#the gentlemen oneshot

[theophagie]

Once again thinking about the. th.

#once again telling the sickos to read terrible [honorific] oneshot Dogma #mpreg horrors ladies and gentlemen ! #mytext #dogma #bnha #char tag #afo #animanga #afofa

[make-me-imagine]

Bounty's and First Meetings

Plot: After learning of a bounty out on Raymond Smith, Y/n decides to warn him, hoping to save his life.

Prompts: "In case you haven't heard, there is a bounty on your head." "Is that why you're here? To kill me and take the bounty?" "No. I'm here to protect you." + “For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.” <prompts altered slightly in dialogue

Requested By: @will-grammer

Pairing: Raymond Smith x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of guns. Since I tried my best to write this accurately in character and what-not, there is some swearing in it lol.

Words: 2.3k

-

When one of your informants showed up at your door, you expected another tip about a robbery, or a potential scam by a competitor. What you were not expecting was the bounty put out on Raymond Smith.

"A bounty on who?" You asked, your interest piquing.

"I can't recall the name, but it's Mickey Pearson's man, his number one."

You felt your heart jolt in your chest, "Raymond Smith?"

"Yeah yeah, that's the one!"

"Do you know when this hit is supposed to happen?"

"Might be tonight, might be tomorrow, who knows?"

"You have anything else for me?"

"Nah, that's it" He smirked.

You let out a sigh as you thanked and ushered your informant out. You needed to contact Raymond, let him know what was happening. As you pulled out your phone you hesitated, fearing tipping him off on the phone might be too risky.

Quickly grabbing your keys, you headed out, you'd tell him to his face. Besides, it was about time you met him face to face.

You and Raymond Smith had known each other for quite a long time. You helped him out, he helped you, and eventually somewhere along the way, you became friends. You talked over the phone, text, email, everything except in person.

There were times you had almost met, but it never happened. Something last minute always changed the plan. You had met many of his associates, hell, you've even met Mickey Pearson himself, but you had still never met his notorious right hand man.

There was a constant curiosity between the two of you of what the other was like, in looks and in day to day life. Tonight, as you sped down the road fearing for his life, the same curiosity ran through your mind. Hopefully he wouldn't be too angry with you showing up at his house so late.

As you reached his house, you scoped out the area before walking up to his door. Ringing the doorbell, you took a step back, waiting with impatience and building tension.

A few moments later the door swung open, and the confused face of Raymond Smith appeared.

Your eyes scanned over him quickly, noting the perfectly slicked back hair, dark glasses framing blue eyes, and a nicely knit cardigan.

'Wow' your initial thought crept up on your without warning. 'Definitely wasn't expecting that' You admitted to yourself.

Looking down, you saw his hand hidden behind the door, and you assumed, naturally, there was a weapon in it.

'Always be cautious.' You recalled him telling you once.

"Who the fuck are you?" Raymond finally spoke after he took a long look at you.

You quirked your brow "Wha- Bitch, don't be rude. Is that how you treat all you guests?" You spoke with both an amused and irritated tone.

Raymond looked taken aback for a second before recognition crossed his face at the sound of your voice.

"Y/n?"

"Howdy." You said with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was laced with curiosity and confusion.

You rocked back and forth on your feet "Well in case you haven't heard, there is a bounty on your head."

Raymond adjusted his stance and smiled softly "Is that why you're here? To kill me and take the bounty?"

You rolled your eyes lightly "Good to know you think so highly of me. No. I'm here to save your life."

"Oh, is that so?" He said with amusement as he opened his door, motioning his head for you to come in.

Stepping into his foyer, you saw him set down the gun that he had hidden behind the door. You smirked, before you looked around.

"Nice place." You commented.

"Thank you. Drink?"

You shook your head "No, I'm good."

As Raymond began to poor himself a drink, you saw him eyeing you. You had a feeling you were both silently deciding what you thought about the other.

His eyes ran over you briefly as he poured his drink. You were definitely not what he was expecting you to be like, not that he was disappointed. Quite the opposite in fact.

Your behavior and general "look" in person seemed to pique his interest. Not to mention that you came all the way here to warn him of danger. He smiled softly to himself for a moment.

After he took a sip of his drink, he narrowed his eye "How'd you hear about the bounty?"

You noted the way he spoke, as you walked into the kitchen "An informant, same one that tipped me off about that guy going after Mickey's farms a few weeks back. So you already knew about the bounty?" You asked, having noticed he seemed unfazed by the information.

Coming around the counter, he stopped in front of you as he shoved one hand into his cardigan pocket and tilted his head. "Of course I do. I'm the one who made it."

Slowly blinking as you processed what he said, you spoke with obvious bewilderment "You what!?"

He smiled softly at your alarm "It's all part of the plan."

As he walked past you towards his dining table, you watched him with bewilderment.

"Care to expand on this plan?"

As he sat down, he motioned for you to sit as well. As you did, he began to speak.

"About two weeks ago, a hit man tried to kill both Mickey and his wife. Luckily they failed, but barely. The hit man escaped, and we don't know who called the bounty. So, I called one out on myself, hoping the same hit man shows up so I can find out more."

"You do realize there are multiple hit man looking to kill off anyone involved with Mickey Pearson? Meaning multiple hit men could show up here at any point?"

"I suppose that's true."

"Suppose? Are you an idiot?!" You asked with alarm.

“For the most part, I can in fact, be an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.” He said with mild sarcasm and amusement.

You leaned back in your chair and closed your eyes, letting out a deep sigh. "And you decided sitting at home alone, was a good idea? Don't you have someone to watch your back?"

He smiled "Well that's why you're here isn't it? Or is that piece in your pocket for comfort?" Looking down briefly towards your inner jacket pocket, where you had your gun hidden, he met your eyes again.

You nodded lightly "Yeah, and you lucky I like you enough to want to save your life you jack ass. Please tell me you have more to this plan, besides just sitting around to be killed?"

He chuckled "Of course. We knew enough about the hit man that went after Mickey to make sure he's the only one who knew about the hit on me. So unless he's hankering for some competition, only one hitman should show up." He paused for a second "How'd you know where I lived anyways?"

"I know a lot more than you'd expect."

He smirked as your eyes locked for a few seconds as he took one last swig of his drink. Setting it down on the table, he continued to eye you as he tilted his head.

"I suppose that's why Mickey doesn't want you for an enemy. He likes to call you the 'Secret Keeper'."

You smiled softly, noting the curiosity that lingered beneath his gaze.

"A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept." You quoted softly.

He smirked "And yet you'd die poor if it mean betraying those whose secrets you keep."

You let out a soft laugh "You underestimate my determination to learn the secrets of my enemies and use them against them then."

"No, I've learned to stop underestimating you by now. I was referring to our secrets. Mine, Mickeys."

You shrugged your head "Friends are more important than secrets. Took too long for me to realize that."

You could feel his intense gaze burning into you as silence filled the room. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you heard a noise outside that caused both of your instincts to kick in.

Your eyes locked, and a knowing glance passed between you as you both stood quietly, and crept towards the windows. As you peered out, your eyes landed on your car, where you saw a figure creeping by. Reaching into your pocket, your hand wrapped around the handle of your gun. As the figure looked around, you felt confusion wash over you.

"What?" You whispered to yourself, causing Raymond to look over at you.

You met his eyes "That's my informant."

He furrowed his brow "He followed you?"

You shrugged your shoulders just as something clicked in your mind. You looked back at your informant who peered into your car's window before looking around.

You looked over at Raymond "You said the only person who should know about the hit, is the hit man right?"

Raymond nodded before you saw realization flash across his face.

You looked out the window again "God dammit." Holding up your hand to Raymond telling him to wait, you made your way towards the side door.

He watched you with curiosity as you slowly crept outside. As you disappeared around the corner, worry crept over him.

Walking around the side of the house, you saw your informant staring at the house in front of him. Tucking your gun behind your back, you watched him closely.

"Toby!"

Your informant jumped a bit before he turned and looked at you. He smiled as he waved, quickly putting on a front you did not fail to notice.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your voice laced with feigned curiosity.

"Damn Y/n, you scared me." He laughed "Look, after I told you about that hit on this Raymond guy, you seemed pretty spooked. I figured you were gonna gone after this to warn him, I was afraid you was gonna get yourself killed, so I thought I'd follow you. Ya' know, for backup, in case you need it!"

You rose your brow as you slowly stepped towards him "Well that's kind of you Toby."

He smiled and nodded as he looked around again.

"You looking for something Toby? Or maybe someone?"

"What?" He laughed softly as asked as he looked back towards you, clearly growing antsy.

"You know Toby." Your hand gripped your gun as you swung it out and pointed it at him "I don't appreciate being used."

Lifting his hands up he let out a nervous laugh "Woah woah, Y/n, what the hell?! What's going on here?"

As Raymond stepped out of the darkness behind him, gun draw, he spoke "Oh I think you know Toby."

You saw Toby's face fall as his hand's twitched. He swallowed before he locked eyes with you. "Too obvious huh?"

You shrugged your head "A bit."

"What now?" He asked, his voice low.

"Now, you have two options." Raymond began. "One, you try to take me out, and we kill you. Or two. You tell me who put out the hit on Mickey Pearson two weeks ago, and I let you live."

Toby let out a dry laugh "Doesn't sound like there's much in it for me."

"You mean besides living?" You asked dryly.

"Yeah, besides that."

"Alright, I'll tell you what. I'll sweeten the deal for you." Raymond spoke as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "I'll transfer you the bounty money I promised for my death as well."

"The money you promised? He spun around and looked at him with bewilderment. Man you called the bounty on yourself?!"

You looked over at Raymond with a knowing look. Locking eyes with you for a moment, he shrugged lightly before looking back at Toby. "We got a deal or not Toby?"

Toby moved awkwardly on his feet for a moment as he looked from Raymond, to the phone in his hand, and back over to you.

"Damn." He whispered under his breath "Alright, but I ain't got no name, just a number."

"That'll work." Raymond said as he slowly lowered his gun.

Glancing at you, you nodded your head softly, signaling you still had his back until this was over.

You watched carefully, ready to act, just in case Toby changed his mind. You didn't let your guard down until Toby disappeared into the night and you and Raymond made your way back inside.

You sighed as you set you gun on the table "So much for me coming here to save you. Ended up leading the hitman right to you."

Raymond smiled "Well it worked out either way. I got the information I needed, well, enough of it anyways. And your informant's still alive."

"You mean the informant whose ass I'm kicking tomorrow?"

"I don't know, you might consider keeping in his good graces, he seems useful."

"Only if he doesn't take a bounty out on me."

Raymond's brows raised "You have a bounty?"

You shrugged "A few. But none with my actual name."

He shook his head with amusement and bewilderment. "You sure you don't want a drink?"

You smiled and shook your head as you grabbed your gun and tucked it back in your jacket.

"No, what I need is sleep." You smiled at him "Maybe I'll see you around Raymond, now that I know your face."

He smiled as he walked up to you "No need to be a stranger. Come by any time. I'll make you dinner." His smile curled a bit at the suggestion.

You rose your brow "You mean those wagyu steaks you brag about nonstop?"

"Yeah, I mean those."

You hummed as you turned and began heading towards the door "Sound's tempting. I may just take you up on that."

You turned back around as you opened the door, seeing Raymond still smiling at you "Please do." He said softly.

You smiled and bowed your head lightly as you left, your heart beating a bit faster than it was before. And not because of the near-assassination attempt you narrowly avoided.

Dinner with Raymond Smith? That was definitely something to tempting to refuse.

xx End xx

This was my first time writing for Raymond, so apologies if it's a bit dry. I'm hoping to write for him again soon (maybe the dinner part??? idk lol)

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Raymond Smith Taglist: @will-grammer

If you want to be tagged in any future Raymond fics let me know :)

#Raymond Smith #The Gentlemen #Raymond Smith x Reader #Raymond Smith x gn!reader #the gentlemen reader insert #raymond smith/reader #the gentlemen x reader #raymond smith imagine #raymond smith oneshot #oneshot #one shot #the gentlemen imagine

[unforgivenn]

WOLLEMI DAY 8- TOOK A TUMBLE

CW: Pet whump, young whumpee, coercion, trauma, minor character death, self blaming, manipulation, regret, failed escape attempt, future punishment mention, captivity, psychological distress hehe, false hope

Caleb's heart pounded with adrenaline as he sprinted through the darkened streets, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Somewhat relieved that he had a chance from getting out of Dominic's clutches as he ran towards what he hoped was actual freedom. He tried keeping his mind on positive things. Like how he had totally not drugged his owner and killed one of his guards. Even though it was in self defense. That's what he tried telling himself again and again. Trying not to pass out by seeing the man's blood on his hands.

He felt guilty. How could he do something so.. so selfish? Maybe the man had a wife at home. Hell, maybe even children! The picture of his dead body entered his mind again and he felt like vomiting out all the nauseousness in his stomach. His breath hitched trying to find anyone, anyone that could help him before Dominic's men or god forbid, Dominic himself caught him.

He continued running trying to get out the thoughts about the man out of his head. H-He shouldn't feel guilty. The man had caught Caleb mid escape and tried taking him back to Dominic. In turn, Caleb panicked and threw the thing nearest to him at his head. A vase. A fucking vase. At this point, he probably deserved to get punished by Dominic. Maybe he could just go back. Maybe they didn't notice he was gone yet.

No no. Fuck. That's stupid. They're probably on my tails right now. Lost in his thoughts, he looked ahead. The neon glow of the Police station beckoned like a like a beacon of hope in the night, promising safety and sanctuary from the horrors he had endured. He let out a small cry in happiness, tears fully streaming down his cheeks as he ran towards it.

Caleb burst through the doors of the station, relief flooded through him like a tidal wave. He stumbled forward. Surely they would see the desperation in his eyes and offer him protection from his tormentor.

"P-Please" Caleb pleaded, his voice hoarse and dry. "Y-You have to help me- He's going to kill me- I-"

The officers exchanged glances, their faces etched with sympathy as they guided Caleb to the sitting area shushing him when he mumbled incohorently.

"Take a seat, son." The officer's voice a soothing balm against Caleb's frayed nerves. "We'll do everything we can to help you. Just take a deep breath and tell us what happened."

Caleb's hands trembled as he recounted the horrors he had endured at the hands of Dominic, his words tumbling out in a rush of fear and desperation. Failing, to put all his thoughts in words. "H-He- I-" He stumbled over his words.

The officer sighed putting a calming hand on his back. "Calm down. You're going to be alright. You can tell us what happened later alright?" Caleb gave a small nod holding his head between his hands before he suddenly looked up at the officer.

"I- I killed a-a man. I'm murderer.." His breath hitched, the officer just simply shook his head.

"Try breathing. In and out. You're not a murderer son. I believe that was simply because of the situation that you were forced to." Caleb felt somewhat relieved at his words, maybe.. no he would definately be okay now. Dominic can't hurt him here.

After only a few minutes, the door to the station creaked open making Caleb's head snap towards the source of the sound.

"Oh kitty.. Looks like you've got yourself in quite the predicament." Dominic's voice dripped with both amusement and disappointment.

Caleb's breath caught in his throat, failing to form words. He took a step back until his back hit at one of the officer's chest. "P-Please h-he- Y-You have to help me-" The color drained from his face as they greeted Dominic with smiles, pushing Caleb towards him.

"No!! No please! H-He'll hurt me! No!" Caleb was thrown towards Dominic who just held him as if he was nothing but a mere ragdoll. Caleb's heart sank like a stone as he choked on a sob—Dominic's influence extended even into the hallowed halls of law enforcement.

Caleb couldn't do anything but sob. So he did that. He sobbed as Dominic dragged him back to the car. As the guards threw him in the basement. As Dominic came towards him to punish him for causing him trouble. Because he knew that he could never get away from him. In that moment, the hope drained from his eyes, leaving behind only the resignation to his fate. The plan definately took a tumble.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump scenario #my writing #whumblr #Caleb #Dominic #my ocs #my whump writing #whumpy oneshots #Intimidating whumper #Creepy whumper #broken whumpee #regret #self blaming #killing the hope hehehe #this was.. #longer than expected #pet whump #pet whumpee #young whumpee #whumper #whumpee #wollemi whump event #wollemi day 8 #Took a tumble #uk like how the whole plan took a tumble #nah cuz i spent too much time thinking what i could write for this #more of my coffee induced writing ladies and gentlemen

[xxskycrystalxx]

remember once upon a time when I took prompt requests for my great plan of a palmerstrange one-shot series? well… I’ve had them sitting in my docs for about a year now and I think I might just be 80% ready with the whole thing.

poor things, been sitting in my docs collecting dust ;) will get to finishing the last of them after I rewatch the movies and gain more inspo! also open to taking more prompts, just in case I don’t want to write some of the other ones lol

#it’s coming I swear #I only have three(? oneshots left to finish and they are hard 😭😭😭 #my inexperience is showing ladies and gentlemen #anyways people have probably forgotten but I will never 🥲 #palmerstrange #fic ideas #marvel #mcu #my writing

[sp4rrowdoll]

Hey do you have any thoughts on fem!Robin? Can be anything tbh I just really like fem!Robin alot 👉👈

Oh yes! I have a ton of thoughts about fem!Robin! (Spicier thoughts below the cut)

I've been turning her over in my mind for a while, trying to figure out how exactly my perspective on her differs from masc!Robin, and I think it comes down to this: I think she has a lot more moxie and gumption than masc!Robin does - something closer to Anne Shirley or Pippi Longstocking.

In fact, she got called those names a lot growing up, and as soon as she could, she cut her hair short to help diminish the comparisons. Nowdays she keeps it in a pixie-cut that's as close as possible to a men's haircut without drawing attention to herself. Her hairstyle is a good representation of her personality—while she's initially quite shy, and struggles with a lot of anxiety, she's quite puckish and mischievous underneath the thin veneer of "the quiet girl next door."

The pc noticed that she was uncomfortable with the girl's school uniform a long time ago, and you managed to get Leighton to agree to let her wear a pair of boy's shorts instead. As soon as she gets home, however, she'll shuck the school uniform and opt for a pair of old, worn overalls with grass-stained knees. She still loves to play videogames, and can absolutely kick your ass, but she's also a fan of touching grass, and helps you in the gardens as much as possible. As a present for her one winter, you embroidered some of her favorite flowers along the overall straps.

Another good way to differentiate between her and masc!Robin is that masc!Robin would have to be cajoled and carefully couched before he was comfortable biting you during sex. Fem!Robin is willing to snap playful at your fingers as you undress her from the get-go. Fem!Robin is also a member of the itty-bitty-titty committee, and it actually played a big part in her realization that she was bi. Initially she attributed the attention she paid to other women's breasts to jealousy, but after a while she realized that she liked having small breasts, and that she really just wanted to touch and hold other women's breasts.

Part of the reason she's so comfortable with having small breasts (aside from the eventual bonus it is for her cross-dressing/binding) is that she has very sensitive breasts and nipples, and with breasts as small as hers, she doesn't need to wear a bra.

Eventually this becomes a game you play together - you buy her pretty, lacy lingerie and make her wear it to school, where she spends the whole day tormented by the sensation of the clinging fabric sliding over her skin, and across her sensitive nipples.

And then when the two of you get home, you can take your time and unwrap her like the present she is.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol robin #robin the orphan #f!robin #implied? f!reader? i guess? #i hope this is what you were looking for anon! #also if anyone wants me to turn the part under the cut into an actual ficlet/oneshot...👀 #anyway....ladies and gentlemen....*she* #all versions of robin have sensitive chests

[brokenhardies]

Life on Mars (reprise) - Cover

"I think... The story hasn't ended yet."

After witnessing her parent regenerate into his Fourteenth incarnation but with the face of his Tenth, Jane has a sinking feeling that something's not right. It definitely doesn't help that, after being involved in a digital Dalek invasion, the pair land in London... Right into Donna Noble, who shouldn't remember them because if she remembers them, she'll die.

The universe is sending Jane a message, as her own clock ticks over and her song's about to end - she must discover the mystery of who this new/old doctor is, why it's all gone back to Donna Noble... And what's it got to do with Donna's daughter Rose, and her plush creations that resemble creatures they've fought before...

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on here?"

#OC: Jane #story: life on mars #ladies and gentlemen... her #idk if im going to write their stories as a formal story or just write #a bunch of oneshots lol #but yeah five is going through it rn #lost her mum got her dad back prevented a dalek invasion and now? #yeah its messy lol

[rosietrace]

『 So this is love..? 』

Characters: Victoria Shard, Clarabella, Aldrich Edelweiss (@revivemyreverie)

Pairing: Victoria Shard x Aldrich Edelweiss

Mentioned: Lady Larissa, Valentine Edelweiss

Synopsis: Love can come in many different forms. One of which involves blood soaked fingertips.

Warning(s): Implied murder, Aldrich being Aldrich, mentions of Aldrich killing a girl, me not being normal about them, how did this oneshot even get conceptualized, potential ooc

[ Apologies for any out of character ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

↳ Victoria Shard, the beautiful manipulator

It was a beautiful night in the Edelweiss empire. The imperial family had taken great lengths to make sure that tonight's gala was one nobody could forget.

Aldrich was not among them.

He found the event lifeless and mundane, not to mention the number of witches in his midst didn't make it any better.

Aldrich began narrowing his eyes at his younger brother, Valentine, whilst he was mingling with the other nobles.

The servant beside him hesitated in pouring him another glass. “My lord,” they called out. “You seem to be in a sour mood. Might I pour more refreshments into your glass?”

Aldrich shook his head. “No,” he replied bluntly, little to no expression on his face. “That won't be necessary.”

Pursing their lips, the servant beside him gave him a curt yet nervous nod before backing away to give Aldrich his space.

The fact that I'm required to participate in such events is already a pain as it is…. Aldrich thought, leaning against his father's throne - The one he was ‘destined’ to sit on as the heir.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. And there's quite the number of witches in appearance…. If I'd had my knife with me, I would've….

He chuckled sinisterly at that thought. “I'll put that into consideration. In case…. One of them is enabling my already putrid mood.”

His words easily disturbed the servants nearby, as well as the other guests. Alas, that didn't seem to stop the numerous princesses, duchesses, or some daughters of a marquess or viscount from ogling at him.

He slouched ever so slightly, his frown deepening.

“If only you were here, my savior…”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

“So this is the girl?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Clicking her tongue, Victoria placed her hand over her hip, glowering at the poor girl looking up at her - Tied to a chair, mouth covered by rags and slightly bruised.

“Give me information,” Victoria ordered.

The servant beside her - Clarabella - nodded, unbothered by the muffled cries of the girl.

“Name, lady Larissa. Daughter of viscount Larissa,” Clarabella continued, keeping her eyes closed. “An avid churchgoer, and strikingly similar in appearance to the girl prince Edelweiss had once searched for upon said girl's death.”

A hum left Victoria's lips. “I see….” she looked back at Clarabella. “Anything else?”

Clarabella shook her head. “Not much, your grace. However, it should be worth noting that Lady Larissa's presence should upset Prince Edelweiss.”

Or rather, both Edelweiss princes. Victoria knew that much.

She also knew of her lovely Aldrich's little secret. He killed that girl from the choir, all because she had been - in some way - involved with his brother.

And yet she didn't care.

A smile fell upon Victoria's face. One as sinister and bone-chilling as Aldrich's. How endearing…

From the nearby table, she picked up a knife. One that she had ‘borrowed’ from Aldrich.

With a simple motion, she grazed the edge of the knife against Lady Larissa's jaw. “You did nothing to me…” her jaw clenched. “And yet you continue to be such a nuisance.”

She let out a breath once blood was drawn from the jaw. Neither Clarabella nor Lady Larissa could tell if it was out of satisfaction or exasperation.

Suddenly, she pointed the knife at Clarabella. “This girl has no sense of importance to me,” Victoria spoke bluntly. “And yet…”

Clarabella bowed her head, beginning to leave the room - Well aware of what her mistress was about to do.

Leaving her with Lady Larissa - tied up, weeping, in her final resting place.

“Some part of me wants to tear you apart, myself…. If not for me, then for Aldrich.”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

His mood dampened as the night went on. Nothing seemed amusing enough, it seems.

The longer the night prolonged, the more witches came his way. And alas, Aldrich had not brought his knife with him.

Hell, he didn't even seem to hear the sound of trumpets blaring when it came time to announce the entrance of a guest who arrived.

That is…. Until their name was uttered.

“Presenting, lady Victoria Shard, heiress to the house of Shard!”

Aldrich shifted in his seat, eyes suddenly wide with his lips parted. In the distance, Victoria looked back at him, a radiant smile donning her face.

She was gorgeous.

When she finally approached, Aldrich took in every single little detail of the features of her face, body, and even the gown she wore.

The gown, the most. Intricate lace-made sleeves, and lovely ebony silks. Subtle, simple.

Yet breathtaking.

In the corner of Aldrich's eye, he catches a glimpse of red on the hem of Victoria's skirt. Visible enough to make it seem like a deliberate design choice, but not large enough to be the first thing anyone sees.

He knew better than to assume it was a deliberate design choice on his savior's part. Of course he would.

Kissing the back of her gloved hands, Aldrich looked up with a dashing smile. “My savior,” he said. “Care for a promenade in the gardens?”

Chuckling, Victoria removed his hand from hers to lift his chin. “In the gardens? Rather scandalous, don't you think?”

He giggled, relishing in the sound of her voice like it was a sound from Apollo's lyre. He nodded, wrapping an arm around hers and escorting her out of the ballroom, and into the gardens.

In doing so, he advised his brother to take over as ‘star of the show’. Much to his dismay.

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

“In the shining moonlight, you continue to bewitch me with the dazzling gleam of those lovely sapphires in the sockets of your eyes, my darling savior.”

She giggled while he guided her around the garden. “Oh my,” she replied. “Do I take that as a good thing, or a bad thing?”

His smile widened a little. “Take it however you'd like, my dear. You shan't escape my grasp now after months of being together.”

Victoria smirked. “That I am aware of, my prince,” she spoke, kissing the top of his head.

Hearts seemed to appear in Aldrich's eyes at that moment. My prince. Sevens, that sounded incredible when she said it.

“My prince,” Victoria called out. “Don't you think this is a bit scandalous? Two of us, promenading here, unchaperoned?”

He chuckled, knowing full well that this was her way of teasing him. Nodding mischievously, Aldrich walked slightly ahead of her and turned around - The moon illuminating his silhouette behind him.

“Do you hate such a thing, my dear?”

Crossing her arms, Victoria shook her head in amusement, smile softening. “Oh, I could never.”

Very quickly halfway through their walk, Victoria noticed how Aldrich guided her throughout the garden.

It was almost like he was maneuvering her around to avoid running into something. Was he perhaps hiding something from her?

That shan't be the case. But then again, knowing Aldrich, Victoria knew that the possibility of avoiding a recently rotted corpse wouldn't be out of the question.

Besides, she'd do the same. Regardless, she thought it'd be good to bring that topic to light.

“Aldrich,” the young man in question soon found Victoria by his side once more. He looked up at her, tilting his head in curiosity, wondering what she was going to say.

“Are you maneuvering me around the garden?”

Aldrich paused, slowing down as he walked.

“My savior…” For a moment, and only for a moment, Aldrich's expression darkened. “Whatever do you mean?”

In tandem, Victoria matched his energy. Only this time, she didn't falter her now darkened expression.

“You shouldn't try hiding the truth from me, my dear,” she now stood in front of him, lifting his head by its chin just as she did moments before. Only this time, it was for a different reason.

“Please, my dear, do tell me the truth.”

She soon moved her hand from his chin to his cheek, eyes softening. In response, Aldrich placed his own hand over Victoria's.

“I have not a clue what you're on about, my savior,” he replied, leaning into her touch.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Victoria inched closer to his face. “You need not hide the truth from me, Aldrich.”

It was odd, really. Her own way of saying: I don't care what you do, I'd still love you, anyway.

Sighing, Aldrich leaned his forehead against hers. “You know me far too well for my own good, my darling.”

That essentially confirmed all of Victoria's suspicions. And she didn't need to know any more than that.

Slowly, in an attempt to ‘beg’ for her forgiveness, Aldrich removed her gloves. He kissed the back of her bare hand now, almost far too passionately than he had originally intended.

And when he pulled away, he looked back at his beloved, smiling.

He didn't utter a word about her blood-soaked fingertips. Because he couldn't give a damn.

In their eyes, they can call whatever they see - As love.

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

Taglist

🥥 @starry-night-rose @windbornearchon @nem0-nee @authoruio @fumikomiyasaki @sakuramidnight15

@revivemyreverie @revolllutionary @spadecentral @geminiiviolets @oseathepebble @twsted-princess @vaporvipermedia @vivaresmala @celiica @grandi-flora

#ladies and gentlemen - aldrich edelweiss: the bane of my existence #this man..... why is his dialogue so hard to write #at this point all the dialogue i'm giving him from now on is just ‘witch’ #the saturn/vic oneshots waiting to be posted while I have god knows how many drafts left: 🤡 #maybe if i finish all my oneshots my addams au will come faster 🤓 #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #victoria shard #aldrich edelweiss #pomefiore #pomefiore oc #twst ocs #twst oc x oc #oc x oc #oc x oc oneshot #im not normal about them your honor #mutuals oc #jokes aside i hope you like this rev 🧍‍♀️ (im delulu for them /hj) #night raven college oc #nrc oc #nrc ocs

[leviathanspain]

Can you write a Benedict Bridgerton fluff oneshot where Colin is best friends with the reader’s twin brother (and she with Daphne and Eloise) and Colin let’s it slip that he’s accidentally seen the reader in her nightgown amongst his and Anthony’s teasing of Benedict’s long-standing feelings for her and the reader happens to overhear?

little things

benedict bridgerton x reader

synopsis: the brothers teasing has finally made its mark, and benedict can’t hold himself back anymore

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

colin, anthony and benedict greeted you and your twin brother as you arrived to the bridgerton household. the bridgerton sisters followed, daphne and eloise smiling brightly at you as you returned their smile.

your twin brother, ernest, was swept up by the bridgerton boys. you turned back to raise an eyebrow at him, “be back soon! and nothing out of the sorts, i mean it, bridgertons!” you tried to use your best, stern voice as your brother was shoved out the door, most likely going to the local gentlemen’s club.

your brother was usually sent home in a carriage, practically spilling out the door with how drunk he was. it was funny the first few times, but now it was anything but.

daphne and eloise took you by the arms, leading you to their library for some discussion on the latest novel you have all been reading. “don’t worry about ernest, he’s a good boy, and colin will take him home as always.” daphne tried to comfort you, but thinking about it, it didn’t make it any better.

a few drinks in, and ernest excused himself. the three brothers watched him walk steadily out to find the bathroom before turning to each other.

“he’s a delight.” anthony remarked with a smile before downing his drink.

colin laughed, “i’ll say. his sister is turning out to be an even better one!” he swung his rum around in his glass, taking a sip while he turned a coy eye to anthony.

anthony picked up what colin was putting down and nodded firmly, “yes. a good set of childbearing hips, and she has a good set of lungs on her.” he raised his eyebrows at benedict, who knew exactly what his brothers were doing.

“i’ll have you two know, that lady y/n is a very intelligent woman. a good set of brains on her.” he nodded, happy with his answer as he swung a drink down.

“a good set of something for sure.” colin pursed his lips, “the modiste didn’t use too much fabric on her nightgown. i could practically see everything.” he nudged anthony who nearly spat out his drink.

benedict stopped moving completely, “what?”

colin shrugged, “her hips, every curve, every nook, every cranny. she’s gorgeous, brother. i understand why you fancy her so.” anthony quieted the conversation just as ernest walked back into the room, “listen boys, let’s call it a night shall we?”

you rushed down the steps of the bridgerton house as you heard the carriage pull up. you bid your farewell to the sisters as you walked out into the fresh london air.

the door to the carriage opened and out fell the three bridgerton brothers. anthony greeted you first, bidding you a quick goodbye as he strolled inside. colin did the same, avoiding your eyes, strangely, he booked it inside.

benedict took slow steps as you approached the carriage, his hands in his pocket as you stopped before him.

“my, my, sir bridgerton. i see that the night has served us both well.” you smiled, and benedict returned the smile, “only has it gotten better that you illuminate it once more with your smile.” he complimented you, “have a good night, lady y/n.” he grabbed your hand, gently placing a kiss on it before strolling inside.

as you hopped into the carriage, you saw your brother, slightly less drunk than previous times, still smiling widely though as he greeted you.

“sister- didn’t you have a coat on when we arrived?” he blinked once before throwing his head back, closing his eyes with a groan.

you looked down and realized he was right. you were wearing a long sleeved dress, and didn’t even realize you had forgotten your cost. good thing the carriage hadn’t pulled off yet!

you stepped down, and ran back up the steps to the bridgerton house. a maid let you in, and you ran back to the library to get your coat.

you found it sitting in the chair that you had been in, and you shucked it on.

you tiptoed out of the library and past anthony’s study, which had the door cracked open. as you approached, you heard loud voices echoing off the walls. it was the brothers, and whatever it was about, was clearly heating them up.

“-you can’t just say things like that, colin! you know how he feels about her!” one voice said, and you deciphered it to be anthony.

colin, you assumed, cleared his throat, matching the volume level, “i am drunk! and it’s about time he admits he loves her, im tired of trying to make him jealous enough to do it! i might as well marry her if that’s what it’ll take!” it was clearly about a girl, and it seemed like it was about benedict too.

benedict, the last one to say anything was sighing deeply, “you are so lucky i didn’t punch you out right there. how could you admit to seeing her in her nightgown?! she was indecent, and yet you joke about it like it’s something funny? y/n is a lady, her twin brother is our best friend!” benedict shouted back at colin, and you realized with a pang, that it was you they were talking about.

“fine, im sorry benedict. but you need to admit things to yourself. this isn’t just some childhood crush, she’s debuting next season, make sure y/n becomes your wife.” colin exited the room first, and as the door opened, your shocked face on the other side of it, it was like his face was lit on fire.

“y/n- lady y/n! i thought you left?” colin pushed the door open and his brothers stood up to meet him at the door.

you looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “i left my coat behind.” you looked at the three brothers and nodded firmly, “very well. i shall depart now.” you gave colin a glare before you started to walk away.

as you walked, you heard them whispering amongst themselves, and as you reached the door, a slap echoed into the hall and you stopped for a moment until you continued on.

as you walked down the steps to the carriage, a shout had you turning around.

“y/n!” all formalities had been thrown out as benedict stepped down to meet you, he panted slightly and caught his breath, “my brothers-“ he laughed, “are horrible.” he finished, “i apologize for what you heard, if you did hear anything but,” he reached down and grabbed your hands in his, taking you by surprise, “i suppose i needed this.” he chuckled slightly, “in order to do this.”

leaning forward, his lips met yours in a kiss, taking you in his arms, you kissed him back roughly. suddenly, it dawned on you where you were, and you inhaled sharply, pulling back.

“mr. bridgerton.” you couldn’t help but smile as you fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. his hand lifted your chin slightly and you stared for the first time in those big bright eyes, “i suppose you’ll see me tomorrow morning.” he let you go now, and you smiled, “i suppose so.”

he turned and watched you walk to your carriage, your brothers drunk slurs floating up to benedict’s ears as he carried himself back inside, his brothers already cheering from the doorway.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton angst #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton smut

[lokisgoodgirl]

Greetings, Loki enthusiast. Assume all writing is 18+. Individual warnings are labelled at the top of each post.

Collections

The Lakes 🍁 Based out of a tiny and remote cottage, your reluctant role as the resident 'outdoors expert' is put to the test by the frustrations and temptations of your recent ex-, Loki The Brother Collection Thor and Loki being ridiculous together in a collection of silly oneshots. Hostile F*cks Collection Loki forever finds new ways to irritate and infuriate you in a selection of erotic outfits. Why is that so goddam irresistible?

Clandestine F*cks Collection A secret relationship in Avenger's Tower is not an easy task, but with the insatiable Loki as your lover...is it an impossible one?

Fluff Library A collection of pure fluff drabbles.

One-Shots

No Mercy (1.8k) Teenage Dream (w/c 1.9k) Open Skies (w/c 2.2k) Supply Closet (w/c 1.7k) Be Mine (w.c 2.8k) A Quiet Storm (w/c 1.2k) Five Times (w/c 1.6k) Believe Me (w/c 1.4k) Peace (w/c 1.2k) My Girl (w/c 1.8k) Awful Things (w/c 2.8k) A Prince's Release (1.9k) A Lot of Boning (2.5k) All I Need (w/c 2.1k) An Offering (w/c 2.7k) Slower (w/c 1.9k) Third Date (w/c 2.4k) Stiff (w/c 2.4k) Husband (w/c 1.8k) Come After Dark (w/c 3.1k) The Quickie (w/c 2.1k) Heirs (w/c 1.9k) A Long Shower (w/c 2.2k) A Gentlemen's Agreement (w/c 3.2k) A Gentlemen's Bond (w/c 3.7k) A Battle of Wills (w/c 1.8k) The Prince is Dead (w/c 1.9k) Sundress Season (w/c 3.3k) The Urge (w/c 1.8k) Don't Be Shy (w/c 1.9k) Delayed Gratification (w/c 2.3k) Deeper (w/c 2.3k) Hail, Commander (w/c 1.6k) The Feast (w/c 1.7k) Size Queen (w/c 1.4k) The Legend of Long-Dong Laufeyson (4.8k)

Drabbles

Make me Melt (w/c 500) Cooldown (w/c 400) Some filth (w/c 200) Ride Me (w/c 200)

I don't take requests, but always feel free to say hello. Reblogs, comments and shameless thirst is appreciated and encouraged😊

Looking for an old favourite/collection? It will be on my PREVIOUS MASTERLIST (2022)

Other: Sexual Apocalypse Society (SAS) FAQ's

#loki masterlist #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #avenger!loki #loki of asgard #loki x yn #loki marvel #loki

[satorubi]

SLUT CERTIFIED — eren yaeger

꒱ ➛ SYNOPSIS : ❝ i mean…i can teach you, if you want. ❞

˚◞♡ who ?? : eren yaeger x black fem! reader

— ˚◞♡ before you read : minors DO NOT interact, a lil friends to lovers action goin on, this story is written with a black-coded fem! reader, switch! eren, submissive! reader, bimbo??? reader, college au, mentions of a bitchy sorority, tattoed reader, tattooed eren, i present eren the shy gangsta, loss of virginity, body worship, mentions of unresolved feelings, included kinks such as [ choking/ corruption/ breeding/ size kink/ overstim ] positions such as [ missionary/ mating press/ doggystyle/ cowgirl ] eren gives reader head ofc, reader do be squirtin a lil :o, reader and eren are both horrible at communicating their feelings bye.

— ˚◞♡ author’s note : me when i see the header photo on pinterest and get inspired. oh em gee this is my first fic that isn’t a oneshot hello ??? very excited to share this with you guysss. i’ve wanted to write a mini story like this for a while now but i hadn’t been able to get in the funk— BUT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE MADE ITTTTT !!!! the first chapter is in the works and should be posted later this month. [ hopefully ]

CHAPTER INDEX

I: THE HUMAN BODY IS A TEMPLE.

II : TESTING THE WATERS.

III : FLIPPING THE SCRIPT.

IV : WAIT, YOU FUCKED WHO?

V : THE NOT-SO AWKWARD ‘I LOVE YOU’ MOMENT.

©️ SATORUBI 2023 please do not copy, or repost as your own <33

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ saturn’s museum — #YALLLLLLLLL #oh my god #hey lol new fic comin out soon 😧 #eren yeager #eren yaeger #eren yaeger x reader #eren x black reader #black reader #eren yaeger smut #snk smut

[smolvenger]

My Lord (Prince Hal x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: After you dance with another man, Prince Hal, your royal intended has a confession to make...

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ (fingering, p in v sex, doing it on a desk), historical inaccuracies for the sake of vibes, grammar and spelling mistakes, angst and fluff.

Dick-tionary: Smut starts at “Kiss me again, my dove,” and ends at "You pressed foreheads, feeling his warm breath and how soft his skin felt- comforting, gentle. "

Word Count: 3K

A/N: From @muddyorbsblr's request! It ended up being longer, oops. But enjoy!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Despite your fine dress and the rich wine flowing, you felt somber at your betrothal ball. Not that the ball itself was a sad event. No, you were not merry from everything around you. It was all merry with the throne room decorated with flowers and jigs being played by the musicians. Your melancholy was due to your intended.

 Of all the good lords and gentlemen on this green isle, only one was destined to be the next king. And that was who you were going to marry. Your parents were thrilled when the king agreed to the marriage. They smiled and embraced you as an artist hugged their painting. They managed to sell you to the highest bidder.

His Majesty Prince Henry the Fourth of Lancaster. The highest bidder indeed.

 Or Hal, as the taverns ruffians called him. Hal. Riotous, dishonorable, pranking, thieving, tavern hopping, wench chasing, sack drinking Hal. Beautiful, princely, decadent Hal. Every time his brothers had to tell their father the truth of Hal’s layabouts…the king would turn red with fury. Not that you were surprised.

Even if the scoundrel you were going to call your husband had been kind to you these past few months. He would be by your side. And trying to win you over or get you to smile. Flirt with you- he did to hundreds of women at this point! No doubt! Your inner giddiness was mixed with a silent rage and you weren’t sure which would pop out first each time he got your hand and kissed it gently. Hal was beautiful. A handsome, handsome man who wore his doublets tight on his lean frame and walked with a swagger, his auburn curls freed about his head. There was a charm to his manner, and feelings were in you when you looked at him. Feelings you didn’t like. Feelings you didn’t dare name. 

For that, you remained polite. Never forward. Nice, but nothing more. For what else could you do? The world of court could be deadly and dangerous. The world’s eyes were on you. You couldn’t afford to make a reckless move.

Despite the garden walks and meals, there was that sliver of distrust. If you didn’t see him, he could be on the floor of the filthiest bar in Eastcheap passed out on the floor from drink. Or in a room with two tavern women in positions that would make a sailor blush.

And the last picture of him in bed with other women- it made you want to scream and sob and throw your goblet at the wall until it smashed into a hundred bits and then pick your skirts, march to the other end of the room, and slap him hard across his beautiful face.

You took a deep breath. 

It was just your imagination. Nothing actually happened. One inhale, then another exhale. The walls were grey stone, the candlelight yellow, and the music from a flute was playing something fast.

Why were you like this, you had to remind yourself! You didn’t like him! Why should that matter? You had to remember how much you didn’t care and didn’t like him.

 He could have every woman in England on their knees for him every night and you would not care. You would go about your merry way and when you didn’t have to squeeze out a son, you would enjoy the monetary benefits of servants, fine dresses, horses, gold, jewels, money to buy whatever thing you wanted, and the freedom to do as you pleased as queen.

You held your chin up. Only glad it was a lovely party. All were taking gentle sips of wine, sampling the roast boar, listening to lutes, and laughing over nothing. You felt like doing none. In a whole crowd of people, you felt alone, isolated, and cut off. Like a foreigner trying to make a friend but never knowing how to speak the language. They gathered and talked…and here you were. The most wanted and yet also the most unwanted.

Taking a deep breath, you continued to walk in to try to get your mind off of things.

There were dances as well. But you felt as if your soles were made of lead. For all were celebrating your marriage to this scoundrel.

This beautiful, delectable, leather-clad scoundrel. Looking at him across the room, something inside you churned. And you were frightened to name it.

 He was in the corner, talking to his brothers. You turned your eyes down. For the party was in swing and in a way, as if they forgot you were its purpose. They wanted to laugh and gossip and drink. Forget their worldly cares and be merry.

You brought your eyes up to search for him. Your heart beat a little harder seeing Prince Hal at the other end of the room. How delicious he looked. His tight leather jacket was the color of the wine. He preferred rougher, bawdier parties- that was why he was frowning as his father went up to talk to him.  And here you were, just to be tolerated as his bride. It seemed queenhood was a lifetime away, as was your marriage. For all of this fuss over you both being joined,   you couldn’t help but feel separated.

Taking a deep breath, you put both hands on your cup and took another sip, resisting the urge to gulp down your wine and let the alcohol take its effect.

As you walked in, the Lord of Warwick went up.

“My lady- here is my nephew, Thomas! He’s going to appear at Court more often!” the lord introduced.

You curtsied and gave a smile.

The Lord of Warwick’s nephew with his own blonde hair and blue eyes and skin that tanned. He was a polite, warm friendly boy. For having just met him, he left a good impression on you. The uncle even stepped aside to let you talk. Then Thomas held out a hand.

“They’re having dances. Would you give me a dance, my lady?”

“I would love to,” you replied.

You enjoyed his company as you danced. He was very good too- Hal himself had no “strength in measure” and was inches from always stepping on your toes the grand total of two times you danced. Passing between couples, joining, parting, and reasoning hands to the lute music. You felt at peace.

Little did you know Hal’s eyes were on you.

They were on you every time you the whole evening.

Prince Hal scowled. He was practically red with anger. The second the dance ended, he marched up to you. Thomas looked sickly pale and you felt your stomach drop. You never saw Hal himself have any anger and part of you was terrified. They always say it’s the ones who are never angry you watch out for. 

“My lord, what is the matter?” you asked after your curtsey.

“I would like to speak with my lady intended,” Hal ordered.

Thomas handed you over quickly. 

Amidst the ball, Hal grabbed your arm. Fie, his hand- large, beautiful hands taking a whole of your arm and dragging you to the hallways and through a door. Jesu, was he going to hurt you? Hal never once did anything that would harm you. He seemed too mischievous and cheerful to seem capable of raising his hand to a woman, much less you. There was a fierceness on his fast that made your heart race. You didn’t know if you were feeling lust, terror, or both at once.

The room was a study. The night sky shone outside, though there were lights from the torches and candles. None were inside-perhaps at the party. With tall bookshelves and desks, it would have been a comforting room had your heart been beating wildly against your ribs. 

He looked at you up and down. He saw your dress, how it formed you well, and hugged you in the right places. A warmth flushed over you, and you realized you were panting a little to deepen your breaths. But his face was still angry. Beautifully, beautifully angry.

“What, what is the matter?” you asked. Hoping to get this over with quickly.

“Quite a bit, that is the matter!” Hal replied, ruffling his curly hair.

You gestured at the door.

“My lord, they will notice we are gone. We have a party to attend to…”

Hal reached up a hand that he held in the air. You looked back at him. His voice remained soft, matter of fact, right to the bone.

“My lady, we have to discuss young Warwick. The way you were dancing at him, smiling at him.”

“Oh, him!” you said. You had deduced it. He just had to say it himself. 

“Yes! The look he was giving you like he would be falling before your feet any minute! Your smile at him! And you were encouraging him,  and I-”

“Are you jealous, Harry?” you interrupted, blurting out the obvious.

He turned a little pink.

“Yes, well- what if I am? Should I not be if a gentleman dances with my lady?”

“A lady can rarely turn down another man. My mother told me it is impolite to refuse a man’s offer to dance!” you reasoned.

Hal leaned closer to you.

“You have promised yourself to me, not him! You’re engaged to me!”

He paused and his mouth hung in mid-air. You saw his eyes were shining bright, he was…on the brink of tears. The jolliest scoundrel in all of England and…he was crying. When you imagined him with other women earlier…was that the very feeling he was having as well?

You closed the distance to him, you offered your hand and he took it.

“Hal, I am sorry. I didn’t think you would be upset or even care that I danced with him…” you consoled.

He brought up a hand and wiped a tear off with his palm.

“I forgive you, my lady. Only….That the way you were beaming at him, and not at me, I…I don’t even have words for it and- YN- it makes me angry because…because…I wish it were me you were smiling at…me and only me. That one smile. Then I’d know for sure that you’d love me and we could be find a way to-”

You gasped.

“What did you say?!”

Your face was closer to his, your voice even softer. He paused. His tears stopped.

“You…you love me?”

He flushed, hung his head low, and then back up.

“I do, my sweeting. I love you so much. I don’t know how else to say it or what speeches or things to give. If I am under your spell, I never wish to be out of it. I don’t ask you to love me back at all…I only ask you…you… pity me.”

His face was right before words. Your own mouth began to speak of its own accord. The music was softer, and distant, as if the ball was a world away.

“Hal…even with everything in Eastcheap, I…I… I…I cannot help but…but want to see you, and speak to you, I think of you and wonder what you are doing when you’re away. And I…I worry about you. I want you happy- more than happy, safe.”

He closed the distance and kissed you. The first kiss you ever had other than chaste pecks on the hand. You shuddered at it as he wrapped his hands around you, one hand crawling up your back. He knew his way around a woman’s body. And he knew what would make your knees tremble.  You melted into his arms, collapsing into the kiss, into the embrace. He tasted of wine, of freedom.

He let go. But it was as if something awoke that was long asleep. You let him keep his hands on you, to feel your body beneath your dress—one on your hip, fingers inches away from the most private, precious of places on you. You kept on babbling despite yourself.

“All the battles your father sends you on and… and…I was worried, worried you would die…worried something would happen to you- and then, the Eastcheap visits….I was worried…worried you and Doll would.”

“There were no whores. Not since we’ve met,” he replied.

You kissed him again, and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms to feel his back. Dizzy and drink on him. You heard his moan. 

He leaned back on a chair and had you straddle him. You gasped, feeling your legs come apart. Places between you were starting to dampen and it was just over where his most secret places were. You were never this close, this intimate with each other

“Kiss me again, my dove,” he commanded.

You kissed him again, his fingers crawling, up your leg. He found your hip and then moved you. You moaned from the friction, the touching and brushing of your bodies. 

But you wanted it, you didn’t stop him.

His hands were over you, greedily touching since you were all his now-his betrothed, his wife, and soon his queen- and he would make sure you never forgot it. He gave you a last grind of your hips. 

His hands desperately searched your clothes, trying to find the seams. But you were aching, going up for him, needing him.

“Hal- Hal!” you whispered

“And what if I do? I can’t bear it- the longer I’m with you, the more desire overcomes me- You drive me mad- I can’t, I can’t take it, my dear, my love-I-I have to ravish you, here-now-”

“Yes, you may…”

He slid aside the papers and books so the desk was clear. You swallowed, getting incredibly wet but excited with his flushed face. But his eyes determined, an animal after his prey. And nothing could tear him from his prize.

 He kissed you, prompting you to sit. He undid a bit of your bodice, pulling it down, finding your breasts. The cold air touched it as his pupils darkened over the sight of you. 

“You’re exquisite, darling, and you’re not his, you’re mine-”

Once they were revealed, he fondled them, thumb grazing over the hard nipples. You moaned appreciatively. All while he kissed your neck.

“Say it, say you’re mine,” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you replied.

He then freed a hand. It moved up your leg.

“All of this, this beauty, it is all mine-and I’ll drive you there, until you cry out for all of them to hear.”

slid a finger inside and you gasped, feeling it stretch you. You gasped as he curled up- surprised his long finger could go so deep, and find a spot that brought so much pleasure and pain as he discovered the little nub inside you. 

“My- my lord!”

He kissed your neck again, then looked at you, smugness spread on his lips.

“Yes….yes, call me that.”

He gathered your skirt up and then undid his codpiece and released his pants, standing at full attention. You gave a small gasp at the sight of his size. He looked at you darkly, a new tone in his voice- deadly and commanding, a king to his whore

“You will be good and make it fit, every bit of it. And you will call me my lord.”

His hands made your legs come wide apart, he moved you up. He was slow, entering you, so you got used to it. You let out a moan, tugging onto him.

“Yes…take it…like a good girl…take it.”

He forced your legs further apart, sheathing you in with a grunt. You let out a sound, your insides penetrated, clutching onto him, feeling your bare breasts against his leather. Your blouse fell lower, exposing both. He then gave a first, sloppy thrust. Then he was seated inside you.

“My lord!” you cried out.

“There-there- I will make you scream it louder,” he growled.

Then he began thrusting—his moans in your ear. You dug your fingers into his shoulders and grabbed your hips, keeping tight. The desk made a sound as you did. It began slowly.

“My-my lord, oh- gods- yes, there, my lord-gods-gods blood-”

It then picked up, your breasts bouncing and your heart racing. All you knew was him, felt was him. You were moaning even louder. It was a desperate, animal. Pounding his hips into yours.

He released one hand. It found your nub between. You gasped. He then strummed it with each deep, forceful, desperate pounding.

“H-My-My lord I-I-there-oh-oh god-I’m-I’m going-going to-to die, but- don’t-don’t-don’t stop-”

“You’re close, you’re-you’re close, darling-call me that-yes-now-fuck,yes-yes-

“Say it, say it when you cum-I’m-I’m going to cum-cum inside- cum, fie, lady- fie, it’s on me now- cum, fie, lady -cum!”

He picked it up incredibly fast, you held onto him, your pleasure spinning out of control. 

“Yes- close, close- come on now, give in- let go-”

With a grunt, his seed shot into you and the release of pleasure broke inside you. You didn't say his title but gasped. The light had hit you and made everything duller, things spun, and you felt as if you were in oblivion. 

In a final whisper, you only whispered once more “My…my lord…” Your nails dug into him- your lord, your intended, your prince, and your husband. A marriage not sworn but already consummated.

He pulled out, and then cupped your face, “as you are my lady.”

You pressed foreheads, feeling his warm breath and how soft his skin felt- comforting, gentle.

He helped you off and then readjusted your dress so all was well. Making sure the blouse covered you up and that your skirt was in place.

“Are you not hurt?” he asked.

“Not a bit.”

He wrapped a protective arm around you, leading you out. 

“Here…we must return to the party…I will fetch us some wine.”

“And…you can have the next dance, my lord,” you said.

He smiled at you- not a naughty smile, but a kind, genuine smile that burst with love.

“As you have all of mine, my lady.”

His smile shone brighter than any candlelight. He gave you a last kiss before you were on his arm, returning to the party. 

#smut #carrie writes #prince hal #prince hal x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston characters #angst with a happy ending #the hollow crown #prince hal fanfiction #prince hal x you #prince hal x y/n #prince hal smut #prince hal imagine #prince hal the hollow crown

[sorrowsofsilence]

Sinful Inflictions

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Fem!reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut 18+ (PnV, pls wrap it b4 u tap it, fem!fingering, male!receiving), mentions of religion, religious themes, and slight anti-religion.

Prompt:

“Are you ready to pray to me?” He asked, “Then get on your knees and bow.”

It's easy to ignore the eyes of God when you've always had a thing for the priest's son.

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @darkmxgician

(some tags are from older one-shots, so if you want on or off the tag list pls let me know! :3)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3

You patted down the way-too-short floral skirt you dared to wear upon entering the church, dipping your head gently in greeting toward the priest as he stuck out his hand. Your lips reluctantly landed on his aging skin, hesitating for a moment.

“Good morning Father,” You said warmly, but behind your tone lingered distaste. He smiled as he greeted you back and your eyes shifted from his in aversion, before landing on the gentlemen ahead: His son.

Nicholas smiled at you, his gaze enticing as he dipped his fingers into the holy water, his middle and ring finger twirling in the pool for a moment too long. His hand trailed towards his chest, acknowledging the holy trinity in a cross as he stared, completely fixated.

A faint warmth tinted your nose as you followed, your fingers grazing along the water in doubt, following a fabricated praise. Nicholas’ eyes followed your every move before his eyebrow raised slightly. You gave him a polite nod as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his chest lightly.

You sat down on one of the wooden pews, crossing your legs in anticipation. Would he sit next to you today?

You grew up with Nick, always attached at the hip. Your favourite day of the week was Sundays because you knew you’d get to spend time with the boy you’d been crushing on for years. As the two of you aged, neither had made any moves, despite the lasting tension always lingering between the two of you; until last week.

Last week Nick finally took a leap of faith, pushing you into the basement bathroom, and kissing you with complete desperation.

“I have been wanting to taste you for years.”

Smiling at his words you had pulled his body against yours, your hips rutting together. As you moaned against his lips Nick’s hands ran along your scalp before you then pulled away.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You had said, “Not under the eyes of God.”

Nick had scoffed, rolling his eyes as his lips attached to your neck, nipping and grazing at the skin, “I know you don’t believe any of it. You only ever come because I have to.”

His lips had trailed back up towards your ear, his warm breath cascading against you, “Plus if there’s a God, it’s fucking me.”

The two of you haven’t spoken since the kiss, but you squeezed your legs together in fervour, unsure of what today would bring.

As if he knew you were thinking of him, Nicholas slid into the same pew as you, gliding across the wood with ease. His slacks were loose, contrasting with his tight grey button-up that had the sleeves rolled just above the nape of his elbow.

He leaned into your side and your heart quickened at the minimal touch, averting your eyes as his devilish smile transcribed sinful thoughts.

“You want to get out of here?”

You looked around slowly before keeping your eyes ahead, worried others would hear as the choir began to sing, “Is that such a good idea Nicholas?”

His name fell off your tongue in a sultry tone, something that made him shift in his seat as he sat back up, facing the front.

“I need you,” he whispered.

With a racing heart, you dared not look toward him as your face warmed, “How?”

“In every way that you’ll let me.”

The breath that lingered in your lungs hitched in your throat, suffocating your mind with reprehensible images. You crossed your legs, squeezing your thighs together in shame as you imagined Nicholas’ hands roaming your bare skin. You had dreamed a dozen times of his disgraceful fingers pulling an orgasm from you in the church basement, your tongue bowing to his need and taking his moans as if they were yours.

You knew how wrong it would be to sneak off and succumb to lust, especially under the holy eyes of God in a place of worship; but the rush of how sinful it was, made you all the more lascivious.

“Meet me by the storage closet in five,” He spoke softly, but excitement radiated off of him as he slid off the pew and turned back towards the entrance. You didn’t turn to watch him, but swallowed with furor and counted down, waiting the allotted time.

Years of desire that had been pushed away led to this moment, and as your chest heaved nervously you excused yourself from the service, refusing to look at the congregation as you walked up the carpeted floor, entering the door that held the staircase to the basement.

With shakey legs, you followed the stairs down and turned a corner before being tugged toward someone.

Nicholas smiled down at you, his eyes lidded in infatuation as he wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you close against him, the heat radiating off of his body while he began running a hand along your back.

“What do you mean in every way?” You pressed your head against his chest as you took in a deep breath.

“Don’t pretend to be so innocent,” his low chuckle vibrated as he pulled out a key from his pocket, and unwrapped his limbs from your own. Nick reached for the nob of the storage closet, unlocking it before pulling your wrist, and beckoning you inside.

He quickly locked it, tossing the key into his slacks before turning to face you, and pushing you back against the wall with his hands. You watched as he quickly licked his lips in anticipation, before gracing you with a sly smile.

“I can’t hold myself back anymore,” He said as he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you tried not to smile, your hips swaying against his as your stomach churned. Your hands ran up his shirt before resting clasped at the back of his neck, holding him.

“Tell me you feel the same,” He breathed, and you nodded, opening your eyes to meet his smokey irises. You watched each other, waiting.

He pleaded silently for an answer, and without hesitating you placed your lips against his in desperation, pulling him closer toward you as he moaned into the kiss.

Nick’s hand began to roam underneath your skirt, grabbing at the skin before smiling into your caress, “You didn’t wear shorts, and you’re wearing a thong?”

You felt him stiffen below you, his slacks tightening against your exposed thigh.

“I guess I did,” You laughed softly, letting your hands run up his long dark hair, clawing delicately at his scalp.

He kissed you again, this time with more fervour and hunger, ready to devour your shameful soul. His tongue danced along your bottom lip in a lustful beat as he allowed himself to dip his fingers in your underwear.

Your body clenched in longing as you began to push into his hand, desperate for his fingers to graze your adorning skin. You craved Nick’s fingers, and you needed him to know.

“Please,” You begged into his mouth, “Touch me.”

He chuckled at your plea but obeyed, his tattooed fingers parting your desire as he ran them earnestly between your folds. Your abdomen twisted as his palm brushed your clit, before his fingers sunk through your arousal.

The fabric of your skirt rode up your thighs, exposing Nicholas’ immoral actions. He pulled away from your lips to watch, his mouth agape in thirst as he pumped his fingers in and out, curling them skillfully.

Your legs began to buckle and your brows furrowed in pleasure, a quiet whimper crawling from your throat as Nicholas then caught your eyes. A slutty smile splayed on his lips as he proudly fucked you with his fingers in a synthetic sacrament.

The sound of your heavy breathing took over the small, musty, room as your peak built in your stomach, ready to be released. It didn’t take long for you to come, and Nicholas praised you in divinity.

In a ritualistic fashion, he pulled his fingers from you, placing them toward your lips. As if a new ordinance he then nodded for you to suck, and you did, licking his fingers clean of your sin.

Nick groaned unholy words as he blessed himself with the remnants of your orgasm, before tugging at your top.

You began to unbutton your blouse, and he followed, undoing his collared shirt. You both threw the garments to the ground, and Nick reached behind you, unclasping your bra to expose your chest.

“Are you ready to pray to me?” He asked, taking a step back in admiration for your body, before grabbing your hand and placing it on his waistband. You nodded eagerly.

“Then get on your knees and bow.”

You lowered to the ground in submission as you pulled his slacks down his legs, staring at the outline of his erection between the thin layer of his boxers. You tugged the underwear down, wrapping your hand softly around Nick’s arousal.

His hand found the back of your head as he pulled you toward him early, and you hungrily took him in your mouth, allowing your tongue to explore his skin.

You worshiped his body, bobbing your head in a rhythmic pattern as your hand stroked what was left. Your eyes flicked upward, watching Nick’s gaze fixated on your actions, as if he was in disbelief this was really happening.

“Jesus Christ,” He whimpered, hips beginning to thrust into your mouth.

You closed your eyes as you consumed him, your body shaking with lust and greed as you sucked.

“Baptise me,” you begged, and Nick laughed, pushing your head further down himself, forcing you to gag against his cock.

“I want to feel you wrapped around me,” He moaned as you gargled, pushing away to cough. You sucked in a deep breath as he pulled you off the ground, turning your body so you faced the wall.

Nicholas lifted the back of your skirt, a deep grumble erupting from his throat as his eyes devoured you while he stroked himself.

“Bend over and spread your legs,” He commanded and you pushed your chest into the wall, arching your back as far as you could to expose your ass toward your saviour.

You felt Nick’s fingers graze through your folds again, pushing his fingers into you in preparation before aligning himself from behind. You pressed your hips back toward him in desperation, anticipating the feeling of him filling you.

Finally, Nick pushed between your arousal and you cried, your unholy sounds masked by the sound of preaching above. The music of the gospels veiled the disgrace as he pounded into you relentlessly.

His fingers dug into the skin of your hips in lust as he gave into your body, the feeling of your combined souls inflicting a new feeling of complete adoration and need. Your bodies curated an insatiable yearning; an appetite of passion unleashing.

One of Nick’s hands reached to grip your hair, tugging your head back in libidinous urgency, hormones taking over.

Skin slapped together and you moaned from Nick’s thrusts, his body giving you everything he could. You wanted this feeling to last forever and you reached behind, gripping onto his hand that adorned you.

“There is no need to repent, for I am your mercy,” He said, fucking you senselessly with complete greed.

You didn’t care if God’s eyes were watching; you were ready to worship a new man.

+++++

off to hell i go woops

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #bad omens smut #bad omens x reader #nicholas ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo smut #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nick ruffilo smut #nick ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #smut #take me to church #female reader #noah sebastian smut

[lazycats-stuff]

Bruce Wayne x male!reader

Another teacher oneshot! I want to write more, maybe about how the press found out.

Summary: Bruce and (Y/N) are together for a year now, without the press finding out. But one day that changes and press get the wind of it.

Warnings: Press being invasive, people saying that (Y/N) is cute, Bruce being protective.

(Y/N) smiled as he sat at the back of the manor, the side where there was just a clearing. watching boys running around, playing football. (Y/N) was wrapped in a blanket, due to the wind that was blowing, with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He wasn't a person to play sports, but he was more than happy to cheer them on.

He took a sip of his warm drink and looked at Alfred who sat down next to him.

" Do you need another blanket master (Y/N)? "

" No, Alfred thank you. And please just call me (Y/N), the title of a master makes me feel rich. "

Alfred simply nodded, but (Y/N) knew that Alfred would refer to him with the 'master' title. He shook his head in amusement and went back to look at his boyfriend. Bruce was wearing a grey shirt, that clung to him because of the sweat, but what made his mouth water were Bruce's muscles. Sure, it seems superficial, but he loved them. He felt safe wrapped in those arms, especially when Bruce got back from patrol.

" How about a break gentlemen? " Alfred yelled out, seeing how they were getting tired.

" Sure Alfred. " Bruce said, jogging towards his beloved. (Y/N) knew what Bruce's intention were.

" Bruce, I love you, but no kisses while you are sweaty. "

Bruce actually pouted, but complied. He took a sip of water, then glanced back at his boyfriend.

" Bruce, no. Shower first then you can kiss me. No ifs or buts. "

Bruce pouted once more, looking like a kicked puppy. The boys snickered at their father's reaction.

" Fine, you win. Guys, eat something. You wait here hun. "

Bruce left and the boys couldn't help but comment.

" You know (Y/N), I have never seen Bruce so whipped for somebody. And I have been with him the longest here. " Dick commented, smiling.

" I agree. Father is whipped for you. " Damian said, taking a sip of his water.

" I would say a simp. " Jason said.

Tim rolled his eyes at the name. (Y/N) simply hummed, fully aware of the meaning behind that word. He wanted to keep up with his students, so he took it upon himself to learn their slang. Urban dictionary was a good help.

" Tim, Jason is not really wrong. Bruce is always ready to take his credit card and simply buy me whatever I glanced at. I looked at Stephen King's book It. A simple glance. What I found the next day, in my room, with a rose and a note saying and I quote: ' Have a good day at work my darling. Your beloved Bruce. ' "

" I remember when you hid his wallet once, you were swamped with gits. I also remember, you said something about giving something for us before the Christmas break. You said something about like something small, like some candy and what not. " Damian remembered.

" And your father got me enough candy for the entire school. I don't think any of you realize how hard it is to explain to your coworkers how you could afford it. " (Y/N) snickered at the memory.

The boys chuckled quietly at that. But that sealed (Y/N)'s spot as the favorite teacher of the school.

" But you position as the best teacher in school was solified. " Dick added, sitting down on the chair.

" Really? " (Y/N), furrowing his eyebrows, looking at the boys as if they grew a second head. he was aware that the students liked him, he was a chill professor, but still wanted their best and always helped those who needed extra help... But he didn't think he was the best teacher there.

" Yup. We would never lie to you. " Jason said, taking a bite of the sandwich.

" I mean, you help us out with our assignments and you proofread them. " Jason said, cringing at the thought of his past assignments. Jesus Christ, how did he pass all of that?

" Don't cringe at the past assignments Jason, you came a long way. "

Jason wanted to say something, but smirked, looking behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" Okay, I showered, now there is no escape. " Bruce said, lifting (Y/N) up to sit him in his lap. (Y/N) yelped and bushed.

" My God Bruce, you are like a golden retriever and a cat mixed all in one. "

Bruce gave (Y/N) a kiss on the cheek and squeezed him a bit tighter. (Y/N) huffed, but leaned back on Bruce. He was so warm, ready to drift off.

(Y/N) sighed as he got into the faculty room. His coworkers were all acting as if they were teenagers.

" Okay, is anybody going to tell me what is going on or do I have to turn into Sherlock Holmes? " (Y/N) asked, not having a clue.

" Oh, just this. " JJ said, opening something on his phone. He handed (Y/N) the phone and he nearly died of shock. It was from a tabloid, revealing (Y/N)'s and Bruce's relationship to the world. There were pictures from their date recently... Bastards...

" Why didn't you tell us you started dating again? " Kaylee asked him, all happy for him.

(Y/N) was numb as he gave the phone back. He took a deep breath and excused himself from the room. He took his phone out and called Bruce. He went to a closet and waited for Bruce picked up.

" Hey hun, I know, I read it too. My PR team and I are working on it. I'm sorry. " Bruce apologized, feeling awful.

He can take the heat of the press, but (Y/N) can't. He was never in the spotlight and Bruce liked it. He wasn't ashamed of his lover, he wanted to show him off, but on (Y/N)'s terms. Not in the press'.

" It's not your fault Bruce, I should have known that this day would have come. "

" No, don't say that, you and I should have gone public on your accord. I can always leave earlier from work and pick you up. Do you need me to pick me up? "

(Y/N) smiled at Bruce's proposition.

" Pick me up at 3:30 then, I am substituting today. "

" Will do. Did your coworkers say anything about... Us? "

" Only good things B. "

" Okay. Somebody tries to do something, call me. Okay? "

" Okay Bruce. I love you. " (Y/N) said, smiling like an idiot.

" I love you too hun. "

(Y/N) hanged up and went back to the faculty room. He took a deep breath before entering. Everyone looked at him and JJ looked sad, regretful even.

" JJ, it's not your fault. I'm not mad, just shocked that the news got out. "

JJ nodded.

" Is he treating you well? "Kaylee asked.

" He is. "

" Good. He better. "

(Y/N) smiled.

" And we are not judging you based on your sexuality. " Tamara, the principal said, taking a cup of coffee.

" Anyone tries to, come to us. " Kaylee added.

(Y/N) nodded, taking a cup of warm coffee from JJ.

" So... When did this start? " JJ asked.

" A year and a half ago. " (Y/N) answered, sitting at the desk in the center of the room.

Kaylee smiled and gave him a side hug.

" I am happy for you. If my work bestie is happy, then so am I. But I want to meet him. He needs to know that if he hurts you, we will come after him. " Kaylee said, a dark look going through her eyes.

" Okay, lets not go there. " (Y/N) said.

" If you say so. "

And true to his word, Bruce picked him up at 3:30 exactly. And with the press, who were there watching taking photos and trying to get their attention.

Bruce was leaning on the front of his car, ignoring the press, simply waiting for his boyfriend to come out.

And once he did, he lit up. He stood up, fixed his posture and when (Y/N) was close, he brought him into a hug. (Y/N) didn't mind at all, but they need talk about the press.

" I know, lets go home. " Bruce said, as if he read his mind, pulling away and opening the door for his boyfriend.

And once they were home, they could relax. Well, everyone expect (Y/N). He was stressed out now.

" Hun? Are you okay? " Bruce asked, gently taking him into his arms on the sofa.

" I'm just... Really stressed... And tired. " (Y/N) replied, leaning back into Bruce, tracing random patterns on his forearm.

" I know, I'm sorry. "

" Bruce, it's not your fault. It's theirs. They have no concept of privacy... Bastards. " (Y/N) muttered.

" Hey guys, I will be quick, you are trending on Twitter. Bruce for being with a man and (Y/N) for... " Dick trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

" For what Dick? " Bruce asked, anger and possessiveness clawing at his chest. He brought (Y/N) closer, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

" For his looks. People are saying that he is cute, hot, adorable... Nothing bad for now. "

Bruce hummed, a bit shocked, knowing how people are judgmental, so the positivity shocked him. Not the fact that (Y/N) is hot, adorable.

" Really? " (Y/N) asked, brows furrowing.

" Yes. Just wanted to let you know. They are saying that you two look adorable. " Dick said, leaving the room. He needs to finish his homework before patrol.

" Huh. " (Y/N) said, after a minute.

" A good huh, or... "

" A good one. "

Bruce sighed in relief. Okay. This is good.

" Would you like me to make a statement? " Bruce asked his lover, giving him a gentle kiss on the back of (Y/N)'s neck.

" Over what? "

" I don't know. Maybe post a picture of us or you, and write something. Or just write a Tweet, but that won't do any justice. "

" So Instagram? "

" I have a great picture of you. And you will be involved in writing it. I need an English major for this. "

" You got it Bruce. "

And they did just that. Bruce posted what he considered to be a beautiful photo of (Y/N), the one where he was laughing at something, on the sofa.

And in the caption:

' I have always said to the press, leave my loved ones out your headlines. That includes my children and now (Y/N). What the press did was beyond despicable, a complete invasion of privacy of someone who didn't want to be in the spotlight. And I am warning the paparazzies right now. Just like I said before, my kids and (Y/N) are off limits. I am not afraid to use force to protect the people I love. (Y/N), alongside my children are not to be followed around school. I will be dragging you and your companies to court if you do. And I'm not someone you want to get caught with in a legal battle. '

#bruce wayne x male reader #dc x male reader #dc comics #batman x male reader

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 1/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Major Bucky Egan is on leave in London, and what else is there to do than to drink, sing, have a good time, and... of course, ladies. But then he meets Liz, a Lady of the Court, and Bucky is immediately entangled in her net.

Warnings: Language, teasing, use of alcohol - soldiers being soldiers

A/N: Okay, wow... I thought today: "Uh, I have an idea for a OneShot with Bucky Egan," and now I'm sitting here with a three-part story. Jeeeeeez... Uh, but what you gonna do. (I've only seen the first two Episodes of MotA as of now, but... I just love Callum)

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere

(Sorry mates, you just have to be tagged ;))

The Ritz, London, 1943

The opulent bar of the Ritz in London, brimming with the raucous laughter and chatter of soldiers on leave. The air is thick with smoke, jazz music fills the background, and the atmosphere is charged with the night's excitement.

Major John "Bucky" Egan, surrounded by a rowdy group of fellow American soldiers, is the life of the party. His laughter is loudest, his stories the most captivating, and his gaze roams freely, appreciative of the scenery—particularly the women who add a touch of glamour to the smoky room.

Bucky, with a glass of whiskey in hand, leans back, surveying the room with a smug grin. "Gentlemen," he boasts, "London's no match for a Yank with charm. Watch and learn."

His eyes, however, catch a sight that stops him mid-sentence—a vision of elegance seated across the bar. Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, unbeknownst to him, sits alone, her posture the epitome of grace, a long, slender cigarette holder elegantly poised in her hand. The soft glow of the bar lights catches her blonde hair and the sparkle in her blue eyes, making her seem almost ethereal.

Bucky's usual confidence wavers for a moment, his friends noticing the sudden change. "Well, I'll be damned... Who's that?" Bucky mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

One of the British soldiers, a man who has seen his fair share of high society, leans over, a knowing look in his eyes. "That, Yank, is Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. The Duke of Wellington's daughter. I'd tread carefully if I were you. She's out of your league."

Bucky's grin returns, cockier than before. "Out of my league? Buddy, there's no league I can't play in. Watch me."

With a swagger in his step, Bucky makes his way over to Elizabeth, his comrades watching eagerly, some with admiration, others with skepticism, and some with knowing faces.

"Evening, miss. Can I say you light up this room brighter than the London Blitz," he says cockily, letting his charm play.

Elizabeth doesn't even glance up from her drink at first, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. When she finally turns her gaze towards him, it's with an air of amusement. "And can I say that's the most American pickup line I've ever heard?"

Bucky, undeterred, flashes a grin. "Major John Egan, at your service. But for you... You can call me Bucky. And you are?"

Elizabeth finally offers him a small, knowing smile. "Elizabeth Cavendish. And I'm quite aware of who you are, Major Egan. Your reputation precedes you."

Bucky, leaning against the bar closer to Liz, his confidence seemingly unshaken. "Is that so? And what have you heard?"

Liz, taking another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes Bucky with a mixture of interest and challenge. "Oh, just that you're quite the charmer. A real ladies' man. Or so you believe."

The air between them crackles with a mix of tension and intrigue. Bucky, for once, finds himself having to work to maintain his usual smug demeanor. "And what about you, Lady Elizabeth? Do you enjoy games?"

Liz's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, Major, I don't just enjoy them. I excel at them. Care to play?"

The challenge hangs in the air, a silent dare that Bucky, despite the warnings and his better judgment, finds himself unable to resist. "You're on. Let the games begin."

As Bucky signals the bartender for another round of drinks, his fellow soldiers exchange glances, some shaking their heads, others betting amongst themselves on the outcome. What none of them realize is that in the game of seduction and wit, Liz is a master strategist, and Bucky might have just met his match.

Bucky leans closer, his confidence unwavering. "So, Liz, you don't mind me calling you Liz, right?" he starts, the smug smile never leaving his face, "I've flown some of the most dangerous missions over Germany, you know. But I must say, navigating this conversation with you feels like my most thrilling challenge yet."

Liz lets out a soft, amused laugh. "Major Egan, I've met many men who believe their war stories could sweep a girl off her feet. And maybe it actually does some. But it's going to take more than tales of aerial feats to impress me," she replies, her voice laced with a teasing sarcasm that only someone of her breeding and wit could perfect.

The night progresses, and with each drink, Bucky becomes more audacious, his hand finding its way to the small of Liz's back, a bold move that, in any other circumstance, would have guaranteed success. Liz, however, is not any woman he's encountered before. She plays along, leaning in as if captivated by his charm, her lips tantalizingly close to his, only to pull away at the last moment, leaving him wanting more.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, with Bucky regaling her with his exploits, each tale more daring than the last. Yet, Liz remains unimpressed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement rather than awe. It's a dance they're both familiar with, but in this instance, Liz leads, her every move calculated to keep him on his toes.

As the night wears on, Liz finishes her drink, placing the glass delicately on the bar. She rises from her stool, the movement graceful and deliberate. "Well, Major, it has been... interesting," she says, her tone implying a myriad of things left unsaid.

Bucky, taken aback by her sudden desire to leave, scrambles to his feet. "Wait, Liz, why don't you stay for another drink? The night is still young, and I feel we've barely scratched the surface."

Liz turns to him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I'm afraid I have other engagements to attend to, Major. But I must thank you for the entertainment," she teases, her gaze piercing through him with a challenge that silently says she's not one to be easily conquered.

As she walks away, Bucky watches, a mix of frustration and fascination written across his face. For the first time, he's encountered a woman who not only matches his wit but exceeds it, leaving him in uncharted territory. Liz, with her aristocratic poise and undeniable charm, has turned the tables on him, making it clear that if he wishes to pursue her, he's in for a game unlike any he's played before.

Returning to his comrades, Bucky's expression is a mix of irritation and resolve, a stark contrast to the confident swagger he had before approaching Liz. The British soldiers, having observed the entire exchange, can't help but wear smirks of "told you so" on their faces.

"Well, Major, looks like the ice queen has claimed another victim," one of the Brits comments, clapping Bucky on the shoulder with a laugh that's both sympathetic and mocking.

Bucky, undeterred, shoots back, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Another British soldier chimes in, swirling his drink, "Mate, many have tried to climb that mountain. From viscounts to earls, not a single one has reached the summit. Lady Cavendish is... well, she's a fortress."

"Yeah, heard she loves to make sport of men, seeing who can try and fail the most spectacularly," adds a third, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and warning.

One of Bucky's American friends, attempting to find a solution, suggests, "Did you pull the pilot card? Chicks love pilots." The suggestion hangs in the air until another British soldier, who had been quietly listening, interjects, "Her brother's Captain Edward Cavendish, Royal Air Force war hero. Your pilot card might as well be a library card."

The revelation doesn't dampen Bucky's spirits; if anything, it fuels his determination. His jaw sets firmly, the challenge now more personal than ever. "So, she's used to high-flyers, huh? Well, she hasn't met anyone like me. I'm not just any pilot; I'm Major Bucky Egan. And I don't give up that easily."

The group looks at him, a mix of skepticism and intrigue in their eyes. They know Bucky for his tenacity, his charm, and his unwillingness to back down from a challenge. But Lady Elizabeth Cavendish is not just any challenge—she's a high-stakes game that many have lost.

As the night winds down and the group disperses, Bucky's mind races with plans. He knows winning over someone like Lady Cavendish won't be easy, but he's always loved a challenge. The thought of her, with her piercing blue eyes and that untouchable aura, only makes him more determined. He's ready to prove that he's not like the others, that he's someone who stands out, even in a crowd of heroes.

The stage is set for a captivating game of wit, charm, and strategy. Bucky's resolve and Liz's cunning promise a tale of intrigue, where each move could either draw them closer or push them further apart.

In the soft morning light filtering through the hotel's dining room windows, Bucky and his fellow soldiers are halfway through their breakfast, the air filled with the light-hearted banter typical of men who've faced much together. The sudden approach of a concierge, bearing the unmistakable posture of formal importance, silences the table. With a discreet cough to announce his presence, the concierge presents a silver platter to Bucky.

Bucky, eyebrows raised in surprise, picks up the envelope resting on the platter. The envelope itself is a work of art, the calligraphy on the front flawlessly executed, hinting at the significance of its contents. His name, "Major John Egan, US Air Force," is inscribed with elegant flourishes that speak of a bygone era of meticulous attention to detail.

As he carefully opens the envelope, the anticipation among his comrades is palpable. They watch as Bucky's initial confusion shifts to an understanding smile, a silent acknowledgment of the ongoing saga that had captivated them since last night. He pulls out the invitation, and it reads:

Major John Egan,

It is with great pleasure that Arthur Cavendish, Duke of Wellington, and Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Wellington, extend to you an invitation to a gala being held at our family estate, Wellington House, on the evening of this day.

This event will assemble distinguished individuals from various sectors of British and Allied societies in a celebration of unity and resilience in these challenging times.

Date: This evening at 7 o'clock post meridiem

Dress Code: Formal (Black Tie)

Location: Wellington House, Kent

We anticipate the honor of your presence and look forward to an evening of meaningful exchanges and spirited fellowship.

Kindly present this invitation at the entrance.

Sincerely, The Duke of Wellington

Bucky's grin now spread wide across his face, confirms the unspoken thoughts of his table. "Looks like I've got plans this evening," he announces, his voice a mix of amusement and intrigue.

The soldiers around him, well aware of the story behind the invitation, erupt into a mix of cheers and playful jeers. Bucky's encounter with Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, a tale that had quickly become legendary among them, was evidently far from over. This invitation was not just a call to a social event; it was the next chapter in a story that promised to be as unpredictable as it was entertaining.

As the concierge departs, Bucky's mind races with possibilities. The gala at Wellington House was not just an opportunity to step into the world of British aristocracy; it was a chance to see Liz again, to engage in their game of wits and charm. With a sense of adventure stirring in his heart, he knew one thing for sure: the evening promised to be unforgettable.

House Wellington, Kent, 1943

As Bucky steps into the grandeur of the Wellington estate, the opulence of the gala immediately envelops him. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes mingling with the faint aroma of quality tobacco. The chatter of the high society fills the room, a mixture of refined British accents and the occasional foreign dialect. Bucky, in his crisply pressed formal uniform, stands out—not just for his attire but also for the aura of confidence he carries with him, an unmistakable mark of a man not easily intimidated.

He navigates through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they find what they've been searching for: Liz. She's a vision in her gown, embodying the grace and elegance of her status, yet with a glimmer in her eye that hints at her spirited nature. As he approaches, he can't help but admire the way she holds herself, the center of attention yet seemingly uninterested in the adoration she commands.

"Seems like I can't go anywhere without you showing up to steal the spotlight," Bucky teases, offering her a playful smirk as he closes the distance between them.

Liz turns to face him fully, her expression one of amused defiance. "Oh, Major Egan, I was under the impression that an officer of your caliber would know how to read a simple dress code," she retorts, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gives him a once-over. "But I suppose we can't all have the luxury of choice in our evening attire, can we?"

Bucky chuckles, unphased by her jab. "Well, Lady Cavendish, it seems I'm at a disadvantage here. While you dazzle the room in that stunning dress, I'm stuck in this old thing," he says, gesturing to his uniform with a mock sigh. "But let's be honest, we both know I could show up in a burlap sack, and you'd still find it hard to keep your eyes off me."

The air between them crackles with the tension of their banter, a dance they've both come to enjoy. Liz takes a slow drag from her cigarette, held elegantly in a long holder. "Confident, aren't we? Just don't let that confidence get you into trouble, Major. This isn't the front line, and the battles here are fought differently," she says, blowing out a stream of smoke, her gaze locked with his.

"Then consider me armed and dangerous," Bucky replies with a grin, his eyes never leaving hers. "But I'll admit, this is one battlefield I'm looking forward to navigating, especially if it means crossing swords with you, Lady Cavendish."

Their exchange, filled with the playful yet pointed jabs of two individuals equally matched in intellect and charm, sets the tone for the evening. Around them, the gala continues in its whirl of music, laughter, and conversation, but for Bucky and Liz, the rest of the world fades into the background. They are each other's focal point, engaged in a game where the stakes are undefined but unmistakably high, each moment building on the tension and attraction that simmers just below the surface.

As Bucky and Liz continue their verbal dance, the arrival of a British Captain momentarily shifts the atmosphere. The Captain's demeanor is one of polite curiosity mixed with the protective scrutiny of a brother. When he inquires about Bucky, there's a brief tension, a moment where the social games of the evening meet the reality of wartime alliances and personal connections.

Bucky, with the straightforwardness that military life has ingrained in him, extends a hand. "Major John Egan, US Air Force," he introduces himself with a respectful nod, recognizing the familial resemblance in the Captain's features.

Edward's expression warms slightly at the mention of Bucky's service. "Ah, a fellow pilot then. And where might you be stationed, Major Egan?" he asks, a hint of camaraderie entering his voice upon learning of their shared skies.

"With the 100th Bomber Group," Bucky responds, his answer earning a nod of respect from Edward. The reputation of Bucky's outfit precedes him, known even among the British ranks for their bravery and contributions to the war effort.

The conversation takes a turn when Edward's attention shifts towards his sister, curiosity piqued. "And how did you two come to meet?" he inquires, his gaze bouncing between Liz and Bucky, searching for a glimpse into his sister's enigmatic social life.

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, perhaps a little too eagerly, ready to dive into the tale of their first encounter. However, Liz, ever the master of her own narrative, interjects with a grace that belies the quick thinking behind her words. "We met at a charity event just last week," she states, her voice carrying a tone of casual innocence. "Major Egan was kind enough to share some fascinating insights into his experiences in the war so far. It's not every day we have the honor of hearing such stories firsthand."

Edward's expression softens, a mix of brotherly concern and pride evident in his gaze as he looks at Liz. It's clear he's unaware of the full extent of his sister's adventurous spirit and her propensity for finding herself in the company of intriguing characters. "Well, I'm glad to hear our allies are not just brave but also charitable. It's important, especially in times like these, to remember what we're fighting for," he comments, directing a respectful nod towards Bucky.

The moment passes, and Edward excuses himself to greet other guests, leaving Bucky and Liz alone once again. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Liz, impressed by her quick thinking and ability to weave a story that protects her reputation while not entirely dismissing their actual encounter. "A charity event, huh? You're quite the storyteller, Lady Cavendish," he teases, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Liz, taking a delicate sip of her champagne, meets his gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "One must always be prepared to tell the story that needs to be heard, Major Egan. Besides, I couldn't possibly let you ruin all my fun with the truth, now could I?" she replies, her tone playful yet laced with the underlying thrill of their shared secret.

Their exchange, now even more charged with the thrill of their clandestine understanding, continues to weave a complex tapestry of attraction and intrigue, each moment adding to the layers of their unfolding story.

Next Part

#Masters of the Air #MoaT #John Egan x OC #Bucky Egan x OC #John Egan x reader #Bucky Egan x reader #John Bucky Egan #BoB #Callum Turner #Sorry not sorry

[bloodandoranges]

Feel completely free to ignore if uncomfortable but...Im starved of NSFW Gale headcanons \ oneshots...and your writing is ✨Great✨ so uhhh do with this as you will.

✨Gale/Fem!Tav NSFW Headcanons✨

waahh thank you for this prompt, I love doing headcanons! Hopefully will have an one shot out soon 👀 also…should I add more?

— Gale wasn’t lying when he said he had a practiced tongue. He loves to go down on Tav, her thighs clenched around his head, toes digging into his back as he loses himself in her, as he drinks her in. She feels the Weave dance around her skin as he devours her, caressing her where he can’t reach. He seeks her out constantly, settling to his knees in front of her.

— If there’s one thing that will always set Gale off? It’s Tavs scent. A new perfume, and he’s all over her, complimenting her and pressing his nose to her neck, breathing in the sweet aroma. But of course, he prefers her natural scent. When they’ve had a hard day of battle or training; or rather, days…when she’s covered in blood and sweat is when it really sets him off. He’s all over her, hands squeezing at her hips as he breathes her in, as he moves into her…nose nuzzled tightly against her collarbone all the while.

— Of course, while he enjoys taking her wherever he can? His favourite place will always be in the Astral Planes, amongst the Weave… He holds her tight, multiple sets of arms around her as he fucks her, gasping out her name like a prayer. Their bodies, their souls, perfectly intertwined. There was nothing, nothing that could be better than this.

— As any good gentlemen should, he enjoys cuddling after sex…and in general, really. Curled up on his sofa with Tav settled in his lap while he read a book, her arms wound around his neck while she laid her head on his chest. Or the two of them wrapped in a naked embrace, limbs tangled together as he gently strokes her face - thinking on how truly lucky he was that the Gods had blessed him with her.

— Bonus: He loves being praised. He loves when she tells him how good his been, how wells he’s down…he becomes putty in her hands.

#bg3 #fic #baldurs gate tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x reader #gale x tav #headcanon #Gale has a scent kink #I mean it’s sort of implied-ish in game #phew #bg3 fic #ask

[rosewaterandivy]

the workin’ of my hands— a whatever’s still to come oneshot

summary: a stretched summer night between you and steve.

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

word count: 2271

warnings: prosaic smut, too many metaphors, and an over abundance of chiaroscuro - the usual!

note: am I positively feral for unreal unearth? 100 percent yes, do you even know me at all?! like I’ve said, this series is a long way from seeing the light of day, but enjoy a lil’ taste in the meantime.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.

Enjoy! 💜

It feels destined and star-crossed, the way his heart kicks up when your fingers brush against his.

Finally worked up the courage to ask you out, and it’s holding hands that does him in?

He shakes his head minutely, biting his lip and tearing his gaze from you. Not noticing your upturned face, thinks you’re looking at the stars when in reality, you can’t stop looking at him.

So familiar yet so different from what you imagined he’d be.

No matter.

Not when he squeezes your hand and he cuts the engine of the beemer.

It was a casual date, all things considered; dinner at the diner followed by a movie. During which Steve had been a perfect gentlemen, opening doors and keeping his hands to himself.

He doesn’t exactly want to and would rather propriety be damned, but the thing is he likes you. Really likes you. To the point that Robin is getting sick and tired of his moping and making cow-eyes at you whenever you’re in Family Video.

“Shit, or get off the pot, Harrington.”

He snorts, and continues to stock the new releases across the shop. “Such language,” he taunts, “And from a lady, at that.”

Robin rolls her eyes and Steve swears he can almost hear it. “‘M tryin’ to give you some advice, dingus.”

“Uh huh,” he replies, walking back to the counter for another stack of tapes. “No offense Robs, but I think between the two of us, I’m the dating expert.”

Now it’s her turn to snort. “Okay, big guy.” She taps the keys of the computer idly, “Then when is the last time you’ve used this so-called expertise?”

“Pfft.” He rolls his eyes, “I dunno, like last week? Crystal or Christine— whatever her name was.”

Robin smirks, “You think that was last week? Try a month ago. Poor Christine only stopped calling you last week.”

Steve stops, a tape nearly falling from his grasp. The door chimes, signaling a customer walking in, and he nearly falls over himself trying to assist them.

Only to see you standing by the door.

Robin lets out a low whistle and busies herself at the counter. And Steve would like nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

You look divine.

A bright summer dress, skirt skimming just above your knees to reveal sun-warmed skin. The faint aroma of sunblock and chlorine clings to you, invading his senses while he forces his eyes upward.

The bodice of the dress is damp, clinging to your rib cage and waist; it’s clear you’d just come from the pool and had thrown the garment on as a cover-up, a lone bikini strap slipping down one shoulder and chest heaving.

You’re clutching a tape in hand, something you’d rented last week, and that’s when it all slides into place.

“I—uh,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “I forgot to return this earlier, how much in late fees?”

It’s at this point that Robin has the sense to make herself scarce.

“Oh,” Steve replies, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s not a huge deal since it was due this morning.”

His free hand comes to take the tape from you. Your fingers brush for the briefest of moments before Steve is turning to deposit the tape with the other returns.

He tries to stifle the shudder that runs through him, the sensation of your soft skin against his.

“Did you like it?”

“Hmm?”

Steve clears his throat, “The movie, did you like it?”

“Sure,” you say, fingers lingering on the tapes he’d just stocked. “It was fine.”

How Steve got from there to here, on a bona fide date with you, he’ll never know. Though Robin is insistent, it has something to do with “the Harrington charm offensive.”

Usually, somewhere between dates three to five, Steve maybe gets his dick wet. If he’s lucky.

But you flutter your lashes and look up with those big doe eyes and he finds himself defenseless.

“Wanna come up?”

He all but stumbles up the stairs to your apartment, tittering giggles spilling from your mouth as you unlock the door.

Steve’s eager, and you like it.

Is it such a bad thing, that he’s desperate for more of your time?

It’s like his mind finally rests in your presence, his soul is at peace. No longer constantly looking over his shoulder for the next big, bad thing.

You quiet the agonies inside him.

Replace them with warmth and light.

His mouth is on you as soon as the door is locked. Boozy and warm, with the faintest hint of tequila from your drink at dinner. You sigh into the kiss and Steve swears it’s a sound he’s heard only in his dreams.

Heat licks up the ridge of your spine, Steve’s hands everywhere, as if he can’t get enough of you. Leading him from the entryway, your hands land on his hips fingers hooking into belt loops.

A gentle tug brings you both into the dim light of the bedroom. Hands glide up his chest to settle along his shoulders as your lips part from his with a soft click. He takes slow breaths, mindful not to pull from your orbit.

Your arms drape languidly around his collar, fingers idly caressing the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Eyes blown wide with lust, starry and enchanting; if he’s not careful, Steve swears he could get lost in them.

A slow smile graces your lips as your hands drift to his chest— a soft push sends his back to the downy duvet while you nudge his legs apart.

“Honey,” he rasps, running a hand through his hair, watching your deft fingers pop the button on his jeans. “You don’t have to—“

A disapproving cluck from you as you unzip the fly. “But I want to, baby.”

Steve’s dick jumps.

Baby.

Sticky sweet falling like spun sugar from your ruddied lips. He groans, eyes screwing shut and head falling against the pillow. He’s as good as gone now; your intoxicating smile and the working of your dexterous hand, freeing him from the confines of his boxers and sealing his fate.

Because Steve isn’t used to this— being cared for. He plans the date, picks her up, pays for dinner, drives her home, and pretty much does all the heavy lifting in the bedroom. He’s a generous lover, or so he’s been told.

“If you’re down for a good time, call…”

So to say he’s unprepared when you get your mouth on him and sluice him up with lover’s spit, is an understatement.

Steve’s soul could leave his body at this moment and he would be none the wiser.

Not when your pretty little mouth is wrapped around his cock in a smile. It’s everything he can do not to blow his load right then and there.

You work him up easily. Not that it’s that difficult, because he really, really likes you. Your hand working in tandem with what your mouth can’t fit and Steve is losing his damn mind.

The sounds are obscene.

Wet sucks and licks from your mouth, moans as you sink him further down, crushing against your molars. Low whines pouring from his own mouth, begging,

“Oh, fuck. Jus’ like that— ohmygod your fucking mouth.”

His hands cradle your head tenderly, like he can’t bring himself to believe that this is happening. And as heavenly as your mouth is, Steve knows, deep in his bones, that he has to be inside of you.

Like, yesterday.

“Honey,” he says, fingers sweeping along your jaw, coaxing you to look up.

When your eyes meets his, Steve has to stave off an orgasm from a particularly harsh suck of your mouth.

“C’mere,” it comes out more desperate than he’d intended, but you don’t seem to mind.

Fingers wipe away the lover’s spit that had gathered on your mouth and chin, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What is it, baby?”

Your voice is a wrecked low rasp, and pulls at something primal in his guts. The weight of you settles against his lap, a wiggle of your hips stoking the heat trapped in his veins.

Steve takes a moment to study you: wild hair from the torment on his fingers, eyes warm and glassy, lips slick and revealing a bright flash of teeth. The strap of your dress falls from your shoulder and he wants nothing more than to wreck you.

As if you can read his mind, you wink and reach back to unzip the dress. You pull the fabric up and away inviting the moonlight to gleam against your skin.

It steals breath.

His hand reaches out to trace the curve of your breast, earning him a lustful sigh that falls from your open, panting mouth. You’re so soft under his fingertips, Steve wants to get his mouth back on you, he has to.

But then you pull your pantries to the side and, oh god, is that hotter than he thought it’d be— only to grip the hot, firm line of him against your petaled heat.

Steve goes to say something, anything to warn you, that he can’t possibly fit. That you’re not loosened up enough. He hasn’t even eaten you out or worked your open on his fingers.

But all that comes out is a groan as he disappears into the divine, wet heat between your thighs.

Jesus Christ in Heaven.

“S’okay, baby,” you coo. “I can take it.” You lean closer, hair tickling his neck and breath fanning against his skin, “I was made for you.”

Steve has no idea what comes out of his mouth at that. Just thrusts up uselessly, hands holding firm to the flare of your hips. You chuckle lowly and brace yourself against his chest, finger nails scraping along his skin.

You ride him like it’s your job, alternating slow, winding thrusts with quick, percussive ones. You’re so tight. And wet. And hot. Half-lidded eyes trained on him, changing your tempo to suit his pleasure.

Steve can feel himself growing warm, heat climbing up his neck and chest. A rag-doll beneath you, a sheen of sweat along his skin, mouth open in a wet gasp. The quirk of your lips sends a rush through his veins, a low keen falling from his lips.

“Slow down, gonna come if you keep that up.”

You settle into a slow, lazy roll of your hips, but just barely.

“Why, don’t you wanna come, baby?”

He’s in so deep that his skin blooms with a shudder when his cockhead kisses your cervix.

“Big and filling me up so well, Stevie.” A plaintive moan erupting from your lips, accompanied by a vicious clench of your walls. “God, you feel so good.”

Steve smiles delirious and completely captivated by you. Extricates a hand to drag you back down to him, rests your forehead against his, as if your souls could become intertwined, and kisses you like he’s a dying man.

And, hell, he might as well be.

“Fuck,” rushes out in a hoarse breath. “Fuck!”

The room spins out of control and he can feel you smiling against his collarbone. You wind your hips and flutter your walls against him, as Steve grinds deeply into you. Steadies himself by palming at your hips, thumbs tracing the jut of bone there, as if it would ground him.

His orgasm crashes on him like a tidal wave, bringing with it a sense of deja vu— you and him but in a different time and place. Your eyes and smile remain the same, as does the feeling— a bone-deep sense of home.

But the clothes are different, as are the words that fall from your lips. Dappled in light from the moon or sun, the images keep coming and so does Steve.

“Philtatos,” you gasp, reaching your peak with a full body shudder. Steve’s hands anchor you to him, points of heat flaring against your skin.

And it’s glorious— you are glorious. Moonlight cutting through the shade of night to illuminate your pleasure. The clench of your cunt is nearly enough to make him come all over again, and wrests a strained moan from the confines of his throat.

By the time Steve comes to his senses again, you’re sponging open-mouthed kisses and bites to his neck and chest, a hand laid over the steady beat of his heart. You wiggle against his hips and thighs, wet and sticky between your legs.

He clutches at your waist, breaths evening out once more. Fingers trace the curves of your ribcage while he revels in the comedown.

“What was that thing you said? Phil—“

The crescents of your nails drag delightfully against his skin. “Philtatos.”

“Yeah, that.” Steve’s hand settles at the nape of your neck, playing with your hair idly. “What does it mean?”

You hum contentedly, nearly melting at his touch and earning a raspy laugh form him.

“S’like a nickname,” you supply softly. “It’s Greek.”

He doesn’t press further. More interested in the working of his hands, wants you boneless and sated spread out before him. His cock kicks up at the thought.

“Baby,” you ask, syrupy sweet.

“Uh huh.” He’s woozy.

“What’s your refractory period like?”

A shiver courses up his spine. He laughs and shakes himself alive, pulling up to take you down to the mattress. You acquiesce easily, back arching and lips searching for him in the near dark.

“Okay honey,” he says with a knowing lilt and grin, “Now it’s my turn to fuck you.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #fic: wstc #Spotify