with each fic being a new, fresh delight. Fav Fic: Once in a Blue Moon [Karasuno x Reader Gangbang]

This list could honestly be twice as long, and perhaps in the future I’ll make a companion to it as I meet new authors and read more amazing fanfic. Please give all these authors a follow or at least check out their blogs. 💖

#writer recs #bnha #haikyuu #attack on titan #fanfiction #bnha fanfic #hq fanfic #aot fanfiction #bnha x reader #haikyuu x reader #aot x reader #amazing writers #pleasant speaks #my hero academia #haikyuu!! #my hero academia fanfic

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(i'm gonna make you) feel it

a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨

Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg). 

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the:  🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠

So, @dymphnasprose​ basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is!  Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕

That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell  who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy​, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya​ who was kind enough to beta this too <3

Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it 

You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN 

Hanamaki is focused.

He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room. 

Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.

Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.

And tonight he has already found the one. 

You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really. 

Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.

A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you. 

Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled. 

That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints. 

You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.

And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later. 

He’ll make sure of it. 

The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance. 

“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but. 

“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”

“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action. 

One dick for life. Ha. 

“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself. 

“And that’s a sexy little group.”

“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”

Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.

The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words. 

The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.

The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass. 

Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.

On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides. 

But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.

Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.

Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.

Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body. 

So fucking pure. 

Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever. 

Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?

When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.

Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch. 

He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”

Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?

Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now. 

"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."

He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride." 

That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.

One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet. 

Pliant. 

And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type. 

Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.

Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg. 

When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage. 

Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.

He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear. 

Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace. 

Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him. 

Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.

Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.

Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.

He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.

His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.

Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.

Such a precious little thing indeed.

The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips. 

And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.

Lovely.

Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later. 

You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy. 

You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.

And unfortunately that means time’s up.

Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go. 

Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show. 

“See you later, pretty one.”

Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.

Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name. 

Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.

You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.

Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.

The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.

Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.

 His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.

The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance? 

The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick. 

You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.

“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face. 

“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac. 

You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before. 

If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage. 

A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.

You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.

“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”

“Uhh, sir, I--”

“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.” 

The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.

“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.

“Then you understand…”

“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”

Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary. 

You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt. 

“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.

“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”

Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.

“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone.  “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”

“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.

Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.

His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell. 

His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest. 

You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.

He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.

Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.

Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation. 

It’s really the best.

His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.

When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.

The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.

It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.

“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”

You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him. 

“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”

He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.

He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.

“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.”  His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this. 

“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.

“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt. 

“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs. 

He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout. 

“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.

 Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too. 

You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.

“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”

The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.

“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”

 “I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”

“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.

You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.

If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around. 

You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.

He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.

Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.

“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”

“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.

Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.

“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!” 

“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.

“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”

“Fuck!”

“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”

“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”

“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.

“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in. 

And he loves it. 

He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him. 

That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”

He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”

Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?

He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.

When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done. 

Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.

Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls. 

He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.

“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.

“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”

Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.

Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.

“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from. 

“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.

“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”

#hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro smut #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

Mirror’s Image | Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Being with Javier feels like paradise. Being fucked against a mirror by Javier feels like euphoria.

Rated: E

Word Count: 2.7k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been on my loving pedro bullshit again so here is some mirror sex with javier peña

When working as a DEA agent in Colombia, there were rarely ever moments that called for celebration. However, the raid based on information that Y/N had spent countless hours and sleepless nights collecting and deciphering was definitely one of those moments. Several tons of cocaine, crates of firearms, and multiple high-ranking and very wanted narcos had been seized with no casualties, along with new information about how Escobar was smuggling things in and out of Colombia. 

Even Carillo, who rarely ever smiled, had seen all the work Y/N had put into organizing the raid and was hiding a grin when he announced a celebratory dinner at a bar down the street from the embassy. Y/N was heading back to the police cruisers for a ride back to the embassy when Javier appeared suddenly at her side, his voice low and his hand sliding into her back pocket. 

“You have no idea how sexy you looked pointing a gun and shouting orders hermosa, I almost took you right then and there,” he whispered, leaning closer so that only she could hear him. Y/N could feel her cheeks heat and a spark tugging deep in her stomach. The two of them had been secretly seeing each other for over a year, not even clueing Murphy in on what they were behind closed doors. 

“Javier! What if someone sees us?” Y/N whispered harshly, although she wished she could lean into him and finally feel his hands on her properly after the long day they had had. His hands were always warm and soft against her skin, a juxtaposition from his perfectly calloused fingertips that would leave marks on her sides for weeks. The thought of him holding her up against the wall, bruising her thighs as he drew orgasm after orgasm from her was enough to make her feel an even more powerful surge of sparks in her abdomen. 

“Don’t worry hermosa, I’ll have you all to myself tonight,” Javier leaned into her neck and lightly bit down on the edge of her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine and intensifying the sparks in her core. Her eyes fluttered shut as Javier pulled away, walking in the opposite direction as if nothing had happened, a confident swagger in his gait. 

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, now frustrated and wanting a certain someone between her legs, and it wasn’t until Carillo’s voice startled her out of her thoughts that Y/N took her eyes off of Javier and his immaculate frame. 

“You alright there Y/N? I thought you’d be heading back to get ready for tonight?” Carillo was an intimidating man, his shoulders and chest broad and a no-nonsense sort of look that was plastered on his face at all times. 

“Oh! Yes, um, I was just distracted for a moment, yes I’m heading back right now, I think I’m going to take a shower and get all of this grime off of me,” Y/N chuckled nervously before she rushed into one of the cruisers getting ready to leave for the embassy. She still had a couple hours before she had to arrive at the time Carillo had given everyone, and although Carillo was a stickler for punctuality, Y/N would still have time to unwind in the shower and prepare for the night. After all, if she wanted to spend the night with Javier like he had teased her earlier, she might as well make it worth her while. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s shower was the first time that she had been able to fully relax over the past few months. Almost all of her time had been spent pouring over evidence and tracking down witnesses and information, so the steam was a welcome treat for her aching muscles. Y/N stood beneath the rainfall setting of her shower, slowly kneading at the knots in her shoulders. She hadn’t realized just how long it had been since she had done something as indulgent as taking a hot shower for longer than 20 minutes. Her only true indulgence had been Javier’s company whenever they decided to spend the night together. After a long shower that was desperately needed, it didn’t take long to finish getting ready and begin the drive to the bar. 

It wasn’t a long drive, only about 10 minutes, but it gave Y/N the opportunity to listen to the radio and reflect. So much had happened within the two years that she had been working with the DEA in Colombia. The first 10 months or so had been filled with helping Javier and Murphy on cases, all while dealing with dangerous narcos and dodging the flirtatious advances of Javier. 

It wasn’t until Y/N had gotten shot in the stomach on one of their assignments that Javier had realized that the reason why he hadn’t been frequenting the best brothels of Bogota for the past couple months was because of Y/N. Only 4 weeks later, the two had begun secretly seeing each other after work, meeting up at restaurants where no one they knew could run into them. 

But Javier had promised that once Y/N had gotten her big break on a case, they would go together to HR and officially fill out the paperwork stating that they were a couple. Y/N had just gotten her big break on a case. She knew that the raid wouldn’t be the only thing that she would be celebrating that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple of drinks, everyone seemed to have loosened up and were engaged in loud conversation with one another. Y/N, however, kept glancing over to Javier, who was seated next to her. He always looked attractive, but Y/N could practically feel the sex appeal that was coming off of him in waves. He was wearing a button up with the top few buttons left open, revealing his smooth, tanned chest. She didn’t blame the lingering eyes of other women in the bar, after all, she had been one of them not too long ago. 

So far, they had been careful about any public displays of affection, but after the stunt that Javier had pulled back at the raid, Y/N decided to throw all caution to the wind. Carefully, she placed her hand on his knee under the table. She could feel how he tensed slightly under her touch before relaxing again. Y/N waited a few moments before she began slowly running her fingers up his thigh, taking her time to draw flowing patterns like vines.

It wasn’t until she was only a few inches away from his groin when his hand suddenly seized her wrist. He leaned in close, just as he had done at the raid, but this time there was an edge to his voice, like he was straining to get the words out. 

“What do you think you’re doing hermosa?” his words were almost like a growl with how deep his voice had gotten. 

Y/N blinked innocently at him, an expression that did not match what she was attempting to do with her hands. 

“What do you mean, Javi?” a smile was starting to spread across her face at Javier’s raised eyebrow. His grip tightened slightly around her wrist before he released her, standing up abruptly. Pulling an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, he stalked off towards the back door of the bar, presumably to smoke in the back alley. 

Y/N had certainly gotten a reaction from him, he was always so… responsive beneath her touch. She would pay for it later though, a thought that had her mouth watering and her thighs clenching together. Recalling the memory of his face between her thighs or her front pressed against the balcony window as he pounded into her from behind, teasing her and forcing her over the edge more times than she could count was enough to make her desperate for his touch. 

Y/N waited until the song that was playing over the speakers had begun transitioning into the next before she stood to follow him. Y/N knew where to go, the door to the back alley was in the service hallway next to the bathrooms, a trip she had taken multiple times before for various drunken smoke breaks.

She almost had no time to react when she was suddenly pulled into one of the bathrooms and pushed up against the door, forcing the air out of her lungs. Javier’s mouth was on her neck within seconds, tracing the line of her jaw and down to her shoulder.

“Querida, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his lips still tracing her neck. 

“Mmm, why don’t you show me, mi amor?

Javier’s lips were on hers within seconds, his hands roaming across her body like he couldn’t get enough of her touch and the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips. 

Y/N couldn’t help but moan, Javier tasted of his usual whiskey and cigarettes, a combination that was always intoxicating to her. He wasted no time in beginning to unbutton the buttons of her blouse, trying to rid her of as much clothing as possible so that he could touch more of her. 

Their kiss quickly became frenzied, both of them chasing a high that only the other could give. Within moments, Javier’s hands were on Y/N’s waist, turning her around and pressing her up against the mirror covered wall.

“Look at how perfect you look for me querida, looking like a fucking angel for me,” Javier’s voice was deep and raspy as he mouthed kisses over her neck, slowly and with purpose.

Y/N used her arms to brace herself against the mirror, looking at her reflection through her lashes. She looked absolutely wrecked, her hair was a mess, lips puffy, and the heaving of her chest from her panting was on full display. Javier stood behind her, giving open mouth kisses to her neck as his large hands traveled up her abdomen, squeezing one of her breasts in his hand. 

“Look at how beautiful you look for me, hermosa,” his voice now a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. 

“Javi, please! Do something, I- I need you to touch me,” Y/N was pliable beneath his touch, she could feel his cock gliding over her folds, teasing her as she arched her back. 

Without warning, Javier thrust forward, sheathing himself within her in one, swift movement, forcing a gasp from her lips. He stilled for only a moment before setting a punishing pace. Each thrust drove deeper and harder into Y/N, slowly pulling her apart and driving all rationale from her. 

Y/N moaned as she watched their reflection in the mirror, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, the glimpse of Javier’s curls from behind her shoulder, the indentations of her waist where his fingers held her, and the way his cock looked every time he entered her. All of it made her stomach spark in arousal. 

With one particularly hard thrust, Y/N let out a cry, her arms giving out and her body pressing up against the cold mirror. She could see the condensation building from their gasping moans and the heat of their bodies. 

“Oh my god, Javier, r-right there, fuck-” a broken moan escaped her lips as he continued fucking into her, his fingers coming to grasp her thigh roughly.

“You like that princess? You like how I fuck you?” Javier growled, his hand pressing even deeper into the flesh of her thighs and waist.

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Y/N’s moans echoed slightly off of the tiled walls. “God you feel so good, don’t stop Javi,”

“Always look like a fucking vision on my cock, don’t you? Always feel so fucking good for me, because you are all mine,” he said, biting down on her shoulder. A thin sheen of sweat was layered over Javier’s beautiful, tanned, olive skin, emphasizing the flexing of his muscles with every movement.

With his right hand, Javier threaded his fingers through her hair, grasping it in a vice-like hold at the back of her head, and roughly pulled her up so that they made eye contact through the mirror, Y/N’s mouth falling open in arousal at his actions. 

“Look at how gorgeous you look for me, coming apart on my cock,” Javi had a smirk on his face, like he knew that she was completely at his mercy. “You like it when I fuck you like this? In the bathroom while everyone thinks you’re out smoking?”

Y/N couldn’t even attempt to answer properly, her mind too clouded with euphoria and the building of her orgasm, each rigorous thrust pushing her further over the edge. 

“Come on, answer me amado, you like being fucked like this?” Javier’s brought his hand down in a firm slap to Y/N’s ass, drawing a shocked yelp from her lips. 

“Yes! Yes, I love it Javi, please I- I’m going to cum, don’t stop!”

It only took a few more thrusts before Javier’s hips began stuttering and losing their steady rhythm.

“Where do you want me querida?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper in her ear.

“Inside, please I want you inside me Javi,” her voice was a breathy moan, a sound which always drove Javier over the edge. 

Y/N’s orgasm washed over her, her vision temporarily going white from the euphoria she was experiencing. Only moments later, Javier’s low moan registered next to her ear as he came, filling her up with his cum. 

Javier was still pressed to Y/N’s back, both of them panting as they tried to catch their breaths.

“You always look so beautiful after I fuck you, mi alma, I swear its like you were sculpted by the gods,” Javier mumbled as he pressed gentle kisses to her shoulder, just like he always did after he made her fall apart beneath his touch. Y/N loved this Javi, this was the Javi who woke up early on the weekends to go to the farmers market to get fresh fruit for her, the Javi who danced slowly with her in his living room to his old vinyls, the Javi who no one else but she got to see. 

“Mmm, you always take such good care of me, amado,” Y/N was met with a soft grunt as Javier wrapped his arms around her midsection, pulling her even closer to his body. 

“I’m going to show you just how well I can take care of you tonight, after all, you deserve to be worshipped,” he said as he continued pressing kisses to wherever he could reach. Javier had always been soft and gentle after sex, after years of meaningless sex with informants and prostitutes, he craved the caring touch he only got when he was with Y/N. 

A comfortable silence passed between them before Javier slowly pulled out, his cum slowly beginning to drip down Y/N’s thighs. Y/N barely registered that Javier had taken a damp paper towel and was cleaning up the mess he had left inside her. 

Y/N turned, leaning back against the mirror to watch Javier as he began getting redressed. Only a moment later, he began redressing Y/N, tenderly moving her body to put on her blouse and skirt. 

Y/N hummed, her hand coming up to caress Javier’s cheek lovingly.

“See? Like I said, always taking such good care of me,”

A longing look crossed over Javier’s eyes before he took her face in his hands, pulling her into a slow, passionate kiss. When they finally parted from their sweet embrace, Javier rested his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed in content and happiness.

“Te amo, mi alma,”

“Te amo, Javier,”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction

[sharknadoslutt]

If it's not too late for bath time, imagine taking a nice hot bath with Boba Fett. He'd gripe and grumble, but having you in his arms in warmth would totatlly get him to relax just a little

You sent this for bath time like over a week ago, but have a fic now!

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader

This is a sexy domestic fic and I Love it. 18+ as this is SMUT.

Boba should be returning home later today, and to prepare yourself you'd drawn a nice bath. When he returned from jobs he loved to ravish your body to make up for his time away. Though he didn't care, you liked to primp and groom yourself, having your body in the cleanest, smoothest condition for your lover.

You had spoiled yourself by using the best bath bombs, oils, and sweet smelling candles for this occasion. The flame from the candles shimmered brilliantly off of the water, which created a dim romantic atmosphere in the dark room.  The air was scented with the bath salts and the oil made the water feel like silk. You were sinfully relaxed.

You heard Boba enter your shared bedroom and you beamed. He was home earlier than you'd expected!

"My love!" You called out.

"I'm here." The man grunted from the other side of the door. It sounded like he was unloading his gear.

"How did everything go?"

"The mission was a success." You knew that was all he would offer; but that was alright. He provided for you and kept himself safe, that was all that mattered.

"Good." You called out, crossing your legs over the other in the water and giggling as how your skin glided together due to the bath oil.

After a few moments the bathroom door swung open and revealed Boba in his boxer shorts. Upon seeing your naked frame soaked in the sudsy tub he cocked you a curious brow. His mouth in a straight line as he examined you.

"You look quite comfortable, cyare." He sounded tired, but content. Content to be home with you.

"Hmmmm..~" You uncrossed your legs, shamelessly allowing him full view of your naked sex through the clearing in the water. "I'm very relaxed.."

He stepped over to the side of the tub and you sat up slightly, excited to greet him. Leaning down he pecked you on the lips, his stubble tickled your face. He was over-due for a trim. Stars, he had been away for far too long.

As you leaned back down into the tub you couldn’t help but to notice Boba's honey eyes ravishing your wet body. His face bore a hungry scowl. You felt a beating between your legs as he licked his lips and your thoughts drifted to memories of him using that tongue against your body..

Caught in the act, Boba locked eyes with you and smirked.

"Why don't you dry off and join me in the bedroom, little one." He stepped back, his eyes resting on your breast as they were partially covered by the warm suds. "I need my girl.."

Much to his disliking, you shook your head no and shrugged nonchalantly. “I just got in here, Boba. I wasn’t expecting you home so early.” Reaching to the side of the bath you grabbed a loofah and brought it to your chest. Locking eyes with the tall man you began to wash your wet exposed breast.

With one hand you dragged the loofah over your tender skin, pushing around the oils and bubbles. With the other you gently massaged them. 

“You’ll have to wait until I finish my bath, my love."

Boba shifted, becoming increasingly aroused by your actions. He obviously didn’t appreciate how you weren’t melting to his desires.

“How long do you expect to be in the bath?” He sat on the edge of the tub.

"I haven't decided quite yet.." You hummed.

He gave a disapproving grunt and glanced over his shoulder and down, this time shamelessly looking at your legs. Your eyes traveled over to the bulge rising between his legs. You bit your lip, feeling a needy desire for him. It'd been so long...

“Why don’t you join me, Boba?”

“Huh?” Boba was pulled down to reality by your question and met your gaze, his eyes alight with uncertainty. After taking a moment to process what you had suggested he gave you a wild look. “I, uh... No. This is more your thing than mine, cyare..” He said, obviously uncomfortable with the idea.

“It doesn't have to be just my thing.” You cooed, repositioning to your knees so you could easily reach him. “It’s nice and warm in here..” You continued, pressing your wet breast to his bare back. "It's slick with oil... really intimate.."

The man burrowed his brows, contemplating his next action.

"I know you're probably so tense after working so hard..." You cooed while reaching up to rub his shoulders. The oil in the water made your hands slippery and soft, making it easy for your digits to glide against his tense broad muscles. Twirling his head back to your touch, he closed his eyes and let our a deep groan.

"I bet this bath would make you so relaxed.." You pressed your lips to his ear. "And whatever the tub can't do to relax you.. I can."

The man gave you a suspicious look as he contemplated his options. However, it was merely seconds before he quickly stood up and removed his boxer shorts. You watched the thin cloth drop to the floor, his half-erect cock revealed. Your eyes stayed glued to it as he carefully got into the tub with you.

The tub was large and oval shaped. He got in on the opposite side of you and sat down, allowing both of your legs to entwine under the warm sudsy water. It was easy to tell by looking at his shoulders he was a bit uncomfortable.

“How’s the water?” You chirped playfully, placing a hand on his leg affectionately under the water. His face expressed uneasiness.

“It’s alright.” He sighed, not sounding too impressed.

“Hmm, maybe you need a wash, my love.” You mused and grabbed the loofah.

Boba cocked you an intrigued look, his dark eyes squinting. “With that thing?” He gawked, referring to the pink loofah in your hand.

“Oh shush.” You groaned jokingly, smirking slightly]. “I promise you’ll like this.” You repositioned yourself, crawling over so you were straddling the man, with one leg on either side of him. Your intimate regions brushing past each other as the water shifted around you.

“This is a waste of time...” Boba grumbled, taking a firm hold of your hips as you sat on top of him. “Why not just let me..” He pulled you down just slightly, enough to allow his erect cock to rub on the opening of your sex. You inhaled sharply, tempted to allow him to just pull you all the way down so you were completely encompassing him. But you had been trying to get him to take a bath for you for so long and this may be your only shot to get him to enjoy it!

“Mmm, soon.. but first-” You began in a sultry tone and lifted up the loofah, placing it on his hairy chest. “-I need to clean you .. you’re so dirty..~”

The man was very flustered; undoubtedly Boba didn’t like being in this bathtub. But he was weak when you talked dirty to him, especially now that you were soaked and naked. With flushed cheeks and knitted brows, he locked eyes with yours and stayed silent, allowing you to continue.

Slowly you began washing over his bare chest gently with the loofah. You let your other hand leisurely retrace the loofah trail, spreading the warm suds over his copper skin. Closing his eyes and taking in a breath the man finally relaxed to your touch.

“I love these big shoulders of yours..” You hummed as your hands slowly trailed over, washing his left shoulder. “So strong and sexy..” You could feel him growing harder beneath you.

“What else do you love?” He growled, starting to get into what you were doing. His deep brown eyes stared lustfully back into yours.

“All of you, sir.” You washed up his neck, letting your hands trail sinfully slow across his jawline. “This handsome face of yours-” You continued down his neck and shoulders, stopping at his forearms. “-These big strong arms of yours..” You rocked your hips against his body, your ass brush against his hard cock. “But I really love your fat cock.”

Boba growled lustfully at your words but said nothing in return.

"Mmmm, do you like it when I talk to you like this, my love?

Reaching up Boba took a tight grip of your hair before pushing your face forward, just in front of his. Your lips brushed against each other.

"You're so fucking filthy.." Without further hesitation he crashed his lip against yours in a needy heated kiss.

You moaned into his mouth. The primal sexual need to fuck was strong, heating up faster by the second. Dropping the loofah down into the water you gave yourself completely into the kiss, wrapping your arms around Boba’s slippery neck.

The bounty hunter slipped his thick tongue past your lips, playfully dancing around in the familiar way it had many times before. Pressing your hips down, you slowly rubbed yourself against the man’s erect cock prompting him to kiss your harder.

All the movement stirred up the water. With each moment a small splash could be heard flowing over the edge of the tub and onto the tile floor. The urgency to feel the others flesh completely dominated the need to keep the bathroom floor clean.

You leaned forward, pressing your soaked breast against Boba’s chest. He shifted a bit in response, separating the kiss sluggishly. He sucked on your lip for a moment, chewing on it slightly before pulling away completely. You opened your eyes and were met with his mischievous amber ones, a devious sparkle gleamed within them that made you shiver.

“You're cleaning me..” Boba said is a gruff whisper, continuing to stare straight at you. “But you're the filthy one in this tub..”

“How dirty am I, sir?” You asked. You watched as Boba glanced around the tub before grabbing the loofah. With a quiet chuckle he brought it up to your chest, running it between your breast slowly.

“So kriffin' dirty.”

Once he had your breast covered is suds he dropped the loofah back into the water and began to gently massage your breast, taking one into each of his hands. “Especially these tits of yours..” He pinched your left nipple, making you moan.

He continued to play with your breast for a fair amount of time, gently massaging them with those talented hands and even with his tongue at times. Pulling his lips away from you right nipple he came face to face with you with a dirty smirk. 

“I'd say you're good as clean now, girl.”

Digging your nails into his shoulders you were pleased to hear him groan in pleasure. “Thank you, Boba.”

Without another word he took a possessive hold of your hips. As he pulled you down, you gasped as the head of his cock inched inside you.

“Y-You realize if we do it in the bathtub it’ll make a big mess on the floor?” You reminded him, gesturing towards the quivering water around the two of you.

“I couldn't care less.” Boba growled. He leaned over and bit down lightly on your neck, scraping his teeth against your damp skin as he pulled you further down on his hungry cock.

The two of you moaned of softly once he was entirely inside of you. He bucked his lips up to cause some pleasurable friction. Taking control of the situation, Boba lifted you up off his member before quickly slamming you right back down onto him, the head of his cock slamming against that extra special spot.

He continued like this, using your body at his will; slamming you up and down, splashing the warm bath water all over the place. But you truly didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you was reaching that level of pleasure that was sure to come if he kept this up. For a while the two of you worked together, grinding sensually in the tub as water splashed all about.

“That’s it..” Boba groaned out, his voice gruff and dry. “My wet fucking girl..”

Finally being sent over the edge you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back as you gasped in ecstasy. Shaking in his arms you dug your nails into Boba's shoulders, scraping against his wet skin.

“Kriff..” Boba hissed, reaching the end himself he slammed you down onto his cock, letting himself explode inside of you. You were soaked, inside and out.

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett smut #18+ #NSFT #did I steal part of this from a captain boomerang fic I wrote 5 years ago? #but is it plagarism if you are stealing form yourself? #yes #nahhh #hollyspeaks

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #aomine daiki #aomine smut #knb smut #knb drabbles #knb scenarios #anonymous #popz

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2    -    Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their  complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing,  "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of  dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word  out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.  

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #Harry fic #harry styles au #ofc #reader insert #coworker!harry #office au #fluff #flirting #harry styles fluff

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Whisky and Cheap Wine | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Smut

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Losing Virginity, Mentions of Drinking, Curse words? 

Time/Era: Modern AU, Both characters are of age

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Y/N and Edmund were high school sweethearts that broke up before going to university. When they run into each other at a mutual friends’ New Year’s Eve party, unfinished business and old feelings are brought to life.

Request: Please do a first-time fluffy smut where he’s super nervous but also very reassuring and sweet. Edmund would try to be so confident and snarky while secretly being a nervous mess.

A/N: Happy New Years! Ending the year with some smut hehe. Enjoy!

masterlist | read on ao3 | edmund playlist | narnia playlist

“So, erm, university going well?” Edmund spoke into his glass of whisky, scanning the room to avoid eye contact. His long, slender fingers grasped the fake crystal in such a way that it made the glass appear tiny. 

“Great,” Y/N responded, painfully aware of how her short skirt was hugging her ass. Edmund’s eyes followed the curve of her breasts down the slope of her hips against his better judgment. “Finished the semester with high marks. You?” 

Edmund choked, “Yeah, same. Just in visiting family for the holidays. You know how they are.” He peeled his eyes from the shortly hemmed material in favor of Y/N’s eyes. 

“How’s Lucy? I miss her a lot. Sometimes I felt like I had a closer relationship with her than I did you.” 

The pair shared a laugh. 

“She’s great. Torn that you didn’t come to Christmas this year.” 

Y/N took a sip of the cheap wine in her glass. “I’ll have to text her I suppose.” 

A tension-filled silence overtook the pair as they gaped at each other. Edmund had matured in the short months he was away; his jaw sharpened, his hair now fell in loose curls across his forehead and his muscles had tightened. Even the way he dressed changed. Where a beat up, old flannel once laid held a dark brown leather jacket that hit right above his hips. His beat up converse were exchanged for a pair of lace-up dress boots and his jeans no longer hanging off his body in favor of black skinny jeans. But, the smirk that plastered over Edmund’s features was the same sexy smile Y/N remembered. His eyes had the same mischievous glint to them, too. Oh, the hours she imagined looking down in between her legs and seeing those eyes looking at her. 

“Have you found anyone else?” Edmund casually asked, his hand now resting in his pocket. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how strong they looked. He brought his glass to his puffy pink lips and drank, caramel-colored liquid flowing down his chin. Edmund’s hand broke free from his pocket and ran his palm across his lips, a chunky ring brushing his soft skin. “Is that a weird thing to ask?” 

“No, it’s not.” Y/N tore her gaze from Edmund’s lips and cleared her throat. “I kissed a boy named Alex at a party, but other than that, not really. He was nice and cute and all, but he didn’t exactly do anything for me.” 

“No?” Edmund’s tone rose from casual conversation to somewhere between surprised and cocky. “Alex couldn’t compare?” 

“I guess you could say that. What about you?” 

“Not much time, pre-law is a bit harder than I anticipated.” He twisted the ring with his thumb and brought his glass back to his lips. “Couldn’t get my mind off of a certain girl back home, I suppose.” 

“I miss talking to you. The number of times I had to stop myself from clicking your contact-” 

“- I would have answered, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” 

Edmund smiled, “Yeah.” His eyes scanned the room before grabbing Y/N’s elbow lightly. “It’s a bit loud in here, let’s go somewhere quieter to talk.” 

Edmund’s rough hand guided her across the busy living room and towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms. 

“Here we are,” Edmund turned on the light of one of the bedrooms. “Caspian won’t mind us high jacking his room for a while.” 

Y/N took a gentle seat on the bed and looked around the room. It was simple and clean; much like how Caspian appeared in most situations. 

“Let’s hope not,” Y/N watched Edmund nervously wipe his sweaty hands on the front of his jeans. 

She paused for a moment, placing her wineglass on Caspian’s bedside table. Edmund threw his jacket onto the desk chair. “You look good, Ed. Never thought I’d see you in anything but straight leg.” Y/N gestured lazily to Edmund’s jeans. They hugged his toned legs perfectly and left very little to the imagination. 

“Eh, yeah, I figured it was time for a change. New school, new me?” Edmund’s pearly teeth shined bright as they came forward to bite his bottom lip. “You look as stunning as ever. Dare I say even more beautiful than I remember.” 

Y/N blushed and looked down. “Always such a charmer, Ed. I’m glad some things never change.” 

Ed took a seat next to Y/N and placed his whisky next to her wine on the table. 

“Why did we break up?” Edmund asks, his voice slightly strained as he spoke. “Neither of us wanted to.” 

“You said that it would save us heartbreak in the future. That we would drift apart anyway and that you wanted to set me free.” Y/N turned her head and watched Ed’s facial features change. His tight jaw clenched, his brows furrowed and his lips fell into a pierced line. 

“I was stupid. God, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He shook his head and made eye contact with the girl sitting next to him. “Being away from you only made me yearn for your presence more. Made me fall in love with you even more.” 

“I never stopped loving you, you idiot.” Y/N’s fingers brushed away a curl from his forehead to reveal a look of pure love and admiration. “You look so fucking good tonight, Ed. Like, Jesus fucking Christ.” 

He scoffed, “Says you! When you walked in the room it took everything in me to not tackle you to the ground.” 

“Tackle me to the ground?” 

“Shut up and stop raising your eyebrow at me! You knew what I meant!” 

“Make me.” 

Edmund’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at the door before kissing Y/N’s lips for the first time in months. Y/N sighed happily at the feeling; after craving Edmund for so long, the sensation of his soft, warm lips were enough to make her body give out. She gripped his jaw in one palm and grabbed his silky black hair with the other, successfully deepening the kiss. Y/N could feel herself getting drunk off of the taste of coffee and whisky that was left on her lover’s tongue. 

Edmund’s fingers padded against the fabric of Y/N’s dress to distract himself from the ever-growing tent in his jeans. They had never gone as far as sex during their relationship, and since they were newly reunited, he didn’t want to test his luck. But, he had to admit, the feeling of Y/N pressed against his body and the sensation of her nimble fingers tugging at his hair was better than all of his fantasies combined. Edmund groaned into her mouth before he could stop it. 

Y/N giggled and moved so she was straddling his lap, both arms laid lazily across his shoulders. 

“This is new,” Edmund choked, shyly bringing his hands to rest on either side of her waist. 

“New year, new me,” Y/N responded, dipping down to press kisses along his neck. 

“Certainly- shit - certainly is new,” Edmund’s hips bucked to meet Y/N’s involuntarily, causing both to whimper. Y/N took this as a green light to start grinding against his now fully hard tent while she sucked Edmund’s hot skin into her mouth. On instinct, Edmund’s large hands moved to her ass, squeezing handfuls of her dress-covered skin into his palms. 

“Y/N,” He groaned, “Sweetheart- we’ve never -” He gasped and leaned his neck out further so Y/N could lap at his pulse point. “We’ve never done this before. Are you sure?” 

“What? I’ve never grinded on you before?” Y/N grinned into the skin and bit down lightly. “Cause unless my memory fails me -” 

“- No, you know that’s not what I meant. I meant have sex, love. I know we’ve gotten close but I don’t want to pressure you into it.” 

Y/N pulled away and looked at the deep purple bruises on his neck before regaining eye contact. 

“Edmund, I want this. Do you want this?” 

He smiled a lopsided grin, “Fuck yes. I’ve been fantasizing about this for years.” 

“And yet you’ve never told me of them? Rude.” 

Edmund grinned giddily and flipped the pair over so he was towering above her. 

“Well, I’ll be able to show you if you ever shut up, darling.” He grinned and grabbed the back collar of his shirt, pulling it off with one hand. 

His chest was mesmerizing; a few dark freckles littered his sunkissed skin beautifully and his strong shoulders flexed as he moved. He must’ve been working out during his time at university because a few veins protruded from his hand up through his forearm. Under Y/N’s hot gaze, Edmund shuttered but quickly recovered. 

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He purrs in her ear and kisses her temple, his body now hovering over hers. 

“Since when did you get so… that.” Y/N ran her fingers across his collarbone and up around his neck to his locks.  

“I could say the same for you. What gives you the right to wear such a dress?” Edmund groans, “And to pull my hair?” 

“The hope of seeing you and the reaction I get from it.” She tugs harshly, prompting another deep moan to fall from Edmund’s lips. 

With one swift moment, he pushes Y/N’s dress up above her waist with a shaky hand. 

“Even planned the underwear, cheeky girl.” Ed’s mischievous eyes caught hers. 

Y/N grins bashfully and looks away. “I had to go to war with proper armor.” 

“That you did, baby,” He slinks down her body and rests his head in between her legs. “Now, these fantasies… I spoke of.” 

Y/N hums, enjoying Edmund’s mouth on the inside of her thigh. “Mmmm, yes, seems like we share a few.” 

Inch by inch, he licks and kisses his way up her inner thigh to her desperate pussy, growing more eager to devour her as each second passes. He can see how wet she is through her soaked underwear, making his mouth water at the thought. 

“Please,” Y/N moans, hands gripping in his hair once more. He looks up from in between her legs and grins, eyes hooded and smirk lopsided. Whether he was stalling or teasing, Y/N didn’t know. 

In one fluid moment, Edmund licks a stripe across her clothed heat. Y/N’s body arches up at the sensation and she tugs at his hair. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Y/L/N,” Edmund groans into the material. His first two fingers hook under the fabric and he pulls it down. “There she is.” 

“Edmund, I swear to god.” 

He ‘tsks’ and shakes his head, eyes teasing and lustful. “Patience, darling. I’ve waited years for this. I’m going to take my time.” 

Edmund continues to bite and suck on Y/N’s inner thighs as he watches her get wetter and wetter, and hears her get breathier and breathier. His hands shake as he ponders how to go about giving head. 

“Fucking hell, just do it!” 

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” 

Edmund begins with slow, sweeping motions across Y/N’s clit. He laps up all of her wetness, humming contently as he tastes her on his tongue. Soon, his tongue circles her sensitive nerve barely brushing against it, making her back arch sinfully. Edmund devours her as if she were his last meal; his huge hands wrapped around her hips to keep her in place. 

Inserting his middle finger inside of her, he curls his finger upward into the rigged flesh of her gspot. His honey-colored eyes watch as Y/N mewls in place; one hand in his hair directing his head in circles, the other gripping the headboard, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open. He releases a deep, sultry moan seeing the pleasure he was giving his love. 

“Feel good?” He asks, unsure if what he was doing was satisfactory. She nods quickly, shoving his face back down. 

“Another finger, Ed,” Y/N gasps, grinding her hips to meet Edmund’s warm tongue. “Please.” 

Edmund pulls out of her completely, only to add his index finger next to the middle. 

“Good girl,” Edmund’s voice was raspy and full of sexual desire. “You gonna cum for me?” 

“Close, don’t stop, please. Y- Yes! Just like that. Don’t stop.” 

Edmund closed his eyes and bobbed his head against her, soiling his nose, cheeks, and eyelids with Y/N’s arousal. His fingers curled inside of her at a quick pace and his tongue swirled against her clit. 

Edmund had never seen Y/N - or anyone - cum right before him. So, when she did, it was the most magical experience of his life. The dirty sound of her screams, the feeling of her clenching around his fingers, the way his name fell so sinfully from her tongue made his dick twitch in his boxers. He could only imagine what her tight pussy would feel like around his needy cock. 

Ed moved from between Y/N’s legs and kissed her on the mouth, hard. His lips were exactly what she needed and the taste of herself on his tongue made her pussy clench all over again. Her shaky hands found the zipper of his jeans and hastily pulled them and his boxers down. 

Y/N brought Edmund’s hard cock into her hand without breaking the kiss. Edmund moaned and bucked into her hand as she pumped and ran her thumb against the swollen, red tip. 

“I need your cock inside of me, Edmund. I need to feel you. Please.” Y/N whimpered, hand jerking faster. 

“Fuck, okay,” Edmund groaned, leaning back and pushing a hand into the back pocket of his jeans. 

“Seems as though I wasn’t the only one who came prepared,” Y/N giggled, taking the condom and ripping open the package. 

“I had to go into war with the proper armor.” Edmund bucked into Y/N’s hand as she rolled the condom on. 

Edmund lined up with Y/N’s entrance and pushed halfway in, resisting the urge to push further. 

“Fuck, more, Ed,” Y/N moaned, throwing her leg over Edmund’s shoulder. He shut his eyes and bottomed out, before pulling out and thrusting in again. 

“Y- Y/N, you feel so good. B- Better than I could have imagined- fuck.” He gasped, finding a comfortable speed. Y/N’s core tightened, building from her first orgasm. Her eyes rolled back and she swore she started to see stars. 

Edmund’s fingers found Y/N’s clit a few strokes in, instantly increasing Y/N’s pleasure. 

“I won’t last,” Edmund grasped, harshly rubbing Y/N and keeping his thrusts even. 

“Good, go faster, please.” Y/N puled Edmund’s lips to hers. 

Y/N’s orgasm was better than the last. Her core tightened against Edmund’s cock delightfully and her teeth ground into Edmund’s bottom lip. At the same time, Edmund was riding out his own orgasm, basking in Y/N’s cunt tightening around his cock. 

“Holy shit,” Edmund murmured as he pulled out and sat up on his knees. 

“Yeah, holy shit.” Y/N laid limp, giggling at Edmund’s messy hair and flushed face. “Let’s never break up again, yeah?” 

Edmund sent one of his famous smiles Y/N’s way. 

“Never again.” 

#edmund pevensie #King Edmund #Edmund #king edmund the just #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x reader smut #edmund pevensie fanfiction #edmund pevensie fanfic #narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #prince caspian #prince caspian fanfic #prince caspian fanfiction #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader smut #peter pevensie #King Peter the Magnificent #peter pevensie fanfiction #peter pevensie fanfic #king peter #susan pevensie #queen susan the gentle #susan pevensie x reader #susan pevensie fanfiction #lucy pevensie #lucy pevensie x reader

[feeling-weirdy]

**my scarletvision master list**

A giant list of all the drabbles I have written in chronological order for anyone who would like to read from start to finish.  If people are interested in becoming notified whenever I post something, please follow my AO3. 

Please feel free to send in prompts for anything you would like to see added to this list. 

Age of Ultron to Civil War

A Thing Isn’t Beautiful Because... - prompt; “right before or after Vision saves Wanda”; Overwhelmed with emotions, Wanda is filled with grief by the loss of her brother.  Vision tries to help her figure out a way to deal with the loss.

Uncertain, yet Intentional - prompt; The moment before his ‘I did intend to come in here’ line in episode 8 of WV

Silent Tears - prompt; Wanda really lets herself cry for the first time since Pietro’s death and Vision does his best to comfort her.

Unpleasant Dreams - prompt; Wanda has a nightmare and Vision goes in to check on her to see if she’s alright.

Do Better - prompt;  Vision is unable to save everyone in a disaster which helps him learn a very hard lesson.

Never Again - prompt;  Wanda POV; Vision and Wanda watch sitcoms and Wanda gets distracted

Bugging Out - prompt; “Holy fucking guacamole!”; A routine update goes awry.

Vis, We Talked About This - prompt; “Viz, we talked about this”; Vision tries to distract Wanda without seeming too pushy.

Your Electrifying Touch - Wanda POV; Unable to keep her thoughts contained, Wanda slips up but has to find a way to keep herself back on track.

An Unexpected Surprise - prompt; Vision comes home from a tough mission to find Wanda curled up in his bed.

Practice Makes Perfect - prompt; Vision and Wanda practice in an attempt to help get Wanda’s powers under control.

Dancing Out of Tune - prompt; Vision walks in on Wanda listening to Pietro’s favorite genre and throws him off guard.

Striking Thirteen - prompt; a moment where feelings develop; Wanda can’t seem to fall asleep and looks to Vision for help.

Happy Birthday...? - prompt; Vision gets a present from Wanda for his first "birthday"

Neverending Flow - prompt; Wanda gets a nosebleed

While No One is Watching - prompt; The gang starts dancing, but disappears once uncomfortableness starts to set in once the android and witch start to get close to one another.

Heart Over Duty - prompt; What else makes Vision cry?

Overrated - prompt; “I always thought Mr Darcy was overrated”; Vision’s feelings can no longer be kept to himself.  A novel Wanda suggests causes him to blurt out his confession.

Freezing Circuits - prompt; “Vision tries ice cream” 

An Accidental Moment - prompt; pre CW; While watching television together, Wanda initiates the next step in their relationship.

Civil War to Infinity War

Safe and Sound - prompt; songfic for Safe and Sound; After the destruction in Lagos, Wanda breaks down, leaving Vision to console her the best that he can. 

Distraction - prompt; Wanda POV; Wanda is overwhelmed by the Accords and is desperate for something else to focus on.  Vision is happy to oblige.

A Step Too Far - prompt; Vision offers pizza and an explanation for his actions in trying to keep Wanda safe inside the compound.

After the Storm - prompt; Vision arrives to see Wanda for the first time after the aftermath. 

The Little Green Monster - prompt; Vision becomes jealous of someone flirting with Wanda.

A Spark of Light - prompt; “we could be like sparks of light”; Vision attempts to talk Wanda into extending their little walks to something more substantial.

Can I Change Your Mind? - Vision is unable to tell Wanda goodbye and tries to get her to stay with him.

Three’s a Crowd - prompt; “love triangle between Vis, Wanda and Clint” 

Chicken Soup for the Soul - prompt; Wanda gets sick and Vision helps take care of her

And Life Will Always Be... - Wanda POV; Excited to meet up with Vision again, Wanda enters the hotel room hoping to get a head start but finds her plans are pushed to an instant halt.

Between the Lines - prompt; “that was an innuendo, wasn’t it?”; Vision struggles to understand why Wanda is acting so strangely.

Look My Way - Wanda POV; Tired of spending the afternoon alone, Wanda takes things into her own hands.

Cappuccino or Latte - prompt; “what’s the actual difference between a cappuccino and a latte?”; Vision attempts to make coffee despite his disadvantages.

Short and Sweet - Vision can no longer keep himself back from kissing Wanda.

All to Myself - prompt; Vision jealous of Wanda and Cap America’s friendship; The distance they have created has finally brought Vision to a breaking point.

Getting Caught - prompt;  Wanda and Vision get caught coming home late

Not Ostentatious, but True - prompt; “my love isn’t ostentatious, but it doesn’t make it any less true”; Vision becomes jealous of how others profess their love and he does his best to explain himself.

Purrfectly Happy - prompt; The first time Vision ever sees a cat 

By the River - prompt; UK shenanigans; Vision uses an anniversary as an excuse to create a new memory with something they had never tried before.

That One Thing - prompt; Vision and Wanda discuss their future.

To Grow Old In, V - Vision worries about whether or not his next move is too grand, but is determined to move to the next step regardless.

One Last Moment - prompt; “one last moment”; Vision and Wanda talk about their options should Wakanda fail to disconnect the Mind Stone.

Wandavision sitcom AU

Love Me Tender - Vision tries to make a special night for Wanda, hoping to make up for the Mr. Hart fiasco.

Support - prompt; Vision offers his assistance as Wanda struggles with her pregnancy.

Cravings - prompt; Wanda’s weird pregnancy cravings; Vision struggles in the kitchen while trying to keep up with her cravings.

Perfectly Molded - Wanda POV; prompt; Vision wearing gray sweatpants.  That’s pretty much it.

Back to Bed - A pregnant Wanda is sick and Vision struggles to take care of her.

Prenatal Upset - prompt; A pregnant Wanda doesn’t feel sexy and Vision is more than happy to prove otherwise. 

Melting in the Rain - prompt;  Wanda goes into labor and is cool as a cucumber leaving Vision to panic alone.

Nerves of Steel - prompt; Vision gets so caught up in himself that he phases through a piece of furniture and doesn’t even notice 

Painting for Mom - prompt; sweet dad!Vision moment; The boys craft gifts for Mother’s Day.

Yellow Brick Road - prompt; Vision and Wanda help the boys go Trick-or-Treating

The End of the Road - prompt; part 2 to Yellow Brick Road

Movie Night: Titanic - prompt; the family watching Titanic

Peace and Quiet Shattered - prompt; The twins attempt to make a little robot and are having trouble until Vision steps in and fixes it with ease.

Halloween Spooks - prompt; Vision getting scared by Halloween animatronics

Unable to Compute - prompt; Tommy and Billy do something stupid and Vision has a hard time understanding why

post Wandavision

A World Without Color - A series of prompts following White!Vision as he learns more about who he was so that he can move forward.

post Infinity War AU

Make it Real -  A series of one-shots, and possible story, following the traumatic events of Infinity War in an alternate universe where Wanda and Vision are alive and traumatized.

Random AUs

Bidding for Attention -  Tony has a bachelor auction and Hope Van Dyne bids on Vision to upset her dad for fun and then Hope and Vision hit it off and keep hanging out which makes Wanda realize her feelings for him have changed.

Pt 1

#scarletvision #wandavision #the vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #rini master list #my organizational side won

[softkuna]

Yuuji Itadori | Sukuna || Interest || Fic

Everyone always says that they would absolutely enjoy and accept Sukuna taking over Yuji in heated moments. But what if someone didn't? What if they pushed him away, wanting and waiting for Yuji to come back?

 Content   ║ Yuuji Itadori x Insert x Sukuna. The curse within startled, chin lifting from clawed fingers. The brat had an interesting question. For someone so idiotic, his emotional competency was a fascination. Had Sukuna been too blatant in his emotions? Had he let thoughts escape into the nether that was their shared mind space? He had protected his own realm with his domain… surely Yuuji couldn’t have snuck his way into it without Sukuna noticing. The inner dwellings of his mind had ceased as her crystalline voice graced ears that weren’t entirely his.

Count      ║ 1,660 words.

Consider ║ Pole Dance. Part 2-ish of Dancer. Mention of sex work. Mentions of sexual assault (not explicit but as a topic). Fem insert. Third Person (she/her).

Creator    ║ Aight let me express real quick that this inspired me to continue part of that dancer fic so if it’s a little confusing please. I’ve also decided that the dancer series will probably be disjointed stories revolving around the same insert. I won’t put in names and shell retain she/her and third person. Hope you don’t mind! Also, this fic in particular doesn’t wholly answer this ask, but spoiler it will come. I was just naturally going with the flow here. I really hope you don’t mind.

She stood off to the side of the pole, hand pressing to her mouth as Yuuji climbed the beast. It was quite impressive. He used pure arm and grip strength. It didn’t take him long to realize that he couldn’t get any leverage when it came to jeans. His hand gripped at the rafter connecting to the pole, humbly showing off as he did a single pull up before completely dropping to a crouch on the ground, “Did I do it?!” the puppy-like excitement teetering in his words was beautifully accompanied by the toothy grin.

  “Ah, sure,” She pressed her lips to the side, swallowing back laughter as he pouted, face scrunching into some sort of a scowl, “What?”

“C’mon! What didn’t I do?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

  With false exasperation, she whined, “Fine,” She approached the pole, both hands gripping the steel, “for one thing, you didn’t climb it pretty enough. Sure, you climbed it, but it’s got a different vibe.” Lean arms pulled her up in a seemingly effortless motion, core tightened to maintain her posture, legs together. Forearms braced the leverage on the pole, “Lifting like-whoo” she dropped back to the ground with an exhale, “that, is different from a climb like this,” Her right arm reached up so that the pole made one leg of an ‘x’ with her forearm, “Your fist should be just above your line of sight.” Her bare shin of the left leg made a similar ‘x’ with the pole, “Your opposite leg should be raised so it makes a 90 degree angle with your hips.”

  Yuuji watched, enraptured by the instruction. She spoke so clearly and was so well versed in ~the ways of the pole~ that its general sexual context was nearly gone. Then again, she did say that it was more than just ‘erotic’. He watched as her right leg came so that the ankles compressed the pole between them, “Is this why strippers wear underwear?” It was a revelation! The light bulb went off!

  She shot him with an incredulous bullet from her position. It was something like a squat, weight distributed between the leverage of her leg while her grip kept her from leaning back, “It’s not underwear, you neandrathal! It’s costume. Although some girls wear lingerie for their shows…” Her expression fell flat, “You know what, that’s not important right now.” Her hand lifted from the pole, waving off the debate topic for another time, “you wanna learn how to climb this or what?”

  The pinkette nodded, taking a seat and criss-cross apple-saucing his legs. She continued, telling him the importance of a pointed toe. Much of it was more than he’d ever thought about before. It took a lot of skill and concentration. He even learned that there’s more than one division of pole dance: Exotic (the sexy shit), Flow (the spinny shit), and Strength (self explanatory shit). For competitions, there were levels. So much of it was so far above his head, he’d need to climb to even reach it.

  As she continued, there was a languid fluidity to her limbs. Something that he only half took note of amidst the awkward staring during her first performance that he saw. He recalled an odd sense of déjà vu and the bizarre way in which Sukuna had acted. While they didn’t wholly share thoughts, the entanglement of their beings bled through from time to time. The King of Curse’s indifference often led to nothing, but when it came to her, he seemed to be ready for anything. It created an unease in the pit of Yuuji’s stomach.

  “Hey…” His voice trailed, a hand coming to clasp the back of his neck, “You know I’m Sukuna’s Vessel, yeah?”

  “Uh-huh, what about it?” She pulled her body close to the pole, right arm now by her chest, legs straight. Left arm now crossed the pole. Both legs swapped their previous position, creating an elegant illusion of ribbon unfurling. She continued to climb.

  “Have you been around one of his fingers before?”

  The curse within startled, chin lifting from clawed fingers. The brat had an interesting question. For someone so idiotic, his emotional competency was a fascination. Had Sukuna been too blatant in his emotions? Had he let thoughts escape into the nether that was their shared mind space? He had protected his own realm with his domain… surely Yuuji couldn’t have snuck his way into it without Sukuna noticing. The inner dwellings of his mind had ceased as her crystalline voice graced ears that weren’t entirely his.

  “Don’t think so, why?” Muscles worked as she placed a hand under the coccyx of her tailbone, thumb pointed down. Her legs straightened horizontally to sit along the pole, as though it were nothing but a lounge chair.

  Yuuji scratched his cheek, “I dunno. I get a feeling that he knows you. Or maybe I saw you walking down the street? Sometimes I feel that déjà vu feeling when I’m with you.” He didn’t bring up the awkward bodily response he got that surely wasn’t his own like the melancholic heart ache.

  Sukuna was silent, awaiting a response. He knew he could speak for himself, but he felt no need to. This situation was new and he needed to acclimate to it. This vessel was experiencing him second hand. The swirl of memories and emotions this woman brought to the forefront of the now-curse’s contemplations leaked out to the vessel. A pot to hold ashes. Would she be able to feel the connection behind the ceramic?

  The woman tipped so that she rest along the pole upside down, hair flowing with the weight of gravity pulling it down. A pink flush came to her cheeks as blood followed the same course, “Honestly, you reminded me of an ex.”

  Sukuna’s eyes flickered open. Ex? Was that like the English letter Yuuji had to study? There were so many modern words he was unfamiliar with. He closed his eyes, focusing purely on her words, “The thing is, I didn’t date anyone,” there was a somber lick to the tone, “I saw you and felt… *something*. You know when you watch a movie and you know something bad is going to happen? Like that.”

  Yuuji’s head tilted one direction before flipping to another. His expression was contemplative. For someone who seemed so filled with unbridled energy, it caught her off guard whenever he showed this side. It hadn’t been all that long since she joined Jujutsu Technical College, but her blossoming relationship with Yuuji came about as naturally as bees made honey. The kid was about as sweet as it, too.

  Her attitude had been bitchy after the first full day. During work, she chat him up – was saccharine sweet. It was her go-to. Maybe I can get a buck out of him, she had thought. When she couldn’t and when they left, she caked herself in the mud that was her bitchy personality. She didn’t particularly enjoy being the way she was, but it was necessary protection. Despite this, Yuuji still dug through the dirt to get at her core.

  “Hey, can you do that flagpole thing?”

“Yeah. It’s called a western flag.”

“Show me! Please. You know… if you have time.”

  Men always made her cautious. She like the attention of it all, the lustful looks she’d get during a performance, the way men would try and literally buy her time when she play-flirted. She was a top performer both in talent and in business. People requested her, savored slots of solo shows. In her line of work, while she didn’t partake in the more lewd activities herself, it was still assumed that was her position, especially when they paid well.

  “Sorry bucko. No private showings.”

“No no! Not like that. I really want to learn how to do that! I wanna see Megumi’s face when I show him that I did it first!”

  Her brows scrunched up, lips pressing into a suspicious perch. If the guy were a dog, it didn’t entirely seem like he was barking up her tree that same disgusting way. His genuine interest was so whole heartedly pure.

  “Fine.”

“Haha! Yes!”

  After a moment of silence, Yuuji rose, placing his calloused hands along either side of her cheeks. His dashing smile riled up squeeze in her chest, gaze averting his. He pressed his forehead to hers, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” His voice was soft, whispered almost, “His interest… I just want to be careful.” While she couldn’t see, she knew that his lips would be pressed into a line, eyes probably trained on a shoe scuff on the hardwood.

  “Don’t worry. I have no interest in a murderer.”

  Sukuna saw through Yuuji’s cheerfully slit gaze, the gorgeous expression of the woman he once knew. Proud. Independent. She always did throw caution to the wind, even when he would say her life was on the line. Even so, his chest ached. Not with sorrow or desire, but knowing those were the words she had said to him when she was brought to his shrine. Said in the same way, with the same disinterested glint in her eyes.

   Bonus:

Yuuji’s lips connected with hers, gently pecking and barely touching. As he pulled back, the remnants of his prior expression melted into a smile, “Need to get down, Mary-Jane. I’m getting dizzy hanging like this.”

  He barked a laugh, hand grasping the pole as he bent at a 90 degree so that his back exposed to her. She used her core strength to pull her legs away from the pole, minding her shoulder’s ability to rotate. As hand released their grasp, she landed on his back, legs wrapping around him. Yuuji came to a stand, his new-found partner wrapped at his shoulders and waist, “Does that mean you’re spiderman?”

“I shoot white stuff and get a spicy kiss? Hell yeah it does!”

 Taglist:

@auroria @wasabito @juliansbby @missalexbaskerville @3rdgymbros

#⛩.fic #⛩ #🍺.fic #🍺 #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itadori yuuji #yuuji #yuuji itadori #☄️.fic #☄️ #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji x reader

[themirokai]

POI 02x11: 2 Pi R

Well we’ve gone from the total high of Shadow Box to … this one. I think when deprived of the “Finch and Reese help a number” format, the show kind of lost its way and that’s reflected most in how they used Carter. So here’s some thoughts. Not so much with the GIFs this time.

1. I liked the dynamic between Fusco and Finch. Fusco had useful stuff to do. He and Finch worked well together. Fusco was kind of protective of Finch.

As much as I adore Finch and Reese, I think they’ve been disdainful and dismissive of Fusco to the point where he doesn’t feel like he can go to them for help with HR. (Oh I guess I’m doing the mini version of my Fusco rant here…) I’m hoping this episode starts to build a little more trust.

2. Let’s take a moment to appreciate Carter bringing the glam and being absolutely stunning.

Original

Appreciated? Good, cause now I’m going to rain on the parade. When I first saw the glow up, I was like “oh, this series has never before made this gorgeous woman wear a tight dress. That’s kind of neat.” But the more I thought about it the more I asked why exactly she had to do it at all. This felt like The Show saying “hey, don’t forget she’s conventionally sexy too!” instead of something that flowed naturally for the character or the story. Which brings me to…

3. Everything that Carter did after that was, in my opinion, a disservice to her character. She said early in the episode that she crossed the line a long time ago, but did she? Look I don’t have the best memory for this stuff, so I warmly welcome people telling me I’m wrong about this, but I think Carter’s work with Team Machine has largely consisted of turning a blind eye at strategic times, taking actions that lead directly to keeping innocent people safe or bringing bad people to justice, and providing information to people who she believed were doing good.

What she does in this episode is way the hell over the Rubicon from that. There’s the breaking and entering and tampering with evidence and impeding a federal investigation. I could probably get over that (though where the hell did she learn to pick a lock?).

But she straight up roofies a completely innocent dude!! I guess they were trying to establish that she asked him about his medical history to make sure she wouldn’t kill him or something but that doesn’t change the fact that drugging someone unconscious is felony assault in NY! (Yes, I looked it up.) This wasn’t to save someone’s life. This was to get John out of jail. You mean to tell me that brilliant Harold couldn’t come up with some way to get John out that didn’t involve Carter - who previously had a firm moral compass - assaulting a totally innocent person? Heck, they couldn’t get Zoe, a more morally flexible character who already dresses like that, to do that part?

Ok the more I think about this the more annoyed I get. Let’s move on.

4. Michael Emerson is a great actor. It was great to see him get to flex a bit here.

5. I could be getting this wrong (again, please correct me) but I think this is the first time since season 1 episode 2 that Harold’s disability is discussed in any way.

In the earlier episode Harold tells the number that if she runs he can’t keep up with her. Here…

Harold: May I remind you that of the many things I’m equipped to do, pursuit would not be chief among them.

I think it’s interesting that there’s been so little on this so far. I know the broad strokes of the back story so I know they’re going to get to it, but having this line in this episode highlighted how absent this kind of discussion has been so far. I’m not really sure what I think about that, other than it seems notable to me. Do we think Harold is uncomfortable speaking about this with John but doesn’t mind this time cause he’s talking to Fusco? Or do we think that this was a kind of OOC thing like other stuff this episode? OR am I overthinking this like I do with lots of stuff????

Music notes: I didn’t pick up on any notable music this episode. Did I miss something? But I still have Gimme Shelter stuck in my head from watching Shadow Box and then listening to it a bunch of times after that. Of things that could be stuck in my head (mostly songs from Blue’s Clues, tbh, i have a 5 year old) this is pretty great.

Side note: An episode without Bear is kinda sad.

#miro does poi #person of interest #I’m looking forward to the next episode #but this one didn’t do it for me #obviously I think #2piR

[vintagedolan]

lucid locations (gbd)

while one full year of wakeheart and an impending candle launch are definitely moments to celebrate, you might just have another plan for the ceo’s attention

word count: 7.5k

warnings/tags: ceo!grayson, lots of smut, 🥵  is all im sayin

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Between construction at the house, the warm California summer and an inviting pool right in the backyard, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had on more than a bikini top, running shorts and one of Grayson’s shirts. He was the same - mostly running around shirtless in his shorter shorts, maybe throwing on a tank top if he was building. When you’d packed up to take haven from the construction dust and noise, headed for a rental house in Malibu, you’d had to convince him he needed to pack more than his new speedos. 

Needless to say, getting cleaned up and ready for a black tie event was quite the shift from your usual day to day. The makeup you were swiping on felt almost foreign, especially the lipstick. But the hand that made it’s way onto your bare back was all too familiar. You relaxed into it, smiling at Grayson in the mirror. 

“God damn.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes, closing them when he leaned over to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“You look so good,” he hummed. “But can you look good 6 inches to the right? I gotta clean up my beard.” Your eyes went wide, lip jutting out as you moved over, opening up the spot in front of the sink. 

“Don’t shave it.” You blurted, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just cleaning up the edges. The scruff stays.”

“Good, it makes you look very... ceo-ey,” you grinned, reaching over to run a finger over his jaw, feeling the coarse hair there that you loved so much.

“What, I don’t look ceo-ey with a baby face? Not even in this fit?” He gestured down to himself in his speedo, striking a bit of a pose.

“King of business. Steve Jobs is quaking. The bulge really sells the whole look,” you teased, scrunching up your nose. He belly laughed at that, a hand moving to his chest as if to brace himself until he moved forward to you, spinning you around a bit so he could press his nose to yours.

“Can’t blame me when you insist on getting ready in a bra and tiny shorts,” he mumbled with a grin, fingers ghosting up your bare sides as if to reiterate his point. 

“I’m enjoying the ethan-has-his-own-bathroom perks of this house, sue me.” His lips brushed against yours just barely as you spoke, so light that it almost tickled. 

“I’m enjoying it too.” He pressed a kiss to your lips gently, a small one. 

“Don’t smear my lipstick bub,” you cautioned nicely, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sighed at that, eye meeting yours and just looking. It was the type of gaze that made your cheeks as warm as your core.

“Bring more so you can fix it later. You’re very kissable right now.”

“And you’re very sappy,” you mused. He always got sentimental on big occasions, excited to make new memories. “And kissable.” You gave in, giving him a quick one, ignoring his attempt to deepen it. “We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late to your own event.”

“The CEOs have to be a little late, I think it’s customary,” he tried, but you just shook your head, covering his lips with your hand.

“Shave, I gotta do my hair anyways. And I’m probably gonna need your help with my dress.” 

That was enough motivation for him to get on with getting ready. You’d been sneaky, not shown him the dress you’d picked out for the evening. It was your first black tie event that you’d gone to ever, and definitely the first one with him at your side. You wanted to look good next to him, look good in the pictures you knew were going to be taken that he was no doubt going to post and probably print out to add to his photo collection too. It had butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you did your hair the way you liked, keeping it simple and making sure it framed your face.

It took you a little while, and you smiled when Gray wandered back into the bathroom in his suit, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck just as you finished. You let out a low dramatic whistle, breaking it off into a laugh when his cheeks turned your favorite shade of pink. 

“Help.” He walked over to you, lifting his chin up so you could better access his bowtie. You went to tie it immediately - you’d taught yourself last week when he decided to wear one. It made you smile as you recalled the two of you sitting on his bed, him shirtless with just the bowtie around his neck while you practiced, the spitting image of a male stripper from a bachelorette party. You’d been laughing so hard that it took you a ridiculous amount of times to get it. Luckily now you got it on your first try, proud of yourself as you straightened it out.

“Is it dress time?” His eyes flashed a bit when you nodded in response, heading for the closet where your garment bag was waiting. You pulled it out, having to hold your arm up high so that it didn’t pool on the floor as you moved it to the bed. 

Grayson rubbed his hands together in anticipation before he balled them into fists, the full embodiment of a kid on christmas, but in a 6 foot body. 

“You look like you’re gonna combust baby, chill,” you teased, shaking your head as you slipped your shorts off. You felt his eyes on your thong, the smallest one you owned. You still weren’t sure it would work - only one way to find out.

You reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor before you leaned down to scoop everything up and toss it the laundry. 

“I like where this is going.” His voice had dropped a bit, eyes taking you in from head to toe.

“Oh yeah? Well, get excited,” you teased, reaching into the Target bag on the floor to pull out a few nipple pasties. “These bad boys are coming along for the ride.” You wiggled them around dramatically in the air before you turned to the mirror to put them in place. Grayson watched, entirely unfazed.

“Okay, go stand in the bathroom for a minute,” you instructed, pointing to the door. He balked, eyes going wide.

“What? Why!?”

“Cause, you seeing me wiggle into this thing will ruin the allure. And I like surprises.”

“But I wanna see,” he pouted, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. You weren’t sure how a 6ft man in a tuxedo could look so soft, but he pulled it off.

“You will see, in like two seconds,” you teased, pushing gently on his chest as he walked backwards towards the bathroom door. He was still pouting when you closed it.

Taking a deep breath you went back over to the garment bag, pulling the zipper of it down to reveal the fabric you hadn’t seen in a while. Just laying there it looked almost innocent... almost. But when you put it on? You’d never felt like such a bad bitch - even in the fittings you’d felt powerful, sexy. 

“Do you have it on yet?” Grayson’s voice was impatient, a bit distorted. He was biting his fingernails, you could tell. 

“No, just gimme a minute,” you laughed, coaxing the dress off the hanger and carefully stepping into it. The fabric was silky but dense, with enough structure to give your body shape and enough flow for it to be flattering. It was a deep purple that reflected in a way that made it almost blue when it caught the light. The cleavage was there, but subtle, and that subtly was made up for with an open back. The material pooled right over the curve of your ass, leaving almost your entire back exposed, held up by the tiny straps over your shoulders.

But once you had it on, you remembered your favorite part, the main reason you’d bought it besides the color. 

The slit.

It was high. So high that it was borderline inappropriate, but still just classy enough. It tapered up at your hip, leaving your entire left leg open to the air. And as you’d feared, the lace line of your thong was visible. 

“Let me see,” Grayson whined from behind the door. You knew if you didn’t give in he was going to come out anyways.

“Alright alright, come in!” You called to him. He wasted no time in getting the door open as you stayed where you were in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do about the underwear situation.

“Holy. Fuck.” 

That caught your attention, and you turned to see his face. He was smiling, but his mouth was wide open, jaw slack as he looked you up and down. You expected him to get it together after a few moments, but he just stood there, awestruck, eyes never leaving you. 

And then, to top it off, he finally took in a raspy breath, coughing a little. You opened your mouth to say something, but he held up a finger and moved towards the bed, rummaging around by the bedside table. 

It was a sight you always wanted to remember - him, puffing on his bright red inhaler while standing there in a tux. 

“Wow, that good huh?” You couldn’t help the ego boost that it gave you to see him so undone just from looking at you.

“You got room for this in your bag? Might need it later with you lookin’ like that.” 

You rolled your eyes a bit, but you held your hand out anyways, taking it from him and sitting it down next to your bag. The fabric tape you’d bought peeked out at you and you pulled it out with a sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable looking stuff, but you didn’t have much of an option.

You moved back in front of the mirror, reaching up to your thong and hooking a finger through it and pulling it down.

“What’re you doing?” His mouth sounded dry as he spoke. 

“It was showing. Can’t wear any with a slit this high.”

“You’re actually trying to kill me.” He watched you step out of them with hooded eyes, which turned to confusion when he watched you open the packaging on the tape. “What’s that?”

“Fabric tape. Keeps everything where it needs to be, ya know?” 

“You can’t just wear the dress?”

“Do you want the entire Wakeheart team to see my vagina tonight?” You laughed, quirking an eyebrow at him in the mirror. He scrunched his nose at that idea, staying quiet while you got everything arranged and taped.

“Okay, tell me if you can see anything.” You spun around slowly, trying out a few different angles with your leg that you might do during a photo. 

“You’re good. I fuckin’ love that dress, it looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you baby. You look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself.” You fixed the collar of his shirt with a smile. He brought his wrist up, checking his watch - his green rolex, of course. 

“Ah shit, we gotta go or we really are gonna be late.”

You just nodded, moving to the box with your new black heels and pulling them out. Grayson held his hand out for them and you handed them over, blushing when as you watched him crouch down and reach for your foot.  

“I can do that you know.”

“I know.” He grinned up at you before he looked back down and guided your foot in, his big fingers giving him a few problems when he got to the tiny clasps on the straps. “These are stupidly tiny.”

“I can get em,” you offered again, but he just waved you off, sticking out his tongue as he focused and finally got the buckle to thread through. The left shoe went easier, even though you had to hold onto his shoulder while you balanced on your right. 

He stood up when his work was done, eyes flashing wide when he looked at you.

“You’re so tall now. That’ll be nice for my back.” The question must have been clear on your face, because he answered it. “Don’t have to bend down to kiss you.” 

“Shut up and put your shoes on,” you laughed, kissing him quickly before moving to check yourself in the mirror one last time - even you had to admit, you looked damn good. Grayson got his Louis shoes on quickly, tying them and coming beside you, phone in hand. He pulled you against him so you both fit in the mirror, posing like you were on a red carpet just for his phone. 

“Turn around.” His voice was gruff, and when you did as you were told you knew why. You couldn’t help it - he took the first picture of just you looking up at him, your back on display. But by the time he snapped the next one, you snaked your hand down, white nails bright against his black pants as you cupped him over the fabric, his bulge already growing. 

“Don’t.” 

He snapped the picture anyways. 

“You sure?” You didn’t have to lean too far to get close to his ear now that you had on heels, and he rolled his neck as he sucked in a breath. His eyes flashed to yours, desperate and angry and wanting all at once. 

His hand fell over yours, pulling you off of him by your wrist. “Later.”

“Promise?” It rolled off your tongue as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, the effort he was using to stay put together obvious. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before he let go. “Yeah, fuckin’ promise.” 

He saved the last picture under my eyes only and put his phone away, taking your hand as you grabbed your bag and followed him out of the room. 

------

“Does my hair still look okay?” You turned to Grayson, a bit nervous that you’d undone all your hard work.

With gentle fingers he fixed a few strays that had come loose. You should have known that they were going to play Cudi the whole way to the venue - it was a Dolan celebration after all. The boys always got hype, and you couldn’t help but join in, dancing along and singing at the top of your lungs. For your mood? Wonderful. But for your look? Maybe not so much.

“You look perfect.”

“Promise?” You quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what you were doing and loving every minute of it.

He sat back down in his seat further, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Ethan noticed from the front seat, watching for a moment and then deciding he should probably mind his own business. 

Grayson’s eyes were serious when he turned to you, leaning over so no one else heard your conversation.

“We have photos in like 5 minutes. I’m begging you. Behave.” 

You pondered it for a minute - how many times had he fucked you up, got you turned on in public when there was nothing you could do about it? But there was a sincerity in his eyes and his voice that you couldn’t ignore. 

Did you like being told what to do? No. But for Grayson? You’d do just about anything.

“Fine,” you conceded with a grin, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “But only cause I want you to be able to post the pictures without your dick showing.”

“How considerate of you,” he rolled his eyes, but it was light hearted. He laced his fingers with yours, thumb running over your skin as his excitement mounted every minute closer you got the venue. You watched out the window as the fancy buildings started to emerge, signaling that you were getting close. Malibu had a more relaxed yet somehow more exclusive vibe than LA, and it had your heart racing.

“You’re gonna be fine, it’s just cameras.” He had somehow sensed your nerves, putting his own aside as he tried to comfort you instead.

“You’ve done this before, of course it’s not scary for you.”

“True. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time, which means you have nothing to worry about,” he countered, almost asking you to challenge him on it. You just nodded, picking up your purse from the floorboard.

“When we get out can you stand in front of me? I don’t wanna accidentally flash anybody.”

“Of course baby. I thought thats what the tape was for though,” he mused.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“We’re here, you guys ready?” Ethan turned from his spot in the passenger seat, excitement written all over his face. He reached back, hand extended to his brother, his partner in all this. You watch them do the handshake they could do in their sleep, a silent communication of excitement and support. 

And then, it was time for the show to really begin. It was a bit of a blur after that, mixtures of adrenaline and nerves. Grayson opened your door, standing tall and broad as you stood up, got your footing and adjusted your dress to make sure all was covered. And then he offered you his arm, prideful grin on his face as he showed you off.

It was a blur after that. You vaguely remembered pausing in front of the backdrop, a simple white with the Wakeheart logo scattered across it. You took a few serious pictures, giving your best sultry look, but mostly you just smiled, so proud of your man for all he worked so hard for.

At one point he stepped back from you, gesturing towards you proudly. It took you a minute to register that the photographers were calling out for you to pose, just you by yourself. You did your best, posing and looking where you were called. 

You only relaxed when Grayson reattached to your side, leading you down the rest of the carpet that stretched up to the venue. You posed for a few with both him and E just for fun, the three of you goofing off and just being yourselves before you made it to the end, the doors open to reveal the inside of the venue. 

“They want some of just E and I, do you wanna wait out here or do you wanna go sit down?” 

“I’ll go sit, save my feet. Have fun!” You kissed him quickly, vaguely aware that a few cameras flashed. You reached up and wiped a tiny bit of lipstick off his lip before letting him go, watching him head back over to his brother. 

You weren’t alone for long - you’d barely made it into the room before Sterling saw you, lighting up and running over to you. She was in a floor length green number, the sparkles on it catching the light from outside.

“Ster! You look amazing!”

“Says you! Holy shit! You rode in with the boys right?” You nodded, starting to look around. “Do you think they’re gonna like everything?”

“Oh they’re gonna love it, for sure.” 

The room was dim, colorful lights all around giving just enough brightness to make it functional without ruining the vibe. It only took you a second to realize that each light was specific; purple, blue and a light orange, just like the Enterlight collection. There were little Wakeheart touches everywhere, from the little mini fragrances on the tables to the logo printed on the name cards at the tables.

“Your all’s table is at the front I think,” Sterling offered, pointing up by the stage. “I gotta go find Daniel, I’ll find you later!” She disappeared to find her boyfriend and you headed in the general direction of the front, weaving through some of the tables.

“Y/N!” 

You turned, lighting up as you realized the call had come from Deon who was beelining for you, the biggest smile on his face.

“De!” was all you could get out before he had you wrapped up in a hug, almost lifting you off the ground. It had been too long since you’d seen him, too long since he’d come by to hang out after the first few times that you’d hit it off. 

“You look hot as hell girl, damn!” He praised, and you blushed so deep that you were sure he could see it, even in those lights. 

“Did Kai get to come?” 

“Yeah, he’s getting us drinks, wanna meet him?”

“Of course! Gotta see what all the hype is about,” you nudged his shoulder, taking his hand as he lead you over to the bar.

Kai was taller than you’d pictured him when Deon had described his boyfriend, but he was beautiful enough for all De’s constant gushing about him to make sense. The introductions went well, and you almost forgot where you were until someone cleared their throat.

“You guys gonna get drinks or what?” The bartender that spoke was a burly guy, too much muscle, and probably too old to be happy as a bartender if his tone and glare said anything about him.

“Oh right, sorry! Just uh, two mules for us. Y/N?” Deon looked at you expectantly.

“A mojito for me please,” you kept up the niceties, trying to stay pleasant. Maybe he was just having a bad night. 

“I hate making those.”

Niceties? Gone. 

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re getting paid.”

“Suppose so,” he grumbled, passing over the two mules to Deon and Kai. They took the gratefully, giving you a little wave before they headed off, so caught up in each other that they didn’t even register the conversation. You stood up a bit taller now that you were by yourself, practically daring him to try something.

“You here by yourself?” 

“No.”

“Don’t see anybody with you.”

“So observant.” You let the annoyance seep into your tone, but you were right in assuming that he was the type of guy who didn’t give a fuck if the women around him were uncomfortable. 

“Where’s your man then? Not a smart one if he’s gonna let you walk around here wearing that by yourself.” The way his eyes raked up and down your form didn’t sit well with you. 

“He’s a bit... occupied. And considering I’m the reason there’s a bar here in the first place tonight, I suggest you watch your mouth and make the drinks before the CEO changes his mind.” 

“What she said.” 

You’d know that voice and the hand that slid dangerously low across your back anywhere. Apparently, the event planners must have shown the workers who the whole party was for, because the man behind the bar changed his tune immediately.

“Mr. Dolan,” he greeted, so serious that is almost made you laugh. “Can I get you anything sir?”

“You can get my girl what she asked for, and you can watch your mouth. That’ll be all.” 

You weren’t sure how a guy the size of the bartender could look sheepish, but he managed it as he handed over your mojito. 

“Thanks! Have a great night!” You hoped your insincerity was blatant enough as you took your drink and waved back to him, letting Grayson’s hand guide you as you turned around. 

“Hi baby, how were the rest of your pictures?” You asked as you walked to the table, chasing your straw with your tongue for a moment before taking a sip. 

Grayson just shook his head at you. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You shrugged, enjoying the compliment and lifting up to kiss his cheek in thanks. He pulled your chair out for you before you sat down, settling beside you. As you expected, he was a hot commodity, a stream of people coming up to the table to give their congratulations. It only got more constant when Ethan found his seat on the other side of Grayson, everyone making sure they got their moment with the boys. 

Grayson was fully engaged, and you did your best to listen, focus on what he was saying, accepting the little nods of acknowledgement everyone was giving you.

But you were much more focused on the way Grayson’s hand was reached back so he could keep a hand on your thigh, his diamond ring cold against your skin as he squeezed every once in a while -  a little reminder that he appreciated you being there with him. 

It was innocent enough - but the mixture of him in that suit, the professional tenor of his tone, the lights, the fact that his hand was big enough to cover all the way across your thigh. You couldn’t help it - you shifted your legs just barely, only then realizing just how wet you were. 

It was wishful thinking that he didn’t notice. And of course, right at that moment there was a lull in the congratulations. He turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” 

You smoothed out your dress when you stood up, hoping your skin didn’t look as flushed as it felt. 

“Hey. We gotta talk at 8. Don’t leave me hanging.” Ethan’s tone was all too knowing, and if you hadn’t already been blushing you would have when he fist bumped his brother. 

You took Grayson’s hand, his Rolex cool against your wrist as he lead you out of the event room, down a small hallway and to an elevator. He hit the button labeled R, and you both waited as patiently as you could. As soon as the doors were closed he was on you, both hands on your face, thumbs over your jaw as he pulled you to him. 

You melted into him, molding to his form, whimpering when his right hand traced down your back, crossed over and tucked under the fabric of your dress, fingers ghosting over your bare hip. 

“Fuck, forgot you ditched the panties,” he groaned, turning in annoyance as the doors dinged and opened. 

There were very few things that could have pulled your attention away from Grayson at that moment - the view was one of them.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, looking out at the rooftop that the elevator had brought you to. It was a garden of sorts, lots of greenery and flowers all around. But the real stunner was the view over the ocean, a perfect Malibu beach stretching out, visible even in the dim twilight that had settled over the sky while you’d been inside. 

“Figured you’d like it up here. And it’s private.”

You turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Private.” You swallowed around the word as he came closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. This time you got your piece, hands coming up to his neck, searching out any skin you could find over his collar. He one upped you, both hands moving down your back, under your dress and over your ass, squeezing and massaging as he reached further, getting dangerously close to where you needed him most. 

“We can’t, Gray we can’t.” Your words didn’t match your actions, whole body jolting when his hands moved out of your dress, right hand resting on your hip from the front now, the slit just making it that much easier for him to gain access. 

“Why not?” He mused, kissing along your neck. 

“Cause we can’t go back down there looking fucked out. We’ll be home in a few hours.” There wasn’t even a flicker of conviction in your voice, and he just shook his head, unwilling to hear it.

“Can’t. Got me fucked up down there, calling me CEO and shit, hyping me up to that piece of shit. Don’t think I’m gonna make it home without at least a taste.” His hand traced left, ducking under your dress. You gasped as the tape peeled off your skin, leaving you vulnerable. 

“Fuck Gray,” you whimpered as his hand cupped over you, your knees buckling underneath you at the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick. 

He groaned at what he found, other hand coming up to the back of your head, chasing your lips with his as you gasped when he started to move. 

“Just hold onto me baby, I got you.” His voice was deep in your ear as you clung to him, his arm wedged between both of your torsos as he worked you over. But just when you were really getting there, legs shaking, he pulled away, leaving you exposed and cold in the evening air.

You were about to complain, but the look he gave you told you he was far from done.  

“You’re on watch.” His voice and the wink he threw you had your already weak knees about ready to give out as he sunk down, moving your dress away like a curtain.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your hip before he ducked down, holding onto your thighs as he dove in with a wide tongue, finally getting what he’d been waiting for. And even if he hadn’t told you to you would have been bracing yourself on his shoulders.

“I like these heels,” he murmured when he pulled back for air. “Gets me a better angle.”

“Fuck, Grayson.” Something about you using his full name had him diving back in with a vengeance, tongue rough and active, only pausing to suck on you in the most delicious way. 

Your eyes rolled back, hands finding his hair, not caring if you messed it up as you held on, twitching a bit as he hummed at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You forced yourself to focus, watching the door to make sure no one wandered up to the roof, found the star of the whole affair buried in your pussy.

But something else caught your eye - a little clock, number shining blue.

7:58pm

“Gray, G-Grayson, stop, stop it’s almost 8, you have to - fuck - you have to go,” you warned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull him away from you. 

“Gotta keep my promise first,” he said, only speeding up, knowing you were close from your breathy tone and your quivering thighs. Sure enough, all he had to do was add his finger and you were completely undone, calling out his name and bracing on his shoulder so you didn’t collapse. 

He stood back up with a triumphant grin, ego booming as you just stared at him, working through the aftershocks. He checked his watch and clenched his teeth, giving you a nervous look.

“Hell yeah, one minute to spare. Take the elevator.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek and jogged off, leaving you panting and alone as he disappeared down the staircase. 

“Jesus christ,” you huffed, trying to walk forward on your wobbly legs as quickly as you could, doing your best to pull yourself together. It was all deep breaths and attempts to ignore the wetness on your thighs in the elevator ride as you tried to re-stick the fabric tape with no luck.

The only reason you didn’t go to the bathroom to get yourself re-situated was because you didn’t want to miss the boys speech. So you quickly made your way to your seat, sipping on your drink to try and cool yourself down while you watched Ethan attempt to fix Grayson’s hair at the side of the stage. Oops.

They walked up eventually, waving and acting as humble as ever while the room applauded them. Grayson looked entirely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just been nose deep in your pussy 60 seconds ago. You tried to manifest the same energy, pretend like you weren’t still practically dripping sitting there in your dress. 

But when he looked right at you and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away what you knew was you? You clenched around nothing, biting down on your straw. 

It was going to be a long rest of the night. 

They thanked everyone for coming, and for all the support of the brand over the last year. They shouted out everyone on the team, giving them the praises they deserved. Grayson slipped in a little moment for you, a “thank you to my amazing girlfriend who always smells every sample I bring home and isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion, and who keeps me sane and supports me through every step of everything I do” that had your cheeks burning as all the eyes in the room sought you out. 

When they were done he wasted no time in putting his hand right back on your thigh as soon as he sat down, smirking a bit when he wrapped around and found just a trace of wetness.

“Easy. My tape won’t re-stick,” you warned, not wanting him to get too frisky and accidentally move your dress. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay close to me then huh,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss that you gave him happily. 

The rest of the night went smoothly, from the meal to the social hour afterwards. You stayed on Grayson’s arm, right where he wanted you as he made his rounds, made sure he spoke to the executives that he and Ethan had invited, got the advice he’d wanted to ask about. 

Before you knew it midnight had come and gone.

“You ready to get out of here baby?” 

“Hell yeah.”

Perks of dating a 20 year old CEO? He has his own driver when he wants it. But to your surprise, the man who drove the three of you there handed him keys instead of leading you to a car. 

“Had em drop off the porsche in case we wanted to ditch early and Ethan didn’t.” He answered the question he knew you had, leading you to the familiar blue car that was waiting on the side of the street. 

“Always the planner,” you teased, squeezing his arm before he opened your door for you and helped you in. 

“I do run a company you know,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you one more time before he picked up the rest of your dress and put it in the car so it didn’t get closed into the door.

You watched his every move as he went around the front of the car and climbed into the drivers seat, starting it up and revving it up once just for good measure. 

As soon as he pulled out of the spot you were leaning down to unclasp your heels, groaning in relief when your feet were freed.

“Better?” 

“So much better,” you sighed, relaxing back in your seat as he plugged the rental address into the GPS and started down the road. 

“Those shoes have their perks for sure. Sorry they hurt you though.” He palmed the wheel as he turned and you bit your lip, remembering exactly what perks he was talking about.

Now it was his turn.

You reached over, hand resting on his thigh, nails digging in just barely. He twitched, foot pressing a bit on the gas, lurching the car forward.

“Easy baby,” you cautioned, turning in your seat so you were facing him, fingers tracing up further, gauging his reaction.

“What’re you doing,” he asked as if he didn’t know, eyes trained forward on the road. 

“Keeping promises,” you mused. “Got me fucked up back there.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as you repeated his words from earlier, unbuckling his belt and pushing it out of the way as you spoke. 

“Yeah? How’d I get you so fucked up baby. Tell me.” 

“You know exactly what you did,” you reminded him, popping the button open with your nail, coaxing the zipper down to reveal his Calvin Klein briefs that were already getting stretched as he got harder and harder.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he grunted, knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“Could barely walk to the elevator when you ran off, my legs were all wobbly. Made me feel so good,” you explained, stroking his ego and his bulge simultaneously.

“Fuck yeah they were, and you still made it down for my speech.” You reached up under his waistband, pulling his underwear down enough for you to get your hand around him. His hip stuttered as you started to work him over like only you could. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you hummed, using your thumb to trace the vein on the side of his shaft, up over the tip with just enough pressure to really fuck him up. 

“Shit baby. Just like that.”

You did as he said, twisting your wrist over him as he grew in your hand. When your knuckles grazed over his balls the porsche jolted again, making you grin.

“Careful. Can’t fuck you if we don’t make it home.”

“If you weren’t so fucking horny we wouldn’t have a problem,” he huffed, looking at his phone to check the ETA. 2 more minutes. 

“Can’t help it. You in a suit just gets to me,” you admitted, batting your eyelashes a bit just for fun. You didn’t count on him dropping his right hand from the wheel and reaching over to you, shoving your dress to the side and immediately cupping over your already sensitive folds. You jolted in your seat, squeezing his dick in your hand. 

Two could play that game. With a wicked grin, you shifted, closing your legs so he couldn’t reach you and leaning forward, dropping your head.

Before you could get very far his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back up so you had to look at him.

“Wait.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded at his command, sinking back into your seat as he pulled the porsche into the driveway, typing in the gate code, fingers drumming on the wheel while he waited for them to open. He pushed the gear shift forward into park as soon as he stopped, looking over to you.

“Wait.” He said again, opening his door and readjusting himself back into his pants before he came around to your side of the car. He opened your door sweetly, offering you a hand.

As soon as you were on your feet he was crouching, shoulder hitting your hips before he grabbed and lifted, practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You squealed, trying to find purchase against his back, hands balling up his suit jacket in an attempt to hold on. He was unfazed, even taking one hand off you to unlock the door. 

By the time he made it to your alls room on the top floor you’d gone limp, knowing there was no point in fighting him. You missed his face while you couldn’t see it, smiling when he leaned forward at the edge of the bed, let you fall on top of the comforter, bouncing slightly. 

“Dress on or off?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He pondered it for a minute, eyes darkening as he imagined both scenarios, played them out in his head.

“Off,” he decided. You nodded, standing up and pulling one of the straps off over your shoulder. His fingers found the other before you could, pulling it off so that the top of your dress fell down, revealing your breasts. You looked down with a laugh, almost forgetting about the nipple pasties you’d put on. 

He cupped them anyways, thumbs running over the little petal shaped cut outs, the muffled sensation of his fingers on your nipples making your back arch, asking for more. He was gentle as he peeled them away, not wanting to hurt you, ducking down to kiss each one when they were free. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he licked over them, kissing his way across. Your dress continued to fall down, gathering at your hips until his hands found it and pushed it the rest of the way off.

“Much better,” he grinned, guiding you back until you fell on your back again.

It was quite the show, watching him strip out of his suit in front of you. He started with the jacket, tossing it away without a care before he started working at his bowtie. 

You couldn’t resist - you sat up, untucked his shirt from his pants, hastily fumbling over the buttons, pausing to run your hands over his abs as soon as you saw them. He groaned at that, especially when you leaned forward to kiss his warm skin. He got the tie off somehow, working from the top button and meeting you halfway before pulling it off. Just him shirtless in those fucking pants was enough to have you fully worked up again, and you laid back down, watching him pull his belt off through the loops, undo his button and pull everything down at once. 

Your mouth watered, ready for him, but to your surprise he crawled on top of you, resting just enough weight down to pin you to the bed. He was beaming as he looked down at you for a few moments, just taking you in.

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you, surprised but warm nonetheless at his sudden change of mood.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too.” There was no question. “Proud of you.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He pulled back, readjusting so he could line up. You opened your legs a bit wider to make room for him, anticipation mounting as he rubbed himself over your folds for a few strokes. His lips found your forehead as he finally pushed in, stretching you out as he slowly let you adjust to all he had to give.

“So fuckin tight for me, every time baby, fuck,” he huffed out, sinking down further onto you. If you had room to, your back would have arched as you drug your nails over his arms, overwhelmed at how deep he already was. 

He dropped to his forearms, rocking above you so hard that your whole body moved across the bed with each thrust. You clung to him, arms moving around him, scratching at his lower back.

You couldn’t even form words, the only things falling from your lips being his name and a constant stream of whimpers, punctuating each drive he made into your heat. Every time he pulled out his tip ran across that spot deep inside you that had you squirming, body unsure of whether you wanted to run away or get closer, overwhelmed by the force of the sensation. 

He knew you were close when you started to clench around him, walls fluttering in a way that pushed him towards the edge like nothing else ever could. 

When your orgasm came, it was almost too much. You cried out, clinging to Grayson as he continued to pound into you without mercy, only spurred on when you bit onto his shoulder, riding it out before your body went limp for a moment, completely fucked out.

“Almost there baby, fuck,” he groaned, sitting up and grabbing your hips with both hands, holding you up as he chased his high, lost in you entirely. “Want your mouth.” 

Somehow in your blissed out state you managed to sit up enough for him to get close enough to you and your waiting tongue. It only took a few quick strokes before he was cumming, hips stuttering as he unloaded into your mouth. You found the energy to suck him dry, taking all he had to give before he guided you off, much too sensitive for you to keep going. 

He laid down beside you, rolling to his right to find your hips and pull you on top of him. Neither of you moved a muscle for a few minutes, just trying to get your breathing under control and your heart rate back down to an acceptable rate. When you finally got enough energy back you made your way up to his face, catching him with soft and lazy kisses over his lipstick stained lips, drinking each other in. 

You knew that the pictures would run tomorrow, and your faces would be everywhere. You could see all the headlines about Grayson in your mind: CEO, youtuber, famous, heartthrob; every girl that saw him in that suit would be just as enthralled as you had been. But none of it mattered. Because they didn’t get your Grayson, the Grayson who picked you up and carried you to the shower twenty minutes post fuck, helped you take your makeup off and made you laugh until your stomach hurt when he washed his hair and spiked it up in a soapy mohawk like a six year old. That was your Grayson; your CEO, your heartthrob, for the rest of your fucking life. You relished in the thought as you curled up to him that night, loving the weight of his arms around you as you drifted off. 

#so... heres this #SURPRISE :) #grayson fic #lynds writes #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #gray #pls pls pls lemme know what you think IM NERVY