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Back Alley Bang! - A Dieter Bravo One Shot
Summary: Down a dirty back alley, sleazy Dieter Bravo coaxes you into some lewdness. But, do you really need coaxing?
Pairing: Sleazy!Dieter x MenaceF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader wears a dress and has hair that can be pulled. Otherwise, reader is a blank slate.)
Word Count: 6k-ish
Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Explicit - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral M & F receiving/spitting/mild voyeurism/dirty talk - A LOT of dirty, filthy talk - Dieter calls you a slut & whore which you love/verbal degredation/very mild ass eating, just a slurp/sleazy/lewdness/come eating/mild drug use/Dieter lives up wholly to the trash rep & he is not a famous actor in this story. Reader is incorrigible and wants it all.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
Author’s Note: I blame the recent outtakes of Pedro's Esquire shoot for this. Probably the filthiest thing I've written so far... 🫠
If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
In the pulsating nightclub, bodies sway in the oppressive furnace as the bass reverberates through the crowded space.
Coloured lights flash sporadically, casting erratic shimmers of neon lights in the glassy eyes of the feverish dancers around you.
The packed dance floor is a writhing mass of heat; bodies moving in sweaty unison lost to the rhythms of the slick night. The heat is palpable on your skin, a relentless force that wraps around you like a ruthless, suffocating hold.
It's as if the very air is saturated with fervour, clinging to you like a hot, heavy mist. You feel it in the back of your throat, under your eyelids.
The flimsy dress you’re wearing clings to your frame; a barely there silken slip of oil, black and saturated with your perspiration as it sticks around the swell of your nipples. The dance floor becomes a crucible, each striking beat intensifying the atmosphere until it's as stifling as a steam-filled alley after a torrential rain.
Amidst the chaotic tempo, eyelashes damp with exertion and your mascara creasing no doubt, you lock eyes with a persistent figure at the crowded bar.
His gaze is predatory, a calculated intensity that tops the disorienting haze around you. You’ve noted him watching you from various positions in the club.
As you lock eyes with him at the crowded bar, a magnetic pull ensnares you like a chafed noose around the throat. His gaze, penetrating through the vapour, stirs a primal response within the pits of your belly.
A tingling sensation ripples across your skin, heightened by the throbbing ache settling between your legs. It's a visceral reaction, a silent acknowledgment that something beyond the ordinary is unfolding in the dimly lit confines.
Your breath catches in anticipation; the air thickening with a heady cocktail of desire and apprehension. The chaotic energy of the nightclub momentarily gives way to a singular focus on the mysterious figure.
Despite his seemingly dishevelled appearance, there's an inexplicable allure that transcends the rough surface. The stranger's grimy exterior only fuels the flames of attraction, a paradoxical magnetism that bends societal norms until they crumble. A scummy diamond in the chintzy rough.
You hazard a guess at his age, mentally placing him around his early to mid-forties; the salt and peppered scruff around his jaw is lined with the scuzz of a moustache that taints his top lip. His hair is an unruly affray of dark chocolate curls, spiked in their fluff and streaked with grey when the strobes hit it.
His shoulders, hunched over the bar, seem far too broad to fit into the leather that sculpts around them and his biceps. His hand engulfs the glass tumbler, making it appear comically small, as though he could crush it with a simple squeeze of those thick fingers, some with silver bands woven around them.
You swallow dryly, feeling your trachea pulse at the thought of those hands crushing you.
You get a brazen flash of an earring, possibly a hoop, in his left lobe; a gold twinkle at you as he turns his head, cocking it, to observe you.
Watching you watching him.
His gaze is akin to a solitary predator surveying its prey from the shadows - unseen, but undeniably present. A lurking panther in the urban wilderness, patiently observing the dance of gazelles amidst the chaos of the nightclub.
His dark eyes, gleaming with a primal hunger, follow your every sway; an intense focus that obliterates the mere act of watching, and enters the realm of silent pursuit. It's a chary stance, like a sentry in militant vigilance and absorbing every nuance of your dancing amidst the nightclub's frenetic energy.
You feel his eyes all over you, in every sweaty nook and cranny of your flesh.
You like it, the way he circles you from the outer orbits; the way you sway and dip your hips deliberately lower, giving him a show. Bending purposefully this way or that, a flash of inner thigh, the trench of your cleavage… And you can sense he knows it’s all for him.
He sups from a glass knocking back the golden liquid. His intense stare pierces at you through the smoky ambiance, and a subtle beckoning gesture of his head soon suggests an invitation beyond the confines of the pulsating music.
In a daring move, fuelled by the flutter between your legs and the need to seek a respite from the intense heat of the nightclub's intoxicating energy inking your skin like a cheap stick-poke, you decide to follow the tempting hulkness of him.
Drawn by a magnetic force, even if a small ebb inside your gut warns you against your chagrin. It's the kind of sensation that leaves a lingering taste of ash in your mouth - a pertinent reminder that, in the urban landscape, even what feels undeniably good can be wrapped in the coarse fabric of moral ambiguity.
But you quickly push it aside as you totter after him; you know what you crave. And come Hell or high water if you're not going to get it.
As you step into the night, the abrupt transition from the seismic warmth of the club, to the cool night air, is palpable on your skin. Emerging from the sweltering cocoon into the refreshing breath of the outside world, a welcome, soft breeze soothes your neck and stirs the tendrils of your hair stuck to it. Your lungs fill with condensation as you breathe in.
The distant thud of the music forms a muffled backdrop to the dimly lit street as you search his broad shoulders out.
The neon glow from the club spills into the side alley, casting long shadows on the brick walls as you navigate the uneven pavement after him.
The cool air becomes a pragmatic balm for your overheated skin, salved in as you wipe at it. The atmosphere shifts from the previous frenetic energy of the dance floor to a hushed anticipation, as guided by a heated curiosity, you venture further into the unknown and shadows alike.
The sounds of the city, normally drowned out by the nightclub beats, become more pronounced in the secluded alleyway, adding an eerie dimension to this clandestine encounter. The pungent aroma of a nearby Chinese restaurant weaves through the air. The piquant notes of soy, ginger, and garlic emerge, battling with the prevailing stench of decay from the dumpsters that line the labyrinth, blocking out the light in its opacity the further you follow.
You can feel your body buzzing; a low hum that centres in your core, radiating outwards down your limbs that feel wibbly like spaghetti.
He lights something, smoke billowing out from behind him; the embers fizzing a vitriolic red in the darkness as he turns to ensure you’re still following. The only light on his succinct features as he inhales through the dark.
You palm at your neck, feeling the clammy stickiness of your own skin, cracking it out from side to side as your heels scrape along the rough concrete, matching the tempo of your heart beating in your ears as you keep pace.
The abrupt shift in the atmosphere is palpable. The cool night air, tainted by the distant scent of fetid dumpsters, provides a stark contrast to the stale waft of the club. Neon signs from nearby establishments cast erratic patterns on the uneven brick walls, revealing the hidden textures of urban decay.
The stranger, a silhouette in a dark leather trench, against the backdrop, beckons you further into the shadows down the alley. The flickering lights create a break dance of uncertainty, as the city's nocturnal sounds amplify in the secluded space.
In the grit and shadows of the back alley, you confront the dichotomy between attraction and uncertainty. It's a feverish anticipation, the air thick with a blend of arousal and the acrid scent of the city's underbelly. Your mind becomes a battleground of intense desire and shrinking caution, drawn to the enticing danger that lurks in the shadows, tumbling further down the rabbit hole, giving Alice a run for her money.
In the dank ambiguity of the alleyway, the decision to follow him becomes a bold plunge into a swampy narrative where the lines between hazard and want blur.
You’re not afraid of him, you’re incredibly turned on; the duality of forbidden fruit, smirking as you can feel your heat soiling your underwear.
He stops, smoking on what you now see is a fat blunt, and he offers it out to you, smoke billowing from his nostrils. You drag on it deeply and hand it back, before he takes another for himself and flicks it away, a comet’s tail sparkling in the dark.
The man materialises fully from the alley's shadows, a silhouette of dismantled disarray under the glow of purple neons from above on the rear of the club.
He reaches for you, giant paws maraud on your hips and he pulls you close, skin soldering to yours.
You make quick notes of the scuffed denim clinging to his waist that tells a story of hard-worn days around the knees, while the long leather trench, battered, drapes over his form, riding especially tight around his upper body, with an air of seen-it-all nonchalance. The leather is scratched as you feel your way up his arms.
The deep V-neck top underneath hints at a familiarity with the less savoury corners of the nightlife; a sartorial choice that leans into the sleaze rather than away from it. A cheap brassy chain with an indiscernable pendant hangs long beneath his clavicle. His sternum hints at tone and muscle whilst his stomach puffs out slightly at the waist, indicating the embryonic stages of a middle-aged spread.
His slovenly facial hair seems more like an afterthought than a fashion choice; a careless, scruffy embellishment left to weed on a face etched with the marks of countless dubious dealings. The moustache, weathered yet defiant, clings to his upper lip like a survivor in the chaos. Caught in the purple glow, it resembles the dark foliage of a tangled landscape, patchy in places up close.
You lick your lips wondering what it will feel like running against your cunt.
His tanned skin carries a patina of large pores over a hawkish nose, the biggest feature on his face with a prominent ridge as the harsh clinical glow of the neons expose every imperfection. He becomes a figure caught between reality and illusion in your foggy view; the violet tinge revealing a chiaroscuro of contrasts on his skin, transforming him into a nocturnal spectre that will haunt your dreams long after this clandestine tryst is over.
He pulls you closer into the raw, unfiltered reality of his fingers squeezing your hips and bunching up the obscenely thin material of your dress around them; the breeze licking delectably up the back of your thighs. His dark eyes wander obviously down to your chest, licking his own lips as he revels in the absence of a bra as your nipples dare to harden.
“What’s your name?” You query as you inhale him in.
Despite reeking of a calculated indifference, a cloud of stale cigarettes and clumsy hand-rolled joints clings to him; an obvious scent that weaves through the fabric of his jagged clothes, reminiscent of countless nights spent in the gutter with a different body wrapped around him, no doubt. It's the kind of smell that seeps into the pores and stays there until you wash it away in the morning.
Beneath this layer of grimy urban residue, there's a faint trace of cheap cologne, a feeble attempt at masking the raw essence of the streets. It's a fragrance that mingles with the sour tang of sweat, creating a cocktail of dizzying odours that hovers around him like a weary trail of late-night escapades that stack up against him.
The subtle hint of leather from his long trench coat adds another dimension to his olfactory presence. It's a stink of marred resilience, a tangible reminder of his nocturnal tales that have seeped into the very fabric of his attire.
He hums of sex, of regret and bad choices.
“Does it matter?” He responds with a lazy click of his tongue as his eyes penetrate yours again. A voice that is raw with the thickness of phlegm, grating at the back of his throat.
You nod. “I wanna scream it as you make me come.” You say, a smirk across your dewy lips as you saturate them.
You carry an aura that bears no wanton shame; you flout it at him, challenging him. Your red light in the window signalling that you're free of constraint, of moral and disregard.
There's a lingering hint of your sweet and zesty perfume, a delicate fruit ripe for the plucking. It's a fragrance that, despite the allure, cannot completely mask the subtle undertones of sweat and exertion from your time amidst the pulsing crowd of the nightclub.
Your fingers find their way up the lapels of his coat, the soft leather creaking in places as you tighten your grip around it.
His fingers have pulled your dress up now, revealing the cheeks of your ass to the potent kiss of the cool air and anyone who would happen a glance down into the deep trench of the ally.
“Dieter.” He gruffs.
Your lips meet in a gritty collision. His bedraggled scruff brushes against your skin; a coarse texture that adds a raw intensity to the kiss. It's not tender, but a desperate melding of the two of you clattering against one another. A rebellion against the urban pulse around you.
His fingers claw into the meat of your ass as your tongue clashes with his, sucking the remnants of the whiskey he sank at the bar out of his gums.
When his hands make contact, pawing at your bare skin as he pinches the plump flesh between his fingers, there's a roughness; an unapologetic texture that speaks of calloused resilience. Delectable abrasiveness that cuts through the usual softness associated with human contact.
You briefly wonder what it is he does for a living, if he has one at all. Something with his hands perhaps? Either that or he’s not adept to the external care of them. It's not a touch that seeks to comfort as you gasp with his grip that binds. It'll leave bruises and you soar at the thought.
He slaps you; a sting burning on your right cheek, echoing down the alley, which is rewarded with you pushing your tongue further into his mouth with hungry groans.
“What are you gonna do to me, huh?” You tease, catching your breath for a moment. The bite of his chapped lips against yours makes you shudder.
He grabs at your skimpy thong, pulling the sheen of the flimsy material from the nestled crack of your ass, and tears it with ease. The elastic snapping makes you claw deeper into the leather.
“What do you think, baby?” He smirks.
“I think I’m gonna have a good time with you right here.” You gasp as he tongues your neck, tasting the salty brine of your skin.
“Right here, in this nasty alley?” He taunts.
“Yeah.”
“Fucking filthy aren’t you?” He draws back to watch your eyes as his fingers swipe through your folds and coat them in your slick that’s almost watery, there’s so much of it dripping out of you.
“Yeah.” You nod, biting your lip.
“I like it.” He says, as his finger, you're not sure which, teases the entrance of your hole.
He can feel you clench, wanting to bear down around it as he slides the rough pad of it in.
“So fucking wet for me,” Dieter praises.
Your hand palms him, hard and bulging inside his jeans. He grunts like a hog searching out truffles as you squeeze.
You moan as he slips his fingers in, feels like two, but they're so thick it could be more.
“Mmm, fuck.” You whine as you feel him pump them in and out. The sensation grips you like a vice; a gut-wrenching mix of pleasure and discomfort as he stretches and scissors inside you.
“Want to stretch out this little hole, get you ready for me.” Dieter says, as the sound of your cunt squelches loudly around his digits. “Tell me how it feels?”
“It feels so fucking good.”
And it does; it's a prickling awareness that crawls beneath your skin, like the unsettling shiver that precedes a storm as it crawls over your scalp. There's a metallic taste in your mouth as you bite down on your cheeks, groaning and feeling your body start that delicious wind inward.
He pushes in deeper, stroking against the fleshy, swollen spot that makes your thighs tremble.
“Oh God…” You whine, trying to steady yourself against him as you cling onto this belt. Desperate to unlatch it, but unable to focus on the task fully as he faps harder.
The cleft of his hand pushes against your clit as a noise similar to a toad escapes your throat.
“You don’t even know where these fingers have been, do you?” Dieter says, lips rolled over his teeth. “And now they’re in your cunt. Oh, I can feel you tighten… you like the thought of that, huh? My fingers in someone else and then fucking you with them. God, you're nasty.” He smirks.
You grin as you pull on his bottom lip, nipping on it ravenously as he hisses.
“Taste it. Taste how wet I just made you, baby. Yeah.” He slips his fingers out of your pussy and into your mouth; your slick coating your lips like freshly applied gloss. You lick in between them, murmuring in delight as he simmers at you darkly.
He stuffs his fingers back into your soaked hole. You’re so wet that it sticks in your thighs, cooled by the faint breeze that ripples down the scummy alley.
“Look at you standing here with my fingers in your pussy. Fucking slut. Are you a slut for me?” Dieter mutters, his hot mouth in your face.
"Yeah, I'm a slut for you, Dieter." You moan.
He licks up the side of your jaw, all the way up your cheek and hums in your ear. “Get my cock out.”
You pull his belt open, chinking against itself as you unbutton and unzip him. You reach in and groan loudly at what you find.
“You wanna fuck me with this big cock, Dieter?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
He’s heavy in your palm, thick. A prominent mushroom head that's flushed scarlet under the purple hues and weeping. Sticky and warm as the strings of his precum coat your fingers like webs.
“Shit, you’re so big.” You groan, glancing down at it. You stroke up and down, engrossed in the skin that rolls back over his glossed head.
“You like big cocks inside you?” He utters, losing his breath as you squeeze around him.
“Yeah.” You nod, hypnotically.
“I bet you do. I bet this pussy’s been filled with lots of ‘em, hmm?” He emphasises the point by gripping you close and pumping his fingers in and out of you in a punishing tempo.
“Fuck!” You caterwaul. “Oh God! Yeah!”
The squelches are louder, the wetness of your pussy obscene as the drenched smacks of it click down the alleyway.
“Look at the mess you’re making.” Dieter stops to pull his fingers out, your slick running down them, and he sucks them into his mouth hastily. “Mmm… fuck, you taste good.”
He faps again, curling his fingers up inside you and your thighs thunder against him.
“That’s it, give it to me. Come on my fingers, baby.” Dieter prompts.
It pulses through your veins like a relentless drumbeat, a primal rhythm echoing the anticipation bursting in your chest. It's not a refined thrill but a visceral surge; an electric charge that sets every nerve ablaze. Your senses become hyper-aware, as if the world around you is dialled up to an intense, crackling volume.
The city sounds - horns blaring, distant sirens, the muffled thump of music from the club - merge into a chaotic symphony, adding to the cacophony of your racing heartbeat. Standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground beneath you vibrates with potential.
There's a heat that radiates from within, a feverish warmth that consumes any traces of hesitation, burning it up, as you willing step off the ledge, unafraid of the abyss below.
You cry out, freefalling as his fingers pull it out of you; tightening around them and bearing down as you come.
“Fuck! Fuck!” You pant, your thighs shake and your hips jerk as he thumbs against your clit. The force of it propels you forward into his chest.
“There we go.” He cajoles, grinning at you as you tremble and contort. Your knees buckle as he holds you upright, hand firmly on your ass, still kneading as you regain your sight. “You needed that, didn’t you, baby?”
Dieter leans in and licks up the side of your face again. The sweat from his neck sticks to your jaw, grazing with the hairs on him that smatter there.
“Let me suck it,” you pant as he slips out of you. Your fingers are still curled around his cock as you pump him.
“You like being a slut and sucking strangers' cocks in alley ways, hmm?”
“Yeah. I wanna be on my knees for you as you fuck my mouth, Dieter.” He can’t stop you from kneeling, feeling the pebbly pavement hard on them; gravel embedded in your skin as you lower yourself willingly into the dirt.
You want to be vile, disgusting, perverse for him. Every bit as filthy and unabashed as he is.
You lick up the length of him; a meaty musk floods your nose and the tang of the salt bubbling out the slit of him glues to your tongue.
“Show me what that slutty mouth can do.” He urges, resting back against the wall, legs slightly bowed.
You take him in, feeling your lips stretch around the circumference of him, hollowing your cheeks as you take him down as far as you can without choking. Coating him in sticky saliva as it pools around your mouth.
He shuffles his jeans further down, releasing his balls from the tight confines of them. He grunts as he gathers your hair into a pony around his fist, cocking his head to get a better view of you in the violet lights sucking joyously on his dick.
“Suck on my balls, baby.” He instructs as he watches you pop him out of your mouth. “That's it. Get ‘em nice and wet. Fuck. Yeah.”
His breath bounces in his throat as you lick them, alternating between pulling each of them into your mouth as you suck and roll your tongue around them.
He bends forward, those swollen plums slipping from your warm, wet orifice and taps your cheek with the two fingers he fucked you with.
“Open.” Dieter spits in your mouth, quick and with precision.
It hits the back of your tongue; a discordant punctuation mark that echoes like a rebel yell in the night. You cream instantly as he does it, marks you, tasting that thick glob in your mouth as he butts his cock against your lips.
“So eager to suck dick, aren't you? Fuck, you’re so good at it. Take it deeper.”
You feel the heaves rumble up from your gut as he punches the back of your throat with his thick head. Saliva pools in your cheeks, and you can feel it seep out of your lips and down your chin.
“Oh, you make my cock so wet. Look at that.” Dieter smirks as he tightens your makeshift ponytail around his fist. Pulling you further onto his length until he thrusts in and your nose meets the soft fat of his lower belly.
Pushed in so deeply that you inhale the coarse, curly hairs of his happy trail. Snuffling around them as you try to breathe.
“Choke on it, baby. Fuck, like that.” He grunts out loudly, hissing around his teeth. You hear it echo around the alley. It's like the growl of a neglected engine, a primal sound that refuses to be drowned out by the urban hum.
He does it again, rolling you back down the length of him as you splutter, and before you can inhale, he thrusts hard again, taking your breath away as you retch. Thick strings of drool drip gloopy onto your chest.
He fucks your mouth and revels in it, revels in your eagerness to get off with it.
“Stand up, baby. Gonna fuck that tight pussy right now.” He gasps, unable to delay the gratification any further.
“Yeah!” You cough, wiping your mouth and chin.
“Yeah you want it. Want me ploughing you against this wall?” He pushes you against it, face first, and smacks your ass again. Your cheeks ripple with the force as you whine with a delirious giggle.
“Bend over, baby. I want that ass.” Dieter instructs and you gasp. It's a sonic rebellion, like the crackle of worn vinyl, where each pop and hiss claws up your spine to tantalise and leave you begging for more.
“Oh my God, yes! Put your tongue in my ass hole. Oh yeah! Fuck!” You groan, nails scraping down the wall as he pries your cheeks apart and you feel the wet on his tongue teasing around your puckered rim.
You feel him spit on it; a raw, unapologetic truth as he tongues you, dipping in slightly whilst you squeal. You feel him lick down along your seam, tasting you as his tongue butts your clit and you groan in want.
“Fuck me, Dieter.” You wail. You can’t wait anymore. You need him. “Fuck me hard.”
“Oh, you want it, don’t you?” He stands up, pulling you up a little and positioning you with your legs apart.
He runs his cock inside your wet folds, teasing and groaning as he greases himself up in you.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He growls again. You feel another sting on your ass as he swats it.
You hear his breath pelting in the back of his throat as he jerks himself a couple of times and lines up. His head notches at your entrance, and you automatically push back, lipping yourself over him.
“Desperate for it, aren’t you?” Dieter gruffs. "Take my cock."
The stretch burns a little, but you're so wet that he slides in with minimal effort. You clench around him, dragging him in as his grip knots at your hips.
He pulls back, admiring the purply sheen of you around his dick and then plunges in until he bottoms out.
“Ah, yeah. Fuck this pussy, Dieter.” You seethe through gritted teeth; an internal tempest, a storm brewing within the confines of your body and mind as he fills you up and packs you out.
It's a visceral upheaval, an electric surge that ignites every nerve and sets your senses ablaze. Another coiled spring, ready to unleash a torrent of unrestrained energy.
His cock plunges deeper, faster, setting into a rapid-fire surge that jolts your senses into hyperactivity. Every synapse seems to spark with the pulsing flare of just coming, and coming hard around him.
It's a fireworks display of thoughts, each one exploding before you can decipher it, gone before you have the chance to form coherent understanding as his cock batters all sense of symbiotic thought out of your skull.
“You feel me? Stretching you open like that?” Dieter puffs as he winds deep.
“Yeah, I like it. Balls deep in my fucking pussy.” You grunt, biting so hard at your lip that you can taste loose change.
“Oh, you like it deep, baby. Fuck.”
“Does my pussy feel good?”
“So good, baby. Shit.” He pants. You feel his fingers clawing into your hips now, yanking you back with each snap.
“So tight around your big, hard cock fucking me.” You husk as he strips your breath from you again.
“Oh fuck, you got a mouth on you, baby.”
“I want you to fill it with your come, Dieter.” You throw a look over your shoulder at him, and he smirks, puffing as he works; lilac sweat inking around the trench of his throat, tracking down his chest and staining the V of his top darker.
“Come all in that dirty, whore mouth.” He agrees.
“Yeah.”
“Are you a dirty whore?”
“Mmm.” You nod, smiling. You reach round gripping onto his wrist tightly, nails digging in.
“Must be, letting me fuck you like this. Fucking you down this alley, balls deep. Anyone could see you getting it. They can probably hear you.”
“Yeah.”
“Hear how desperate you are for my cock filling you up.”
“I love it! Oh God!” You shriek as he hammers now. The sound of his thighs slapping against your ass cheeks rebeverate down the alley like striking plastic relentlessly.
“Oh my God, your cock feels so good in my pussy! Fuck, you’re so fucking hard, Dieter!”
“You make me hard, baby. You and this tight little cunt.”
“Don’t stop!” You nails claw down the brickwork as you pant and push back onto him.
You can feel it, snapping at you, winding deep into a strangling coil ready to break, urging you to dive headfirst into the current of the electrifying unknown.
"Come for me, baby." He sneers. "Want this pussy soaking me."
He stands you upright taking a step forward so you’re crushed into the wall. The curve of his cock grinds against that perfect spot within you as his thrusts are more indolent, more deliberate now.
His hand is gently on your throat, swallowing into his palm, as he bites on the back of your neck skin, tasting your perfumy glaze.
Your nose grazes against the brickwork as his fingers sweep back and forth, around and around on your rioting clit, tightening with every stroke as he fucks you deep.
“God, you’re fucking me so good right now, Dieter. Don’t stop. Show me how good my pussy makes you feel.” You pant into the mortar, your tongue tasting it as you wail.
“You gonna come for me again, all over me? Let me go home with my cock stinking of you?” Dieter grits in your ear.
“Mmm… fuck.” You groan as he pushes you into the wall further, crushes you as you feel like you could sink into it.
“Say my name, baby. Let everyone hear how good I’m fucking you right now. You wanted to know my name to scream it, yeah? So scream it.”
“DIETER! Oh fuck, Dieter! Yes!”
You flood him as you come, tightening around him as you shake, losing your voice. The shockwave hits you; a dynamo unleashed, a surge of energy that feels as if a thousand champagne bubbles are effervescing beneath your skin.
A pressure cooker reaching its boiling point, the lid lifted, and the steam of excitement escaping in a hissing crescendo.
“Yeah, baby. Come all over my cock That's it… oh fuck!” Dieter grizzles.
The fog of his breath steams in your ear as you come; soaking and contracting around him. Dizzy from the cognitive buzz that thumps heavy between your ears and deafens you with white noise as your ears ring.
“Are you ready? You wanna make yourself come in my mouth?” You challenge, catching your breath.
“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”
Dropping to them with a heavy thud that’s sure to have left them grazed up and bloody, you take him back in your throat, eagerly pumping the base of him as you slurp him down.
“That’s it, suck it for me. Taste that slutty pussy all over my cock.”
“I want you to come, Dieter. Come in my mouth.” You gasp as you take him in deep, sucking hard.
“Oh that’s good, like that. Pretty as a fucking picture. Oh shit. Come on, I know you want it... Pull it all out of me. Suck it harder. Take what you want.” He encourages you as you speed up. Fingers slipping over him as you taste the sweetly honeyed remnants of yourself on him.
“Yeah, keep doing that. Right there. Oh shit… Oh shit, shit. I’m gonna come. Fuck. I’m gonna come right down your throat, baby!” Dieter warns, and you feel him pulse around your lips.
“Fuuuccckkk!” He floods your mouth, pumping hot and salty streams into it as his voice chokes in the back of his larynx.
“Fuck. Show me… let me see it before you swallow.” Dieter pants, tapping the underside of your chin as you pull off of him.
He takes his cock in his hand and squeezes the last drops out onto your tongue that’s full of his pearly spend.
Then, he leans forward, slipping his adept tongue into your mouth as you both swirl them around one another. You groan in delight as he drinks himself from your mouth, both of you swallowing it down together.
A momentary calming serenity descends like a gentle fog, softening the edges of your racing thoughts, settling them into a tranquil pool of abject satisfaction. It's a mental sigh, a release of held breath, the wrangling of taught limbs, as you sigh and hum contentedly as you fall deeper into his rancid mouth.
Questions linger, threatening to jab and pierce through the conscious veil, thoughts that you hold off drafting cohesive answers to until later, refusing to cross over into a threatening taint of reality.
“Fuck,” you groan dreamily as he pulls away. He grins at you, licking his lips as he tucks himself back into his jeans.
Your dress flaps back down around your thighs as you stand upright; the silk of it rippling in the breeze.
Your discarded and torn thong is tangled around the heel of your shoe; you lift your ankle, pulling it free and tossing it aside like your morals and any sense of regret.
“You need money for a cab, baby?” Dieter asks you as he lights up another joint he pulls from his trench pocket.
You shake your head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Sure, sure,” he says nodding nonchalantly, blowing thick smoke into the air.
He offers the joint out to you, the rings on his fingers catching the light in the back of your retinas, but you shake your head again with some unbridled mirth.
A few beats exist between the two of you, marred in something more than post-coital awkwardness. It's as if the exchange between you, marked by the weave of purple hues and the coarse air of the city, has left a lewd mark, staining the alley with more than your flouting promiscuousness and bodily fluids.
As you move forward, back up the alley with your heels clattering and your arms wrapped around yourself and sticky in between your legs, he ambles beside you, throwing a lingering glance that cements the layers of filth permanently under your skin.
His eyes trawl up and down your body as he tokes contemplatively. There's a magnetic pull, an invisible thread that seems reluctant to sever as you reach the familiar noises of the street and branch out towards the curb.
He pulls your elbow back so you avoid colliding with revellers you haven’t seen coming, and his touch leaves a brand that sears blisters on your skin.
You smile and he nods, turning away from you, ready to slink off into the shadows of the night like some would-be anti-hero etched onto the pages of a dogeared comic.
You take a few paces and stop, calling out to him; breaking the charged silence that had veiled over you both during that walk up the deep vein of the alley.
He turns with a whiff of skewed curiosity as you linger, his eyes still roaming over you; a dog still craving your meat.
“You wanna come back with me?” You ask brazenly, the breeze blowing the greased tendrils of your hair onto your lips.
Dieter inhales on the joint thoughtfully, eyebrows knitting together into contemplation and blows a thick wad of smoke out into the air that dissipates above the crown of unruly tufts that are slicked with sweat and have lost some of their fluff now.
The gossamer smoke glows as it thins out, cast in ultraviolet hues from the fuzzed indigo neons of the adjacent club.
He licks his bottom lip wet and sucks it in, releasing it with a pop as he considers the scenario you’ve now put to him - all of them.
You watch with anticipation prickling on your arms and down your back. You can’t help but smirk at him as you wave down a cab. You linger, with the door open, one foot inside the well of the back passenger seat; on the cusp of a farewell that's both a challenge and a beckoning.
Dieter twists his face into a wry acknowledgment; a deep grin that slices at you through the street. A crude, filthy mark left on the gritty canvas of the brickwork, graffiti on the walls and marked on your body alike.
In that uncertain pause between you both, the alley holds its breath.
Thank you so much for enjoying some sleazy Dieter. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and please give it a re-blog if you enjoyed reading. Thank you, lovelies! 🖤
MASTERLIST
Tagging the Dickin' Around With Dieter on Discord Lovelies:
If you want to be removed, that's cool 🖤
@for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @musings-of-a-rose @avastrasposts @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @nerdieforpedro @laurfilijames @goodwithcheese @maggiemayhemnj @linzels-blog @ladybess-a03 @undercoverpena @legendary-pink-dot
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x female reader#dieter bravo the bubble#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo x reader#jett's writing
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part one
———
They’re not careless.
But they’re not careful, either.
They’ve never bothered discussing whether or not they’re trying to be discreet. It was always just the natural way they went about things. Their friends already have so much to worry about, so much to reckon with. It’s a waste of their limited time to sit them down and announce to them that they’re — what, sleeping together?
This is what Keith tells himself.
He sees the hurt in Lance’s eyes, when he flinches away from his touch. He knows it’s worse still because he is an instigator, because he is so fucking incapable of keeping his hands to himself. His palm will find the small of Lance’s back like a magnet to steel, his shoulder will soften itself so Lance can rest his head. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, half the time, doesn’t notice the way he seeks out Lance’s hand or crowds too close to him until he catches someone’s eye, watching them, and springs apart, flings Lance’s away from him like he’s been burned.
I love you.
Isn’t that reason enough?
In the morning Keith wakes up sweltering. In the back of his mind, as it always does, burns the skin-crawling feeling of being watched. There’s no one in the bedroom and he knows it, but shame runs down his spine anyway. Suddenly the blankets twisting his and Lance’s legs together are binding, and the press of their sweat-slick skin tigger is revolting, sticky. The nausea that churns lowly in his belly at all times bubbles infinitely more aggressively than usual, and Keith knows if he doesn’t extract himself immediately he’ll explode; chunks of him will hit the walls and his blood will paint the tile floor. He inches under his skin, bile coats the back of his throat, heart pounding so fast it’s a him.
A low, quiet quiet groaning noise startled the hell out of him. He looks over and Lance is shifting, sliding his arms out from under the pillow and turning slightly, so he’s facing Keith instead of the wall, hands curled into his chest and under his chin.
There’s a pillow crease steamed across his cheek, and his face is smushed by the pillow, forcing his lips to pucker.
Keith smiles.
The roaring in his head quiets somewhat. Without thinking he reaches out his hand, fingertips tracing the creased skin of Lance’s cheek so lightly he hardly touches with anything more than his callouses. His skin is warm to the touch, but not overly so.
Keith lets out a long, hard breath. His heart rate slows. He traces the pucker of Lance’s lip, feeling the curve of his cupid’s bow, noting the tiny scars from where Lance picks the skin when he’s bored or nervous.
Slowly, as if a string is pulling them together, Keith leans down. Somewhere between his pillow and Lance’s his eyes close, and the press of their lips is that much softer.
It should be gross. They both have morning breath, and minutes ago the thought of their bare skin touching made Keith want to throw up, but now the press of Lance’s chapped lips to his is addicting and calming and electrifying.
“Mmf.”
Lance stirs, groggy and half awake, but it’s — this is not the first time he’s woken to Keith’s closeness.
It takes him a few seconds to boot up, for his brain to catch up with the way his hands are already sliding up the back of Keith’s neck, tangling in his hair. Keith knows he’s awake when he feels the flutter of Lance’s absurdly long eyelashes against his cheekbones, when his mouth stretches into a grin too wide to kiss properly.
“Hi,” he mumbles happily. He keeps one hand on the base of Keith’s skull, letting the other one slide coyly down the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his chest, the line of hair under his navel, resting cheekily on the top of his waistband. Every brush of his fingers washes away the burn shame still lingering. “You’re touchy this morning.”
Keith hums. He presses his lips to the corner of Lance’s mouth, to his cheek, to his jaw, down his neck. His stubble must be too light on Lance’s skin because he laughs, airy, smacking his palm on Keith’s scapula. Keith snickers, rubbing his cheek harder along his neck just to make him shriek, revelling in the way Lance wraps his legs around his hips to try and flip him but can’t, the way he shoves and pinches but lets up the second Keith starts to suck a bruise on his collarbone.
He’s so easy.
“Keith,” Lance whines, but it’s breathy and Keith wants to swallow to sound. “Keith, we’re disgusting. Your breath stinks and if I don’t shower I’m going to hurt somebody. Probably you. Do you want me to hurt you?”
Keith reaches up, pressing Lance’s fingers deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, and lets his silence speak for him.
Lance snorts, and Keith knows he has him because he melts visibly. “You dog.”
The hand in Keith’s hair starts to move, combing through the tangled strands, scratching gently at his scalp. Keith doesn’t let up, but he softens in kind, letting his lips on Lance’s skin morph into something softer, more chaste.
“We can screw in the shower?” he offers, voice hopeful. “That’s a good compromise.”
It is a good compromise, but Keith is feeling bold (i love you isn’t that reason enough it’s physical you have ruined everyone you ever loved it’s physical it’s physical it’s physical), so he sets out to guarantee Lance will bend.
He pulls away from Lance’s neck, just slightly, and looks up from under his lashes, widening his eyes just so.
And watched with great pleasure as Lance crumbles.
He shoves Keith’s face away, red-cheeked and huffy, throwing off the covers and stomping to the ensuite. He grumbles all the way there, much of it too low for Keith to hear but much more of it loud and pointed and intentional (Keith knows what zorra means, thanks.)
“I want to actually shower,” Lance says sternly, water droplets flicking off his wagging finger and landing on Keith’s nose.
Keith nods sagely. “We will.”
“In decent time, Akira.”
“Of course.”
“I have stuff to do today.”
“Me too.”
“Minimal shenanigans.”
“Minute.”
The shower lasts well over an hour.
“Wipe the smirk off your face,” Lance demands, but his lips are twitching, too,
Keith grabs him by the waist and dips him, laughing, kissing him soundly and wholly and he wonders what the fuck is his problem. He wonders why he has to be so goddamn resistant to things, why he works himself up so bad, why any of that shit matters. Why can’t he have this? Why can’t he have — one good thing, the one; why can’t he have Lance’s gun-calloused palms on his cheeks and smile pressed to his and deep dark brown eyes warm and pretty and happy and pointed at him? Why can’t he have that? Why can’t things be good and simple, why can’t this be something he can fall into?
I love you.
Isn’t that reason enough?
He’s not careless. He can’t afford to be.
But he’s — loosened. His guard is down. They get dressed and ready for the day and Keith follows Lance out their door and he’s laughing, and his hand is curled around the curve of his waist, and they smell of the same shampoo.
“Does it amuse you to make me late for things, you jackass — oh! Hunk!”
Keith inhales sharp and short. He yanks his hand away like it hurts to keep it there for a second longer, stumbling backwards.
“Hey, guys.”
Something tight and painful coils in his stomach, and his blood turns to lead. Hunk’s expression is carefully, carefully pleasant; soft, even, as he returns Lance’s hug and greeting.
But the pinprick at the back of his neck is back. The shame, hot, crawls down his spine, blooms heavy in the hollow of his chest.
“I’m gonna go — train,” he chokes out, hyperaware of the bruise on Lance’s neck, of the cobweb in the corner of his room, the braid in Keith’s hair; hyperaware of Hunk’s eye on them.
“Aw,” Lance pouts. “You sure?”
Keith can’t manage a verbal response. His throat has closed, aching, dry, desolate. He barely manages a nod.
“We’ll see you at dinner?” Hunk asks, only there’s no request in his voice, and Keith doesn’t miss how his body has curved, slightly; just barely nudging Lance behind him, as if he is to be protected, as if he is to be protected from Keith.
I love you.
You have ruined everything you have ever loved.
Isn’t that reason enough?
Physical, physical, physical.
Keith turns and flees.
#what if keith can not know peace#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#keith#keith kogane#klance#established klance#fwb#but not rly#flower crown au#flower crown#keith angst#klangst#brown eyed lance#black paladin keith#red paladin lance#keith has anxiety#and bad#traumatized keith#my writing#fic#longpost
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Magnetic Eyelashes Market: Global Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecast 2022-2028
The Global Magnetic Eyelashes market was valued at USD 1.32 billion in 2021 and is expected to reach USD 1.74 billion by the year 2028, at a CAGR of 4%.
Consumers have been enhancing their natural Eyelashes since the late 1800s when Parisians sew their hair through eyelids. Later at the start of the 20th century, gluing fake lashes to eyelids with spirit gum, and applying entire strips of lashes with adhesive was popular as this was a non-invasive technique. Moreover, in the 2000s, modern solutions emerged to highlight eyelashes. Eyelash extensions, eyelash growth serums, and individual lashes all these products helped consumers to make their eyelashes look more dramatic. These solutions enhanced the appearance of the eyes, but most of them need glue or other adhesive substances as a lash applicator. Furthermore, unlike the fake, faux, or false lashes that require glue for their attachment, magnetic eyelashes just snap over the real ones. In addition, magnetic eyelashes require a kit that includes fake lashes with a magnetic strip and an eyeliner specifically made for this purpose. Iron oxide is the main component of these eyeliners that work like a paint-on magnet, while the lashes have a tiny strip of magnets along the bottom. With this eyeliner consumer just needs to line the top of the eye and stick the desired eyelash on it, these lashes get attached along the lash line that locks together and secures along the natural lash line, thus elevating the makeup look. The design of magnetic Eyelashes is simple, it has two strips of lashes having tiny magnets embedded on them. These are designed to fit both above and underneath of user's natural lashes.
The research study includes an examination of many aspects that contribute to the market's expansion. Market trends, restrictions, and drivers that have a favorable or negative influence on the market are included. This section also discusses the many businesses and applications that may have an impact on the market in the future. The information is based on both recent and historical patterns. The cost structure, market size, Magnetic Eyelashes Sales, Gross Margin and Market Share, Price, Revenue, Size, Forecast, and Growth Rate are all calculated in the report.
To learn more about this report, request a free sample copy:
https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/request/15968
Key Industry Players in Magnetic Eyelashes Market:
· Ardell Lashes & Beauty (US)
· Ulta Beauty Inc. (US)
· ESSYNATURALS (US)
· Arishine Beauty (US)
· Acelashes (US)
· Emeda eyelash Company (China)com (UK)
· Vassoul (US)
· MoxieLash (US)
· One Two Cosmetics LLC. (US)
· Aroamas LLC. (US)
· reazeal.com (US)
· KISS Products Inc. (US)
· Dolvlashes (China)
· Glamnetic (US)
· Jaime's Choice (Canada)
· and other major players.
The report is a compilation of first-hand information, qualitative and quantitative assessment by industry analysts, inputs from industry experts and industry participants across the value chain. The report provides in-depth analysis of parent market trends, macro-economic indicators and governing factors along with market attractiveness as per segments. The report also maps the qualitative impact of various market factors on market segments and geographies.
Segmentation Analysis Includes,
By Type:
· Strip Lashes
· Individual Flare Lashes
· Individual Single Lashes
By Raw Material Type:
· Synthetic Hair
· Human Hair
· Animal Hair & Fur
By Color:
· Black
· Brown
· Multi-Color
· Others
By Distribution Channels:
· Supermarket & Hypermarket
· Convenience Stores
· Online
· Others
By Region:
· North America (U.S., Canada, Mexico)
· Europe (Germany, U.K., France, Italy, Russia, Spain, Rest of Europe)
· Asia-Pacific (China, India, Japan, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, Rest of APAC)
· Middle East & Africa (Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Iran, UAE, Africa, Rest of MEA)
· South America (Brazil, Argentina, Rest of SA)
Will you have any doubt about this report? Please contact us on:
https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/inquiry/15968
Key Questions Answered in the Report:
· How Do Magnetic Eyelashes Work?
· How Long Do Magnetic Eyelashes Last?
· What Are The Growth Prospects Of The Global Magnetic Eyelashes Market?
· Which Are The Key Players In The Magnetic Eyelashes Market?
· What is an opportunity for the magnetic eyelashes market?
· Which region dominates the global magnetic eyelashes market?
The growth of the magnetic eyelashes market is expected to be driven by the growth of the organized retail sector in Asia-Pacific. Magnetic eyelashes are being accepted over other types of eyelashes as they are easier to use and remove. Also, the chances of falling down the lashes are less compared to the eyelashes, which are glued. However, the presence of private-label brands may hamper the growth of the global magnetic eyelashes market during the forecast period. The influence of social media acts as a lucrative opportunity for the key players in the global magnetic eyelashes market.
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https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/checkout/?user=1&_sid=15968
The global magnetic eyelashes market has been divided into store-based and non-store-based segments depending on distribution channel. Supermarkets and hypermarkets, specialty stores, and other stores make up the store-based component. The largest sub-segment is projected to be supermarkets and hypermarkets, as these channels represent for the majority of magnetic eyelash sales.
Related Report: -
https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/eye-smudge-brush-market/
https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/eye-shadow-powder-market/
https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/ultra-fine-eye-liner-brush-market/
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So What’s All The Fuss About Magnetic Eyelashes?
New Post has been published on https://www.vivrelereve.co.uk/so-whats-all-the-fuss-about-magnetic-eyelashes/
So What’s All The Fuss About Magnetic Eyelashes?
I’m excited to be featuring something we’ve been testing out for the last few weeks here at Vivre Le Rêve, magnetic eyelashes! These lashes are made of high quality synthetic fiber, so they’re ultra-thin and comfortable. Plus they’re soft and natural like real eyelashes.
Personally, I’ve never really gotten along with adhesive eyelashes, the thought of accidentally gluing my eyes shut or managing to rip out my own natural lashes when it came to removing them freaked me out way too much! So the fact that these are glue free makes them ideal, if you’re a bit of a scaredy cat like me.
There are three miniature magnets on each pair of lashes. The upper and lower double magnets clamp the roots of your natural eyelashes, and holds them securely. They’re also waterproof! The dual magnet design makes sure that they stay put all day.
With this set you get 2 pairs (8pcs) of lashes. For a more natural look, you can use your own eyelash curler to curl them with your lashes. Just like regular adhesive eyelashes, it takes a few times to really get the hang of putting them on. But once you get it, it’s so easy! You’ve just gotta get your technique down. I wear them all the time, because they’re reusable and they stay on! I always start with a light layer of mascara first. The best thing is if you do make a mistake you can easily just take them off and move them!
You can buy these here. We’re super excited to be able to offer our readers the chance to win 2 pairs of these fantastic magnetic lashes. For your chance to win, just enter via the rafflecopter below. We have 4 sets to giveaway, Good luck!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Terms & Conditions
Firstly, this promotion is open to residents of the UK only.
No purchase necessary.
By entering the prize draw entrants agree to be bound by any other requirements set out on this page.
Entry is only available online. No responsibility can be accepted for entries not received, only partially received or delayed for any reason.
Entries that are incomplete, defaced or damaged will be deemed invalid.
Entries must not be sent through agencies or third parties. Any such entries will be invalid. No trade or multiple entries.
No responsibility will be accepted for entries lost, delayed or damaged in transmission.
Winner details will be publicly announced if permission is granted.
Competition closes at 12am on 27th November 2019. Entries received after this time and date will not be entered into the draw.
The prize is a set of Full Eye Magnetic Eyelashes.
Prize details are accurate at the time of promotion; the promoter reserves the right to substitute the prize for one of greater or equal value.
Consequently, the decision of the promoter in all matters is final and binding.
The Promoter reserves the right to withdraw the promotion due to circumstances beyond its control. Neither Vivre Le Rêve™ nor any other respective agents involved with this promotion. Shall be liable for any failure that is caused by something outside its reasonable control. Such circumstances shall include, but are not be limited to. Weather conditions, fire, flood, hurricane, strike, industrial dispute, war, hostilities. Political unrest, riots, civil commotion, inevitable accidents, supervening legislation or any other circumstances relating to Force Majeure.
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Learn how to apply magnetic eyelashes and recreate this fresh dewy Christmas look using Ardell Beauty Look below in my live IGTV with fellow makeup artist Bronte Hellmers.
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Shopping for the latest false eyelash applicator has now become easier with Lashfleek. The products are made of top quality materials and have stringent quality control standards. If you have any question you can simplify the steps of false lashes application, simple to apply and eliminate, you do not need to use eyeliner after applying lashes. For more information on the products or using the product, please don't hesitate to contact the customer care executives for resolutions.
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with a smile on your face.
Anon requested on 210315: “Would you write the lyric prompt 52 for Jungkook with the quote being about Jungkook and the reader being in awe of his love ? Thank you!!!”
Song lyric prompt 52: “You’re beautiful, that’s what you are, and I still don’t know how we fell in love.” Jeremy Zucker; orchid.
Find the rest of the prompts here!
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x gender neutral reader
Genre: fluff, (newly) established relationship, holiday-esque (there’s snow, lol).
945 words
No warnings; rated PG.
“I'm just so happy you're living. Wouldn't ask you for more.”
Alternatively, in which Jungkook is awe-struck as he watches the first snowfall of the year, but you’re more content watching him.
A/N: So I’m back on my atmospheric bullshit again. LOL. No, but—I don’t know—there’s something that I’m fond of when writing from a feeling rather than an idea if that makes any sense? These often aren’t my most-popular fics, but they end up being my favourites in the long run. Here’s another one that I find myself thinking about a lot. Although it’s unspecified when this fic takes place during the holiday season, I decided to incorporate it as part of @ficscafe’s holiday event. I saw so many idols excited about the first snow in Korea; this is based on those countless posts from a few days ago.
Here is the song that I used to inspire this fic, along with its lyrics.
••
In a split-second—
"Look!"
—Jungkook's aura transforms.
"It's the first snow."
It's degenerating in a sense, as he submits to the boy-like wonder complete with wide eyes and upturned bitten lips while his pupils hurriedly flicker back and forth as if that's the only way he'll absorb the winter scene in front of him.
"It's not like this is the first snowfall you've seen," you say as you approach your boyfriend, smiling, hand tingling after gently swiping your palm over the top of his head to rid him of the growing layer of fresh snow accumulating in sharp contrast to his dark hair.
It's not windy out; it's rather peaceful, actually. The sun had already set hours ago, so the two of you are bathed in nothing but the dull amber of streetlamps guiding your path home. No, there's some colour, too—and you can see it reflected in Jungkook's eyes. The blues and reds and oranges and greens of the holiday lights strung across your neighbour's street-facing balcony on the other side of the road.
And through all of the lights trying to steal his spotlight, Jungkook doesn't fail to shine brighter than them all.
"You're beautiful."
The boy's eyelashes flutter, damp and cold from the snow's contact, blinking twice and then once more for good measure before he meets your eyes.
The air is still and without another sound that proves you're not the only ones on the planet at this moment, and yet, Jungkook's face reads as if he didn't hear your honest confession.
"You are," you add, keeping your gaze on his and not missing the way his cheeks swell with an even bigger grin than the snow could give him.
He can feel it in his heart—almost akin to yearning, but not in the sense that he's longing for something that's not there, as his everything is already before him: clad in inappropriate footwear for the snowy weather and a long grey scarf that took far too much time to go on clearance. It's a tugging, magnetic connection that draws him two steps closer to you until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. Your hands are suddenly enveloped in his gloved ones, then pushed inside of his jacket pockets for safekeeping.
The very end of Jungkook's nose is red. From the neon closed sign of the breakfast and lunch cafe beside you or from the temperature, you can't pinpoint with certainty. His nose could be blushing for all you may know.
"Not as beautiful as you," words finally slip from his mouth, competing with the warmth from his hands as the feeling goes straight into your chest—flooding your heart—and then spreads through the rest of your body from there. "And no," Jungkook continues, "it's not the first snowfall I've seen, but it's the first one with you."
He's not wrong, yet you find yourself asking, "But why would that make it any more special?"
Jungkook's been patient with you since you began dating in the springtime. From mild work frustrations to him eventually giving you advice on how to change your career path—yes, Jungkook has been nothing but patient with you.
"Because it's you," he says.
Because he's in love with you, lies beneath the surface.
"Silly," he adds, "anything's special to me when it's with you," stating it as if it's the most obvious fact to him.
If your hands weren't still inside of Jungkook's pockets, you're sure your fingers would be numb by now as the tips of your ears are, along with the point of your nose. But regardless of the cold, regardless of the snow still silently blanketing the earth, peppering infinite frozen kisses onto your exposed skin—Jungkook's warmth is more than enough to keep you cozy.
Awe is an understatement as you stand here now. In fact, you're not sure that there's even a word fitting enough to encapsulate what exactly you feel because of Jungkook. Saying it's love seems like the easy way out. Of course, it's love, but it's also something beyond that. It's Jungkook's thumb as it pads over the back of your hand; it's the urge to lean in and kiss him even though your mouth is dry from the walk here and your lips are surely chapped from the cold.
It's the mutual understanding that although you're less than a block away from home, you remain standing under the open sky, under the first snowfall of the season, because neither of you wants to break this feeling—this funny, funny feeling, whatever it is, love or otherwise—that has taken your souls hostage and refuses to let them go.
You could argue that right now, time has stopped its motion. That is, if the snow, too, stopped—but on and on it cascades down, graceful as ever.
"Let's go home," you whisper as if anything louder than a pin drop will destroy the tranquillity of the outdoors.
"Let's go home," Jungkook repeats, only allowing one of your hands to be free back to your side but keeping the other snugly safe in his pocket.
The world may be silent, but the countless stream of words that could fall from your lips speaks loud enough as it passes through your arm and into your hand, into your boyfriend's hand and up his arm, finally reaching his centre.
You haven't said it aloud yet—the exchange of three words that only when strung together inspire meaning. It’s not that neither of you can be bothered, but you can already feel it stronger than ever.
Jungkook's smile returns as he feels your message.
You lazily stroll home, one of your hands still in his coat’s pocket.
••
#ficscafe holidays#kdiarynet#kwritersworldnet#bangtaninn#blackswannet#newskynet#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook fluff#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts jungkook#bts jeon jungkook#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jeon jungkook imagines
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All guys are suckers for a beautiful pair of eyes. Any girl who can flutter her eyes at a guy can often get him to do her bidding. Women have traded on this ability from time immemorial and throughout history, men have been making fools of themselves because women captivated him by fluttering her eyes and the thick long dark eyelashes appear to have a hypnotic affect. But not all girls have the long dark eyelashes that seem to be of great power when used for this effect. And most girls would love to have the ability but their eyelashes are short and sparse. In order to enhance them, they use mascara or fake best magnetic lashes.
#best magnetic eyelashes#top rated magnetic eyelashes#glam magnetic lashes#magnetic eyelash extensions
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Now that Jonmartin Week has come and gone, I do want to make an art post for the banners I did for it. These were the first time I did this large of a project (in terms of number of individual compositions) and I’m honestly kinda proud of that.
So yeah, hope you enjoyed them 💚
(Image Descriptions beneath the cut, otherwise this post would be way too long.)
1 Month
[a large moth with its wings outspread is centered on a background that gradates from a desaturated, pale hue to a navy blue under the moth’s body. The moth is a light teal, with darker teal on the edges of each of its four wings and circular patterns close to the wings’ centers. The moth has a mane of dark teal fluff directly under its head and above its abdomen. Around the border of the image are painted uneven blades of green grass. Small, glowy yellow orbs float across the entire image. Centered on the image in glowing, yellow font are the words: “1 Moth Left Before Jonmartin Week”]
1 Week
[a large, vibrant, emerald green eye is just left of center on the composition. It has five eyelashes coming off the top and bottom. The eye appears to be floating in a sky with long, thin blue-green clouds spread out around it. The sky is a light green directly around the eye and darkens, in a radial gradient, to the borders of the composition. Encasing the sky, around the perimeter of the composition, are blue-green rolls of fog. Centered in the comp are the words: “7 Deyes Left Before Jonmartin Week” with the “y” in “Deyes” positioned right over the pupil of the eye. The text is black with a bright blue outline.]
Day 1
[a banner split into two halves. The left side is mostly covered with comfortable-looking jumpers of varying color and design on a yellowy-orange background, which gradates to reddish-purple hues on the right side of the banner. Dark magenta clouds border the right side and recede into lighter shades going back. Hidden amongst the clouds are purple nightmare creatures with orange eyes, pointy ears, and claws. Across the middle of the banner are the words, “Day 1: Comfy Jumpers // Nightmares,” in bright green.]
Day 2
[a pile of out-of-focus papers are arranged across the banner. On the left is one with squiggles in lieu of words and symbolic red hearts scattered across it. Centered is one with darker squiggles and a representation of an anatomic heart. On the right is an x-ray of a hand and wrist. Under the anatomic heart paper and the x-ray is one titled ‘medical records’. Nothing else on it is visible. Around the border of the banner is a heart rate pulse with pink symbolic hearts scattered around it. Centered and in-focus across the paper, in hot pink, are the words: “Day 2: Love Confession // Injury.]
Day 3
[a beach with waves washing up on the shore is angled, from the bottom left corner to the top right corner, across the banner. There are two sets of footprints, one heading into the water and one leaving it, going from and to the top left corner, on a path that disappears off the composition. On each side of the path is a green grassy area with small, dotted red, yellow, and violet flowers. Overtop the waves across the bottom right corner and stretching across both connected sides are dark blue fog clouds with numerous green eyes dotted across them. The words, “Day 3: Healing & Recovery // Self Sacrifice”, in a saturated, medium blue, are centered on the banner.]
Day 4
[a golden-brown parchment banner. Around its border is the magnetic tape of tape recorders. Sitting on the tape in various spots are tea bags. In the upper right corner are two cassettes with the magnetic tape running through them. Situated on the bottom, under the magnetic tape, is a tape recorder. A teacup on a dish is in the top left corner. Scattered beneath it on that side of the banner are sugar cubes. Centered in the banner, in coppery-brown, are the words: “Day 4: Tea // Tape Recorders.” The banner beneath the words has brown tea stains.]
Day 5
[Two hands come together from opposite sides of the banner and clasp around each other. The one on the left has a purple jumper sleeve around its arm, a lighter complexion, and bandages wrapped around the hand and the wrist. The right one has a red sleeve, a deeper complexion, and scars all over the fingers and wrist. In the background is a deep crevice disappearing into an abyss. In the middle distance is the broken parts of a bridge that used to span it, one on each cliff. In the foreground is a complete bridge spanning the crevice. The words, “Day 5,″ are situated directly above the hands, and “Trust // Scars,” directly below it.]
Day 6
[an envelope with a heart seal holding it closed on a muted yellow-orange background. There are roses and ivy vines growing out of it. The roses are on the left side, pinkish red in color, and range from being buds to full blooms. Their vines are dark green with clusters of small, light green, oval leaves. The ivy is on the right side and has large, 3-pointed leaves. Its vines are dark green and the leaves are a slightly lighter green. Around the border of the composition are spiderwebs on a dark blue background. The words, “Day 6: Flirting // Jealousy” are overtop the middle of the composition in light blue.]
Day 7
[Green, rolling hills disappear back into the horizon. Scattered across them are Scottish highland cows either grazing or looking around. The sky above is light blue, though it gets darker the farther it goes up. In the top right corner is a golden sun with orange flames. There are two fat, white, puffy clouds in the sky. A brown brick cottage with a red roof and smoke coming out of its chimney is in the bottom left corner. Around the composition is a border of smaller hills, dandelions, and dandelion seeds floating up into the sky. In the middle of the banner are the words, “Day 7: ‘You Are My Reason’ // Pining/Longing].
Day 8
[a composition split into four parts. On the left is a mermaid with tan skin and black hair sitting on a boulder in the ocean. He is looking away from the viewer. Water is lapping up the sides of the boulder. On the middle top, is an airship flying through thin clouds. It has the body of a seafaring ship with a large, purple zeppelin balloon rigged above it. A set of pink fin-like wings are attached to the hull. On the middle bottom is an open book with squiggly lines in place of where words should be. On the right is a teal dragon sleeping on top of a tower. Ruins and dense forest surround the tower. Thick, bluish clouds separate the four scenes from each other, and across them where they pass through the center sits, “Day 8: Free // AU Day” in light blue.]
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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10
Rating: Explicit.
‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.
Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!
A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?
My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...
"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"
He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."
The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -
"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"
I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.
"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.
I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.
The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.
"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."
"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.
He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.
God help me.
I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.
A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.
"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.
"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.
I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.
"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.
"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.
"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.
There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.
"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.
Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.
"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.
"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."
"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.
I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.
"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.
"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.
The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."
"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.
"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"
I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.
"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.
The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.
I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?
"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.
"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.
"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.
"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.
I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.
"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.
"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.
"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."
That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.
"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.
"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.
"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."
"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."
"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.
"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.
"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.
The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.
"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.
My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.
"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.
A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.
"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.
I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.
My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.
"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.
The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.
The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.
"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.
His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.
"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.
"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.
"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."
He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.
My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.
"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.
The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.
He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.
Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.
My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.
His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.
"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.
I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.
THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney
As always, feedback is welcome and this blog is keyboard smash & emoji friendly.
#tony stark smut#tony stark x y/n#tony stark x you#tony stark x reader#stephen strange x y/n#stephen strange x you#stephen strange x reader#bruce banner x reader#bruce banner x y/n#bruce banner x you#bun writes#party favours#TONY NEVER SHUTS UP YO
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Drunk Tank
Mood: (Harley x Ledger!Joker) Harley sees the Joker drunk for the first time. A little window into their relationship after the initial high of getting together has passed, and they’re still settling into living together. This period of time is probably the sweet spot for prompts, btw.
Rating: Domestic 💯
Prompt: From Anon, Harley & J get drunk together or one of them reacts to the other getting drunk.
Drunk Tank, a Harlequin-Tumblr-Exclusive
It was mid-October, just a week after Harley and the Joker’s tussle with the Odessa gang, which of course, ended with Harley murdering their leader Boris Kosov via a brick to the skull. What was she supposed to do, let him live?
Black Canary arrived shortly thereafter, and now Harley was sporting three broken fingers on her right hand as a result of the fight that followed. They were taped up and splinted, rendering her remarkably useless. You couldn’t shoot with broken fingers, let alone be effective with a knife or any other kind of weapon. It was a frustrating injury, and made her feel like a liability, her hand tucked in her coat as she stood to the side while the Joker did the busy work.
Being useless was not something Harley Quinn was well-equipped to deal with, making her feel sulky and even a little depressed.
She and the Joker were almost two months into their experiment in togetherness, and Harley was still riding the wave of certainty and freedom that came with giving in to whatever this thing was between them. She couldn’t define it; she just knew it was there, vibrating at some higher frequency, and making her feel invincible.
Invincible until her own physicality got in the way, it seemed.
They were hardly a ‘talking about their feelings’ couple, but Harley sensed he was annoyed with her moodiness over being injured. He didn’t taunt her about it, which Harley interpreted as a choice to not make her feel worse, a genuinely surprising development. Obviously, there was no sympathy, and no attempt to cheer her up. He just wasn’t making it worse.
Over the last few days, she’d taken to hibernating, and he’d been out with increasing frequency. Maybe avoiding her. Maybe he just wanted to be out. Harley wasn’t sure what to make of it.
She knew the Joker better than anyone, and for the most part she could read him like an open book. Especially when things were good — the giddiness of companionship, the thrill of something new and head-spinningly good elevating everything. But they were only human, and things couldn’t always be good. They definitely couldn’t always be new.
That night J was out with Marty, leaving Harley at the safe house to sulk over her broken fingers and indulge in moody thoughts about the Joker losing interest in her. She didn’t really believe it would be that simple, but she was depressed, and it was morbidly satisfying to go to the darker corners of her mind.
It was edging up to 3 AM, and she was in bed watching reruns of Made in the Diamond District on an old laptop missing most of its keys. Ivania Dumas had just thrown a shoe at Bobby Kennedy’s head when Harley heard the loud creak of the window in the living room opening. Her head snapped up at the CRASH that followed, prompting her to jump out of bed and grab the handgun tucked in a holster slung over the headboard.
Harley sidled up to the bedroom door, flicking the safety off her piece and pressing her back against the wall.
Then there was a gruff sing-songy grumbling out in the living room, making her eyes widen as she realized this was no unlucky burglar.
She stepped out of the bedroom and slapped the light on at the wall, a pair of sconces blinking on, dimly illuminating the cramped kitchen and living room area.
The Joker was sitting on the floor beneath the narrow, horizontal window, having apparently rolled through it and fallen to the floor. His legs were splayed out in front of him, his green-stained hair flopping over his forehead, his warpaint mostly wiped away apart from some black clinging to his eyelashes and red staining his lips.
He blinked rapidly under the lights, squinting up at Harley as she drew closer, her brow furrowed, confused.
“Wait-wait,” he slurred, smirking as he stretched both arms up toward her, swaying. “Don’t shoot, officer. I’m uh… I’m innocent.”
He giggled shrilly and Harley’s eyes widened even further as she realized what she was seeing.
“Are you… drunk?” she demanded, incredulous.
The Joker swayed forward, squeezing his eyes shut as he giggled to himself.
Harley set the gun aside on the kitchen counter, unsure how to react. She’d never seen him drunk before, and she’d never been drunk in his presence either. There just wasn’t time for it. Sure, neither of them would turn down a drink, especially after some especially chaotic work, but it was crucial to be present when you were wanted terrorists constantly on the run from the Batman.
“So, I guess you and Marty had some fun?” she asked tentatively, undeniably curious about this development.
“Mmm,” the Joker nodded sluggishly and shrugged out of his coat, leaving it in a puddle on the floor behind him.
Harley watched him try to push himself up twice only to fall on his ass both times. On his third attempt she stepped forward and grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him to his feet.
The Joker promptly lost his balance and staggered forward into Harley. She caught him by the lapels, but he forced her backward, his hands closed around her waist, fisting into her oversized tee shirt. Harley’s back hit the counter separating the tiny kitchen from the living room, her spine striking the edge, sending a fissure of irritation rolling through her.
“Hey!” she yelped, punching him on the arm with her good hand.
But the Joker just chuckled slyly and proceeded to tug her tee shirt up to reveal the black bikini-briefs she wore beneath. Then he swayed backwards, squinting down at them.
“Dawwwwww,” he cooed, sounding disappointed. “You’re wearing… panties.”
Before Harley could respond, his attention had already shifted. He dropped her shirt in favour of sliding both gloved hands into her hair, which was already greasy and wavy. He rocked back on his heels unsteadily as he flexed his fingers against her scalp, zhuzing her hair to make it big and fluffy before he released her to get a look at his work.
“Mmm,” he blinked at her sleepily, and tucked one messy lock of hair behind her ear.
“Wow,” Harley laughed, not knowing how else to respond to this bizarre behaviour.
“Ya know, there was a girl tonight,” the Joker smoothed her hair back from her face, his gloves snagging a few honey blonde strands, as ungentle as ever.
“A girl?” Harley’s eyebrows rose curiously.
“Mm,” he nodded and flapped one hand carelessly. “My uh… animal magnetism is impossible to ignore.”
“Did she tell you that?” Harley fought back a smile.
“Oohhhh,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It was uh, pretty obvious when she climbed into my lap.”
“Really?” Harley pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Did she realize who you are?”
“Psshhht,” the Joker hissed through his teeth, which might have meant he had no idea and didn’t care. “But I said… sorry sweetheart,” he slapped a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m taken.”
“That’s good to hear,” Harley deadpanned, smirking.
“And she said, awwww, is she gonna get jealous.” His eyes grew heavy as he dramatized the retelling. “And I said, kitty-cat my girl don’t do jealous.”
Harley snorted, amused. But he wasn’t done yet.
“And she went, I bet I can make her jealous.” He threaded his fingers into Harley’s hair again, piling it up on top of her head this time. “And I said, honey, you don’t know my girl. She...” He growled quietly, his eyes suddenly intense as they trailed over Harley’s face, making her heart leap. “She’s a real pistol…”
He tipped forward suddenly, ostensibly going in for a kiss, but his nose crashed into Harley’s cheek, his fingers in her hair pulling at her scalp.
“Alright, Casanova,” Harley pushed on his chest and he swayed backward, his hands falling out of her hair. “Are you hungry?”
“Mmmmmmm,” he seemed to confirm with one big lazy nod. Then he yanked her shirt up to get a look at her panties again.
“Hungry for food,” Harley clarified, grinning openly as she pushed him away.
He staggered back, struggling out of his blazer while Harley circled into the kitchen to dig out left-over Caribbean food from the fridge. As she threw it into the microwave, the Joker stumbled into the bedroom, making Harley laugh softly as she listened to him crash into things trying to get undressed. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, except that with his already-microscopic inhibitions lowered, some exceptionally fond feelings for her were floating to the surface of a brain usually concerned with more practical matters.
Harley examined her splinted fingers, the anxiety that she was annoying him with her ‘moodiness’ dissipating. Maybe he had been annoyed, but if this… affection for her was what was beneath that…
Harley sighed, trying not to beam stupidly as she grabbed the food out of the microwave.
She stepped into the bedroom to find the Joker had divested himself of his clothes, and was sprawled out on the bed naked, attempting to light a poorly rolled cigarette with a disposable lighter.
“That’s dignified,” Harley drawled, handing him the box of take out, distracting him from the cigarette, which he promptly threw across the room in favour of the food.
Harley smiled and shook her head, circling to her side of the bed. She slid into the same position she’d been in before her partner staggered home drunk, demanding her attention. Feeling outrageously content, she tapped on the laptop to the episode playing, thinking that even shit-faced, the Joker was still an agent of chaos.
Just a far less threatening variety of it.
Fin
A/N: For the record, the Joker was totally out drinking with Marty to avoid Harley sulking over her broken fingers, haha. This is a perfect little look at their relationship before this weekend’s new chapter of the Pantomime.
Like it, reblog it, leave a note, show me some love 🥰
"Alright, Casanova” 👇 LOL.
#one shot#prompt#the harlequin#the pantomime#the joker#harley quinn#jarley#fluff#domestic#harley x joker#ledger joker
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Together at last
Pairing: Etain x Darman (Republic Commando book series)
Word count: ~1.8k
Rating: explicit (18+ only)
Warnings: piv sex, unprotected sex (please wrap it lol), oral sex
Author’s note: if you haven’t read RC but are into the clone boys/Jango you can totally still make this work. If you’ve read the books you know Etain’s physical appearance but I don’t describe it here so you can self-insert and imagine whichever your fave clone boy is involved instead!
AO3 link here
“How long do you think it takes two squads to finish their meals in the bar?”
“Long enough I think.”
♡♡♡♡♡
It had been a long time coming; nearly a year of Etain and Darman’s connection. The time they had spent together on Quiilura, the bond they had formed. The way Etain had strengthened it when they were apart, feeling out for Darman through the force. Sometimes she had kept it one sided, feeling to make sure that Darman was there and alive and okay. Sometimes Etain had made her presence felt to him. But this? She knew this had been inevitable, she had felt it. And now she was finally here. Faced alone with Darman after making her feelings clear, locked in her bedroom together.
Its instinctual, what happens next. She sucks in a deep breath, the anticipation coursing through her. Over her whole life, the past year, she had become accustomed to the way adrenalin felt coursing through your body. A feeling different to the living force, but significant all the same. This feeling was the same but different. Like magnets, Etain and Darman come together, physically unable to keep apart much longer.
They crash together, skin pushing against skin as their lips lock. They both wander if they should savour this moment, savour the feeling of each other’s lips against their own. But this mission, it’s not over yet. They still have time, time together before they’re separated again and realistically, neither of them can wait any longer.
Darman pushes Etain against the wall, then hoists her up so her legs are wrapped around his waist, easily making up for the height difference between them. Etain takes the moment, takes Darman’s momentary distraction to deepen the kiss, her tongue running against the line between his lips before she rapidly pushes it into his mouth. He responds and for a few moments they retaliate against each other until Darman breaks it by gently nipping at her bottom lip. Etain lets out a soft moan, taken aback but gloriously intoxicated by the action. Darman slips his hand into the opening of her jedi robes and cups her breast, the other hand still supporting her ass. She leans back slightly as his lips make their way down her neck, kissing and licking as he goes, as he continues to rub his thumb over her nipple. He savours the way it pebbles under his touch, the way her back arches and pushes her further into his palm.
“Off,” she whispers between breathy moans as she digs her fingers into his biceps. Darman swiftly removes her robes – glad for once that the jedi wear such inadequate clothing compared to his own – and he quickly strips off the top to his blacks. He pulls Etain back against him, feeling the skin on skin contact for the first time. He has to take a second then to recompose himself before it all happens too quickly. That is, of course, until Etain begins sucking at the skin between his collarbone and neck. Unable to wait much longer, he throws Etain down onto the bed. She willingly lifts up her bottom half, allowing Darman to strip the last of her layers off, then he does the same for himself.
When he looks back up Etain is staring at him, eyes hooded and biting her lip. And shab, Etain staring at him like that, drinking in his naked body as he looks at her from between her open legs? It’s the best thing Darman has ever seen. He crawls back on top of her, resuming his journey down her body. He starts back at her neck, waiting to start sucking on her delicate skin until he’s below her collarbone where he knows her robes will hide it from preying jedi eyes. He runs his tongue over her nipples, leaning in further to suck on them as she continues arching into him. He growls, a guttural animal noise in response to her soft delicate mewls. He wonders if the rest of his squad, the rest of the commandos can hear. He doesn’t care. He shifts his leg to adjust his position slightly and feels his thigh brush against Etain’s pussy. Its dripping wet for him and his cock responds with a harsh throb. He reaches his spare hand down to touch himself and finds a bead of precum ready and waiting.
He trails his tongue down Etain’s stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. Etain’s skin feels like it’s on fire, sizzling with electricity. She didn’t know it could feel this good. She briefly wonders if the force influences this. If it’s heightening her emotions and the way it feels. It doesn’t feel very jedi like, but she remembers that it’s not just jedi who have the force. This instinct is too carnal, feels to pleasurable to be jedi. But stars, it feels good. Really good. He makes eye contact with her one more time from between her legs, his nose so close she can feel his panting breaths against her clit. The anticipation is killing her. He hovers above her, peering down at her dripping wet folds as he decides where to begin, like Etain is the best meal he’s ever seen. She squirms in response, desperate to feel some sort of friction. When his tongue finally drags up her centre, lapping greedily at her pussy then focussing in on sucking her clit, she cries out in response. He dips his tongue in and out of her, tasting her from every angle possible. As children, they were deprived from taste. Kal did what he could, providing them with uj cake and any other odd titbits he could get his hands on, but nothing he had ever given them could come close to this. The taste of Etain, of his girl, dripping wet because of him.
“Darman,” she whispers between pants as her hips writhe to meet his mouth, “if you keep going I’m going to…I’m going to come.”
For a brief moment, Darman pauses to meet Etain’s gaze as she looks down upon him with lust. He simply snarls back ,”good,” before he doubles his efforts making her writhe more, her moans coming quicker and faster. He focusses in on her clit and gently dips one finger, then two into her core and feels the way she clenches around him in response. It doesn’t take much longer until Etain feels her orgasm rising like a wave, a wave that she surfs on as she tries to make the moment, the pleasure, the elation last for as long as possible. But finally, the orgasm comes crashing down and she has to take a minute to regain her composure.
Darman readjusts his position so that he’s hovering over Etain again. He’s about to ask her if she’s ready, but she senses that and is unhappy with it. She’s waited nearly a year, dreamed about this moment, how he tastes. She’s not letting it be over this quickly. She manipulates the force in a way she didn’t know possible so that it’s Darman on his back and her on top. She shifts her way down the bed until she’s hovering over his cock and takes it in her hand. She bites her lip as she begins rubbing her hand up and down his length. To begin with, he tries to keep eye contact, but he’s soon tipping his head back in pleasure. Finally, she dips her head down. To begin with she just takes the tip of him in her mouth, running her tongue over his head which makes him groan even louder. When she finally dips her head down his whole length, taking him in her mouth as she bobs her head up and down, he has to hold back his yell because if the squad hadn’t heard them before, they’d have heard them then. Etain keeps it up for a while, cupping his balls with her spare hand and hollowing her cheeks as she sucks harder. His hips buck into her, gently; it’s obvious even in the little actions that Darman cares about her and doesn’t want to see her hurt especially by him. But eventually, he reaches his hand down, finds her chin and pushes her head up. Her mouth releases his cock with a soft pop as she looks at him with a pout.
“If you keep going,” Darman pants, “I’m not going to keep up much longer.”
Etain continues to pout, but she nods and Darman takes the opportunity to lift her up and place her on his lap so that she’s straddling him, his hard length hovering between their stomachs. He leans in to softly kiss her, taking a moment to drink in her, drink in the moment. Then carefully, as her eyes are closed in bliss and she’s lost in the moment, he flips her over so they’re back in their original position, Darman on top and Etain lying below him. When he dips his hand back down to her folds he finds her just as wet as before. She reaches down to spread herself open further and Darman slowly lowers himself into position, his head resting against her entrance. He slowly, gently pushes into her, thrusting in and out a few times until his hips reach hers. He stays still for a moment, allowing her to get used to the feeling of him. Then he draws his hips back and sharply pushes back into her and begins his relentless pursuit. One of Etain’s hands finds Darman’s back where she digs her nails in as she attempts to control her moans and the other grips Darman’s ass. Stars, he felt good.
Etain continues to adjust her hips, allowing herself to meet him thrust for thrust. He picks one leg up and throws it over his shoulder, allowing the two to stay close but still allowing him to push in deeper. He feels the way she clenches around him and the way her eyelashes flutter, her breaths still every time he hits that sweet spot.
“You’re close, cyar’ika?” Its half question, half a statement, but Etain nods in response anyway. “Hang on a little longer for me,” he whispers into her ear.
But Etain flips the two again so that she’s on top, completely in control. Darman hoists himself so his back is flat against the wall, allowing him to take Etain’s breast in his mouth. He thrusts up into her as she pushes her weight down and grinds her hips, but both know they can’t last much longer. Darman reaches his hand down and begins rubbing her clit; it doesn’t take long until he feels her fluttering. He pulls his mouth away from her body and looks up into her eyes as he stills, his hips pushed deep into her as they both ride the wave together. Darman wraps his arms around Etain and pulls her in against him, savouring the feeling of ecstasy as the two regain their breaths.
A lot of the things in the clone wars were uncertain. But they both knew that together they would always find a way.
#republic commando#repcomm#etain tur makan#darman#clone commando darman#etain and darman#darman and etain
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The Peepshow
Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.
Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish
Author’s notes: Please read, thank you!
Hello sasusaku fandom, it’s me ya girl, back after so many years to join the fandom once more. I have been missing this couple dearly and after going through a lot of fanarts, I stumbled upon my favorite girl and biggest inspiration strawberrycreampiefluff. She had made a mini doujinshi years ago, and I wanted to create a story about it so badly. So, I contracted her, got her blessings and created this mini monster fic you will read below (which she will hopefully recreate into a full fanart comic when she finds time - love you girl! - please support my friend’s art, it’s amazing!). This is a collab between us sort of. The first chapter is like a prologue - introduction to get the gist of things. This takes place after the last, but before sasusaku travels, kind of an alternate way of how sasusaku got together. I tried to keep the characters as close to canon as possible and this my first official full chaptered fic, so please be kind and leave comments and likes to show your opinion and support.
You can also read it on fanfiction and Ao3.
Next chapter
“Act one: Different mission objectives”
Haruno Sakura walks briskly towards the Hokage tower, her high-heeled shinobi sandals clanking against the pavement as she makes her presence known to the people who pass by. A few heads turn around, mostly males, to stare at her. She is known as one of the most beautiful women – if not the most – in Konoha. As the Fifth’s apprentice, she is working at the hospital as the top chief and she is well respected by shinobi villages all around the world for her talent in medical jutsu.
Sakura is currently dressed her hospital clothes, because her shift at the hospital just ended. She is wearing a button up white shirt that’s left slightly unbuttoned when it reaches her chest, a short black skirt and her white medical robe on top. She is heading to meet Tsunade who just asked for her to be present at her office immediately. The pink haired girl already knows what that means and what it entails.
It is a new mission.
That has to be it. It has been months since the last one, and her working hard as a medical ninja limited her chances of being sent into one. She is more than ready for it. However, she has a feeling this is only the start of bad news. Knowing her teacher, it has to be a special kind of mission. Being called so suddenly like that also gives her the heads up to guess the genre of it.
It must be a flower mission.
Yes, flower, Sakura thinks and nods to herself after waving at some people who greet her.
Flower mission is a term for female ninjas only. It is a code for a seduction mission.
Going and especially accepting a seduction mission is a big step for shinobi women. It is a very sensitive topic and it needs to be handled delicately and in secrecy. It is a powerful weapon which when used correctly, the mission will be done easily or quickly depending on the execution.
The three-man team pattern has most young girls create bonds or worse falling in love and it makes them attached in one way or another to their male teammates. That is why most ninja women have a difficulty seducing another man. The life of a ninja is usually short; you never know what could happen and the kunoichis value the idea of love. Still though, a woman’s power is strong and every kunoichi succeeds efficiently in their own little style.
The moment Sakura comes into the office, Tsunade’s head snaps up. The two women hold eye-contact for a few seconds before the younger medic closes the door behind her with a soft thud.
No one else is in the room, so Sakura guesses that whatever the fifth Hokage is about to tell her must be something of importance. She makes her way into the room and with elegant movements sits down on the chair that is positioned right in front of the desk. There are no formalities between apprentice and teacher when no one is around to watch, and since Tsunade made no sign to stop her, she also speaks first.
“Tsunade-sama, you called me.” It is not a question, but it is not a mere observation either.
The older woman sighs and puts her folded hands beneath her chin. Her eyes close for a moment and then she lifts her head upwards, giving Sakura a fond and soft look like a proud mother would give to her grown up child. A blonde strand escapes from her well-made and low ponytail and her red manicured fingers come forth to tag it back to place. An elegant move, and there is no wonder where Sakura took her beautiful ways from.
“Yes, I did,” Tsunade pauses for a second and then hastily continues, going straight to the point. There is no time for pleasantries. “I have a new mission for you.”
There is no surprise on Sakura’s face and Tsunade cannot tell if she already knew what her intentions are or she has simply masked her face with a facade of indifference. A true kunoichi right there, but then again…it could be the influence of a certain brooding male.
Before Sakura could ask more, Tsunade beat her into it and answers to her unspoken question. “It is a seduction mission.”
This time the girl reacts instantly and she blinks profusely, pink eyelashes fanning rosy cheeks repeatedly. “A-ah,” Sakura lets out a squeaky response, knowing the consequences of such mission.
So I was right! It is a flower mission, she thinks and curses mentally. Here come the arising problems and she has not even started yet.
“I know, but believe me, I have no choice,” Tsunade put her palms atop of the desk and she pushes her chair back slightly, “This mission is specifically made for you.”
The woman knows what she is doing to her student right now, but seriously the girl is one of the best out there. Her exotic looks and endless beauty draws men like magnets to her. Besides, with her alluring ways and witty personality, she can bend even iron willed males, for example, Sasuke Uchiha.
Sakura has already made a list of problems at the back of her mind and her inner self screams in horror.
This is her first official seduction mission. How the hell is she supposed to break the news to rest of Team 7? She cannot straight go up to them and tell them. Naruto will surely react instantly and whine about it until the next decade. She has a feeling Kakashi, being trained under Tsunade, might already know something about this mission and that leaves her with one last important person to tell.
The man her heart yearns for.
After coming back from his redemption journey, Sasuke was a changed man. He was everything she had hoped for. Some parts of his character still remained the same that go back to his genin days, but she saw a new side of him that has been hidden for years, buried deep within all the hatred he harbored for most of his life. The last Uchiha has always been a cool character with a calculating thought process. The difference now was that he was free from the hatred and sins that plagued most of his life.
That is where the healing took place – right at this heart.
While he was away he helped many people during his journey across all the lands. That in return helped him find himself. He learned to love himself again and he stopped being angry at the world. He saw life from a different perspective and by the time he returned the storm inside his mind was calm once more.
Sakura’s heart flourished when he came back two months ago.
The two have been spending time together more than ever. They hang out after Sakura’s shifts at the hospital during the day either alone or with the rest of Team 7, sometimes including Sai. Other days, when their schedules are not so busy, Naruto comes and collects each one of them so they can have dinner at Ichiraku just the three of them. On special occasions, when the Hokage in training feels extra giddy, he will bring Hinata along and they will have something akin to double dates as he likes to call them.
It is an unspoken secret that the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura is a complicated one. They are at the stage where sometimes they act like they are together or other times they are on the verge of being in a relationship. Sakura knows what she is feeling that is for sure. The pure, unwavering love she feels for him is rooted deep within her and grows everyday as she watches him be happier and calmer before her eyes. They have had their moments of intimacy together before. Instances where they became close - she remembers those intense feelings they shared through eye contact and hushed whispers when they were left alone.
The first one was after the war when Sasuke was in prison. The first time he expressed his feelings towards what had happened between them all those years. All the wrong and the ugly parts of himself he wanted to distinguish himself from.
In those quiet moments in the dark where he could not see, his eyes sealed like the criminal he was, he told her the truth. He trusted her now to reveal the ugly truth of Konoha and its elders. He divulged all the hardships his brother, Itachi Uchiha, had to endure to bring peace to the world. In a whisper, he confessed all about his clan like a dirty secret -like he was the sinner and she was the priest. And like the true healer she was, Sakura helped him see the good in him that she knew was still there and gave him disclosure. He accepted her kind words once more with a simple nod and a quiet thank you. But for Sakura, at the current time, it was more than enough. She saw the change in him. It was a small start but she would accept it. The young woman had endured harder things in the past after all.
Later that night, when she cried angry tears at the unfairness of the world, because now she knew finally about the Uchiha massacre, she knew all of them had to endure something hard in their lives and learn to live with it. But god if it did not hurt her that he was the one left suffering the most. And she just wished, she hoped, her love was enough to heal that part of himself that was trying to recover.
The second one was when he left for his redemption journey. While they had spend a few moments together before he left, nothing compares to that single experience. She knew she had to wait for him again, but this time it was not a tear jerking moment with her heart lurching in her throat. No, this time, it was her mind buzzing with all the implications his fingers left on her forehead and the fond look he was giving her.
The third one was when the Konoha 12 had their first night all together again. Of course Naruto had a hand in organizing once again. That little rascal, Sakura had thought then fondly. This guy was always trying his best to bring people together and he was doing a damn good job at it. The fact that he was able to persuade Sasuke into an outing like that was a feat itself.
Everything was going smoothly until the drinks started pouring in. Shots after shots of sake had Sakura feeling pleasantly tipsy that night, but she was not the only with that effect of alcohol on her. Somehow everyone had more than a little in their system and that did not exclude the moody male of Team 7. He was acting normal alright, Sakura would have told you, she was sure of it. But then, Ino Yamanaka, her notorious best friend was dragging her along the dance floor and she could not help but feel a hot stare at the back of her head. Goosebumps arising on her skin had her on edge. She knew then he was blatantly staring at her and he was not trying to hide it in the slightest. It was like then everyone knew what going on and her axis had sifted on its head. She could not fathom this would be the place where Sasuke would lose all his inhibitions, much less with everyone watching in anticipation his next moves. Naruto on the other hand, unbeknownst to her, was throwing just the right comments here and there, making Sasuke see Sakura from a different perspective. About time, if you had asked Naruto; he watched Sasuke analyze Sakura dancing as if she was a riddle ready to be solved.
Sasuke, at the hot age of twenty, was now a young man and finding a woman attractive was the natural course of life. However, for him these new profound feelings confused him. He did not know what he was feeling and all he wanted to do now was stare at Sakura until his eyes tired themselves out. He was ready to activate his sharingan just so he could commit that image to his memory.
That feeling in his chest was starting to bother him though and suddenly he felt all the stares on him from the intense chakra he was producing. Looking around he felt second hand embarrassment for himself, his ears getting red. Getting a shot of sake from the nearby table, Sasuke gulped down its contents and got ready to leave his position at the bar. He could not handle to keep his emotions in check any longer and this was bad. He was not ready to admit to himself what he was feeling and trying to suppress it any longer could do more harm than good. Better he left the situation right now before he put him and Sakura in a compromising position he was not ready to handle yet.
Right at that moment, Sakura decided to turn around, her dress sticking to her like a vice from all the sweat her intense dancing had caused. One look at Sasuke had time freezing. They held an intense eye contact for a few seconds, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She saw the change in him, she has seen that look before when other men had stared her way in the past. It was then she knew, tonight had been something more to him even though nothing has transpired between them yet. Maybe Sasuke was not ready to acknowledge these feelings yet, but Sakura had hope that this was the start of something new between them.
Feeling bold she started to approach him, confident in herself and brave enough thanks to the alcohol she had consumed. The moment she moved, she saw him flatter in his steps. He was about to leave and escape. The fearless Sasuke Uchiha was scared of what was transpiring between them, but she was not about to let him have his chance to escape this time. Sakura saw his jaw clenching and his hand flattering at his side from its place at the bar stool. He stared at her unblinkingly, waiting for her next move like they were about to have a fight at the training grounds.
Sakura then approached the bar like she owned the place and opened her mouth to say the most simple words known to existence.
“Hey, Sasuke”, she greeted in a whoosh, a breathless exclamation. She leaned against the bar stool and waited for the inevitable dismissal of denial.
Sakura found herself surprised however when he went rigid and leaned forward his towering body over her like he was about to whisper a dirty secret in her ear.
“You are different from the last time I remember you,” He confessed hotly, his mouth near her neck. If it was not for the obvious fact that she knew him well, any other person would have thought he was drunkenly leaning on her, but Sakura is not anybody and she understands this the way of him hiding his emotions from showing on his face in the shadows her neck provides.
What a weird way of seeking comfort from his own shyness, Sakura thought.
She idly recalled then that they were not in fact alone and Naruto was right behind them. When he started making obscene signs with his hands Sakura felt herself flush from head to toe, but the murderous glint in her eyes was apparently enough to stop Naruto’s crudeness.
“Eh, Sasuke-kun, what do you mean?”, she asked hesitantly, her hand raising and resting on Sasuke’s back in a sense of comfort. The soft material of his black shirt damp against her palm.
They were almost approaching the stage of hugging right in front of everybody.
Before they could complete the hug though, Sasuke’s head turned to the left, his cheek almost brushing against Sakura’s. The pink haired girl shyly turned her head slightly towards his direction, their faces almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the effect he still had on her and damn him if he he did not thrive on it.
He could think of all the nice things he could say to her, now it was the perfect time to take a step closer to approaching the inevitable connection they have. But his mind had other plans when the words slipped out of his mouth. In a teasing manner he was only capable of, he smirked and said, “More annoying than ever.”
He was sure she must have caught on his teasing by now. Using bitter words of the past to heal their wounds by putting another meaning to it. She was a smart woman and she could understand his actions better than anyone.
Sasuke knew she had caught on when he felt her fist punch lightly his stomach as if to punish him for insulting her.
“That is not a very nice way of complimenting someone, Sasuke-kun,” she whispered angrily, facing him completely. Any traces of wonder were gone from her emerald eyes replaced with mirth and she continued, smiling menacingly at him, “I thought I taught you better than that.”
“Hm,” Sasuke hummed in response and stood straight once again, looking down at her.
By now they had become a spectacle to their friends, the black haired male could feel Naruto almost bristling with excitement from behind him and he was not about to disappoint his friend who has been pestering him to get on with his feelings already.
“I guess we should spend more time together so I can get better at it.”
The double meaning behind his words was evident.
Sasuke Uchiha then patted Sakura Haruno’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world to do and smiled down at her gently.
His female teammate took a big breath through her nose, rosy cheeks glowing, and crossed her arms across her chest. She had him where she wanted him.
“Damn right we should!”
That was one week ago from her current position at the Hokage office. Just when she was making a great progress with seducing Sasuke, she has to go and approach another man for a mission. Talk about making matters weird between them. The worst part is the fact that she has to tell him. She wonders what his reaction is going to be considering they are not together yet. Is he going to act jealous or indifferent?
Who is she kidding? He is just going to glare her with this stupid scary look he gives in assassination missions to terrify people off the moment the words come out of her mouth and that is it.
“I haven’t finished yet,” Tsunade literally saw the thoughts displayed across Sakura’s face. It is like her life passed before her eyes, and her skin got a tad paler.
“Of course there is more,” the pink haired girl mumbles sadly while looking down, but the Hokage lets it slide.
“You will have back-up,” Tsunade says and sees with the corner of her eye Sakura sucking in a breath, “the rest of Team 7 will be with you,” and then next thing she knows the girl is chocking on air.
“W-what?” Sakura coughed out, giving her teacher a desperate look.
She feels like she is the center of the world and it is slowly closing up on her. Life suddenly looks less appealing, because good old Team 7 is back on track again with Sakura’s first seduction mission as a head start.
“Tsunade-sama, please tell me you are joking.” The pink haired medic grabs the sides of the armchair and hopes it does not break and crumble along with her composure.
The young woman also hopes her teacher is having some kind of twisted pleasure out of this because she is certainly not feeling happy with the news.
Tsunade wants to reprimand her student for losing her temper, but she understands what the girl is going through and also knows she in no better position to talk when it comes to matters like this. Still though, ears and eyes are everywhere and they must keep a low profile when in the Hokage’s office.
“Sakura,” The curvy female looks at her seriously, “Team 7 will be the back-up of this mission and that’s final.”
I am doing it for your sake, Tsunade wants to say but keeps quiet instead.
Somehow, Sakura understands where her teacher is coming from. This will be a test for both sides. It is a test for her that is for sure. A test for patience, a test for her relationship, a test for her seduction abilities both on the target and Sasuke, because let’s be honest, who is going to calm down the last Uchiha other than her?
Sakura closes her eyes, takes a calming breath through her mouth and then controls the pattern as taught by Ino’s yoga lessons. She could do it this.
The young female opens her pretty green eyes once again and then stares at Tsunade straight in eye, a determined expression on her face. The will of fire is practically seeping through her and her fiery temper is burning up again but for another cause.
“That’s the spirit,” Tsunade says proudly and hands her the scroll that has been lying on the wooden desk the whole time. “This is your target, Misty Jade.”
The first thing Sakura does when she steps into the house is to check for a specific chakra signature around the area. Sasuke pays frequent visits to her house nowadays you would think he lived in there, having keys and all, but alas.
She lets out a long sigh of relief, glad that she did not detect Sasuke’s compelling presence. Thank heavens, cost is clear. The twenty year old girl suspects that the males of Team 7 had already been called to Tsunade’s office, the second she was out of the vicinity. She mentally praises her teacher and then she decides to prepare for battle. The kunoichi briefly wonders how the hell she is supposed to deal with this. She has no clue how to handle this.
Sakura runs upstairs, heading straight to the bedroom. She slams the door open, scroll still in hand, and starts rummaging through her things in order to pack. After a few minutes of checking everything, she put all the necessary items in her mission bag. From medical supplies to energy pills to scrolls to clothes to a sleeping bag and lastly to the money she will need for the seduction necessities she has to buy. Finally finished, she sits down on the bed, crumpling the blue silky sheets in the process. Then, Sakura unrolls the scroll and reads.
Mission #B039 Type: B-rank Specialist: F (female)
Stage: Pre Place: Village hidden in the Waterfalls
Target: Misao Takashi
Gender: Male
Age: 25 years old
Characteristics: Red hair, blue eyes and relatively tall.
Efficiency: Messenger
Information: Misao Takashi is an important messenger between two feud lords that control and lead illegal product transportations. Your mission is to seduce said messenger that has in his possession a folder with contract papers which contain info for the next meet up and also a pair of keys. This is the part one of the main ANBU mission that will follow after you succeed. Mission includes back-up. Good luck.
The kunoichi falls back on the bed with a flop, thinking how she should approach the mission. She idly scratches her scalp and tosses her body around from side to side, her long pink locks sprawled across the bed sheets moving along with her. Sakura knows what the village hidden in the Waterfalls is known for. And if her guesses are right, a guy like him would go to a special kind of place. The men of Team 7 will also go there.
“This is just great!” Sakura shouts even though no one is in the room.
She stares up at ceiling, her mind thinking of all the possibilities and scenarios. The pink haired girl knows what to do to succeed in this mission, however hiding from Sasuke is the main problem.
With huff she stands up and starts pacing around the room while babbling nonsense and muttering profanities out loud, until the idea hits her.
“Of course,” Sakura jumps on the bed, “Tsunade-shishou is the solution!”
She lies down, calm once again, and grabs a nearby pillow, squeezing it close to her chest. The warmth it provides calms her for a second, but she resists the urge to snuggle it closer. The girl can already imagine the Uchiha’s frown when she will tell him that she will be staying at Tsunade’s for a few days in order to work on some papers that have to do with the hospital.
Sakura just hopes he will believe it for her sake and for the sake of this mission.
❤︎
“It’s dirty and disgusting in here,” Sasuke mutters angrily, sitting uncomfortably on the animal print armchair, “Why do we even have to do this?”
The hot pink, soft and furry material irritates him even more as his elbow barely glides on it, making it difficult for him to nurse his drink. It is too warm, too velvety.
The last Uchiha almost growls out of sheer annoyance. This mission is far too low for his standards. He cannot believe he allowed himself to be dragged in here. His pride is hurt goddammit. Yes, he may be a man, but he has never set foot in a pleasure house. Or as his best friend and ex-sensei like to call it: a strip club.
The atmosphere is suffocating him, the lights are too dim. All kinds of different and hypnotizing aromas assault his senses, making his clear mind drunk and hazy. He cannot tell if it is his alcoholic beverage that is making him feel this way or it is the misty cloud of seduction and pleasure filled nights that surround this place.
The men of Team 7 have been assigned on a mission just yesterday as a backup to an ANBU specialist. Sasuke was definitely not pleased with the news, but he could not go against the fifth Hokage’s orders as much he wanted to, so he mildly complained until he was shushed by Tsunade. So, here they are today, in the place that their target and the other shinobi are supposed to be. Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki and Kakashi Hatake, being expert ninjas, have already detected the target sitting in the middle of the area, near the front. And now they have to wait. If something goes wrong, only then they are allowed to interfere.
“Focus, Sasuke.” Kakashi says calmly, a white hospital mask covering his face instead of his usual ninja attire. “A mission is a mission.”
The grey haired shinobi is collected as always, and Sasuke cannot help but scowl.
As if the ridiculous place is not enough problems, they were also forced to wear formal clothes. Supposedly, they are ordinary men looking for some fun and not ninjas who are capable of killing anyone in the room within seconds. Thus, the men of Team 7 have to make it believable by dressing up fancily to blend in with crowd and to stay undistinguished.
“Well, it’s not that bad in here.” Naruto tells them with a foxy grin on his face, clearly excited to be in a place like this. A slight blush is covering his cheeks since he has been consuming a few portions of alcohol for an hour now. The blond is pleasantly tipsy and happier than usual.
“Shut up Naruto,” Sasuke turns to his left and addresses his best friend, “If Hinata found out you’re here, she would dump you.”
Sasuke is very irritated, and that results to more insults and jibs than normal. He crosses his legs, right ankle meeting left knee, just to move and do something out of spite.
“T-That’s not true!” The man immediately tries to explain, “I told her it was a mission and she was okay with it!”
Naruto’s face visibly falls, and he looks at Sasuke with his puppy dog eyes. However, before the blonde could set off, being an emotional drunk and all, Sasuke just looks at other side, ready to ignore the impending whining.
Is he even allowed to be drinking on such mission? Kakashi better do something, Sasuke thinks, complaining inside his head instead.
“Don’t fight.” Their teacher interrupts, knowing how those two are and how bad they can get when Sakura is not around to stop them.
He has even given them just enough freedom, permitting them to drink, because he knows they are the back-up of this mission and not the main person. Kakashi strongly believes that intervention will not be needed, considering this an efficient ANBU specialist sent by the Hokage herself.
So, Kakashi just sits relaxed, waits and enjoys the show.
The oldest member of Team 7 is wearing a dark grey button-up shirt, the collar slightly open and a pair of black trousers. Naruto has a similar style, except he sports a nice pair of jeans with a light blue button-up shirt that makes his gorgeous eyes stand out more. Sasuke opts for a more classic style though, completing his look with black trousers, a white button-up shirt (with the first button undone) and an onyx suit jacket to top it off.
It is an extraordinary night today since the place is filled to the brim with men of all ages and from different villages, plus, the interior design of the club is full of pretty decorations. As the shining neon letters say outside on the wooden board above the club’s name, Hustler’s Ho, it promises a night of busty tricks and naughty chicks, and of course a special guest. Sasuke didn’t pay attention to the name, it is useless information anyways.
The waitresses are all beautiful women holding silver trays with glitter and fruity scented oils applied on their bodies and every time they move under the low dimmed lights to serve the customers, their smooth skins sparkle teasingly. The atmosphere is thick with cigarette smoke, but despite that, the room somehow smells good because of the enticing scents that come off from all the perfume the females of the club have put on.
Red velvet curtains hang from the ceiling at the left side of the club and make up for entrances to the changing rooms, while the bar and the bathrooms are at the right side of it. In the center of the room is the stage where the lights shine the most since the ceiling has a lot of spotlights in all kinds of colors there. The rest of the huge area is only provided with low dimmed lights and that makes the dancers at the stage stand out more. The walls are painted a dark pink color and it gives the room a sense of obscurity and raw sexuality.
Great amount of money gets thrown at the stage as the ladies entertain the crowd with their dancing skills either on the poles or on the floor. Excited shouts of more can be heard even from where the members of Team 7 are seated at the back of the club. The dancers are barely dressed in Sasuke’s opinion; too much skin is bared for the eyes to feast. He averts his eyes, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
A dark blonde girl is currently dancing, her back turned to the pole, her hands up in the air touching the steel above her head. She is moving her lower half sexily in fluid left and right motions, her hips rolling expertly. The girl is wearing purple lingerie with her hair up in a high ponytail, and money is stuck in all kind of places from the men who put it there. She keeps it professional, but her face still expresses the hidden erotic feelings she wants to convey.
Then, all of a sudden, the music slowly quiets down and a deep male voice comes from the speakers. “Thank you dear, you were amazing as always! Please, grab your money and clear the stage.”
Sasuke silently scoffs and rolls his eyes at this. He should really stop drinking, the alcohol is making him show his irritation and that is not a good thing when on a mission. He has to keep his face impassive, bring forth a cold facade. Especially when in that said mission, Sakura is not there to calm him down and Naruto only breathes to make it worse for him with his antics. Of course, Kakashi is nonchalant as always.
The crowd gets almost completely silent, only a few murmurs can be heard now, and the unknown voice continues. “Only today, we have a special guest dancing…”
Without warning, a swift sound gains the attention of everyone inside the room. It is a whoosh of air fluttering against hard yet soft and velvet material that signals that the curtains have just been opened. The whispers get a tad bit louder at this, but get lost when the raspy voice resonates through the room once again. “Now, gentlemen, prepare to meet tonight’s special guest, a beauty and an exotic flower among the ladies…”
The sound came from the left side of the club, near the back. Heels clanking against the floor in a steady rhythm and elegant manner are the only thing that can be heard. The steps are light and slow paced. It has a nice ring to it, the continuous clicking is pleasant to the ears and everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. The males of Team 7 hear loud gasps, watching as men are getting blown away by the mere sight of this special guest. Heads are turned, all the attention clearly diverted behind. The pace has a unique air of confidence that no one can quite put their finger on. The woman has a stealthy and powerful walking. A soft tune starts playing as an intro while the woman comes closer and closer to the stage.
The dancer narrows the distance between her and the stage as she takes painfully slow steps towards it or so it seems to the eager men. The shadow that still hovers near the area where Team 7 is –thanks to the somber and tricky lighting– hides her, until finally, a curvy form starts to appear as she comes forth to where the light is. Her silver, almost dark gray, stilettos are the first things that show. A few agonizingly and torturous seconds later, long legs and fair smooth skin come into view.
Naruto reacts first, an exclamation leaving his lips. It is not a sharp inhalation of amazement, but it is a loud gasp of shock. His blue eyes widen and there are hazy no more. Cold sweat forms on his forehead, and he is feeling like someone threw cold water on him to wake him up and bring him back to the harsh reality. It is definitely not an easy feat to astound the ninja who is known as the best at surprising people.
The voice resonates through the room once again and the male starts praising the newcomer dancer, “An exotic babe, outstanding with high class skills.” The announcement is over, and the music gets steadily louder while the special guest is one step away from the stage.
She just stands still with her back on the cheering crowd for a few seconds as if to bewitch the already elated men with her beauty. The young woman is posing sensually and it compliments her already perfect body. She is captivating in every sense. Her legs are long and toned while her tights are voluptuous and her rear is curvy. Her waist is slight bent and it makes her behind stand out even more. Her back sparkles teasingly thanks to the glittery substance that has been applied on her skin everywhere on her body. She lifts her left hand up to course it through her silky long locks while her right one is resting on her inner tight in a provocative pose.
That unmistakable pink hair belongs only to one person.
Kakashi feels his mouth hanging open inside his mask. This event took a very fast turn for the worst and he does not like the ending result at all. She is the last person he could think of going up there if you had asked him about it. He closes his eyes and hums quietly awaiting for the impeding doom waiting to happen.
Sasuke reacts not a second too late and his breath hitches. A flash of light blinds him and he blinks his eyes twice in response. The lighting must be playing tricks on him, because there is no fucking way this is Sakura ready to go up there. He freezes and his face goes rigid. His calculating yet beautiful onyx eyes widen and his naturally pouty lips part slightly in shock. A wave of cool air passes by him –probably someone activated a fan to create more special effects for such a unique guest– and it makes his soft black hair flutter in the wind. An intoxicating scent fills his senses and clouds every ounce of rationality within him.
The special guest goes up the stage, turns around and Sasuke can breathe no more.
“Please welcome, Misty Jade!”
Sasuke Uchiha, for the first time in years, sees red.
#sasusaku#sakura haruno#sasuke uchiha#ssfanfiction#ssfanfic#ssfic#sasusaku fanfiction#depending on the response i am going to get i am going to post the next chapter#this is a tease fic yall#my baby strawberrycreampiefluff is the bessst#my first after yeaaaars boi#yes i am 4everxd#vasoula writes
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Gingerbread Kisses
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Rating: T
Paring: Elizabeth x Meliodas
Word Count : 1788
Warnings: Language, Suggestive themes
Summary: What had started out as fun Christmas baking turns into something a little more spicy when hands begin to wander.
A Christmas Special! Gratuitous domestic fluff for that warm cozy feeling~
Ao3 Link: 📖
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When he walks into the apartment, the first thing he notices is his normally bleak and unloved kitchen now decorated with random Christmas knick knacks and other themed kitchen paraphernalia. From nesting bowls shaped as Santa and his reindeer to measuring cups painted with red and white peppermint stripes; the sight was both sickening and endearing. Christmas seemed to lose a little bit it's magic with each passing year, but the colorful lights and whimsy of it all always put a smile on his face.
Now Christmas things on Christmas eve were normal.
But the next peculiar thing —that most definitely wasn't there when he left—was the overstuffed bag on their kitchen table.
As Meliodas toes off his boots, curiosity gets the best of him and he decides that getting the tiniest peek should be fine. He stalks his way towards his tiny kitchen and dips a finger into the bag—
"Ah ah ah, no touching. I need those for tonight."
Meliodas smiles and turns to his girlfriend with a raised eyebrow. Elizabeth is looking awfully cute and comfy in one of his hoodies and her seasonal fuzzy fleece leggings. He lets his eyes linger a bit longer, mentally debating if she’s wearing anything else underneath, before speaking.
"And what exactly are you making here?"
"Gingerbread!" Elizabeth exclaimed, then happily leapt into Meliodas' arms to nuzzle against him. They pull together like magnets and immediately fit together like it's second nature. His head tucked beneath her chin and his body snuggled against her in a warm, full-bodied embrace. Her smell—warm and sweet like amber vanilla with a touch of honey—floods his senses and immediately he feels at peace.
Truth be told, her hugs are his favorite part about coming home.
"Mmm, you're so cold. You knew it was going to be freezing and you still didn't take a jacket."
"Your love keeps me warm." He cheekily replies and brings her hands up to give each of her palms a tender little kiss.
Elizabeth rolls her eyes, but despite herself she smiles. "You just want an excuse to get all handsy."
"Like I need an excuse." Meliodas scoffs in mock offense, "You're so soft. So warm. I'm absolutely freezing, save me Ellie." He gives her rear a firm squeeze and she blushes hard. Meliodas snickers at her highly entertaining reaction, but she only cutely pouts and huffs at him.
"We have all the time in the world for that later," Elizabeth promises, "Right now I need to focus on these cookies. Can you start the prep? I need to change into something that's easier to move in."
Cooking definitely isn't his strong suit, but he'd get it done—for her. Maybe if he were lucky he could even sneak in a few flirty innuendos or track white flour handprints all over her clothes afterwards.
"Sure thing." Meliodas grinned wickedly and pulled away; not before giving her bottom a swift pat while she walked away because, well, damn that ass though.
---
Meliodas could not get it done.
He tried, he really did. It had started out fine enough when he got out the hand mixer, it’s only when the ingredients got involved did things get messy.
"You're a child." Elizabeth scolds while using a wet rag to wipe away the sticky molasses dripping down his cheek.
"No, I'm a baby—your baby." Meliodas corrects, daring out his tongue to graze her fingertips and laughs when she squeals.
“All you had to do was cream them together...Oh gosh—How did it get in your hair?”
"Talent," he confidently states, "Just in the other direction."
It had only taken her a couple of minutes to tie up her hair and change into a tank top and shorts, but he still somehow managed to make a mess of everything.
Elizabeth sighed, but a warm smile followed soon after. "It's fine. Baking will be much more fun with the two of us anyways."
While Elizabeth cleaned up the dishes, Meliodas went to work mopping up the floor and wiping down the counters.
After that was finished the two began to start over from scratch.
Elizabeth tended to mix up the ingredients and Meliodas always overexerted the simplest tasks, but somehow it had worked to their advantage. He'd point out that she'd pulled out the salt instead of the sugar and she'd step in whenever he was being too forceful with the dough. Though both of them were bad cooks on their own, they were able to compensate for one another's weaknesses.
As a result, they managed to cobble together a 4x3 row of gingerbread piggies (she had insisted that these cookie cutters were much cuter and he strongly agreed).
"Into the oven they go." Elizabeth said, pleased, "I can't wait to decorate them!"
Meliodas pressed behind her with his arms wrapped around his waist and tiptoed to peer over her shoulder. He's surprised the thing even managed to heat up. His oven was actually quite old, but it was still apparently serviceable. Quite frankly he's never touched it much due to his abysmal skills in the culinary arts, but he's survived just fine on ramen noodles and hot pockets.
His lips brushed against her bare shoulder as he spoke, "How long do they bake for again?"
Elizabeth slightly leans into his embrace and ponders for a moment, "The recipe said around ten to fifteen minutes."
His fingers dip beneath the hem of her shirt and absentmindedly brush against the skin there. “So...what? We just watch the oven the entire time? I could think of a better way we can spend those fifteen minutes.”
Elizabeth snorts in amusement, "Baking cookies turns you on?"
Meliodas chuckles and buries his laughter into her shoulder, "No, but these buns do." He swings his elbows back and unceremoniously grabs a handful of her butt with a cheeky smile.
She squeaks and spins around to face him. “I-I said we’d have time for that later!”
He dips his chin between her cleavage and nuzzles his cheek against a plush breast. “Isn’t it later now?” He inquires with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and grin.
But the anxious bite of her bottom lip has his heart beating fast. It's only when he sees the faint pink dusting the bridge of her nose and cheeks that he knows for sure.
Suddenly there was silence.
Both of them staring and searching, testing the other, gauging to see who’d make the first move. Though no words were being exchanged, the intensity of the atmosphere felt too strong to be ignored.
Meliodas is searching her blue eyes and desperately trying to read the unspoken language beneath them. Even if words aren’t spoken, his heart can clearly decipher the message.
In that moment, with his pulse racing and jitters running up his spine, he just knew he had to do something.
Especially when she calls out to him in the softest, most endearing little voice. “Meliodas.”
That’s when he remembers that Elizabeth has this special type of magic.
At least he thinks she does.
She has to because it’s like she has his mind in a trance. He knows for a fact that the moment only lasted a few seconds, but when she closes her eyes and leans in it feels like an eternity.
Inhale.
Elizabeth nervously licks her lips before her eyelashes flutter close.
Exhale.
She brings her right hand up to tuck the stray hair falling past her cheeks while she slowly descends closer to him.
Inhale.
Finally, the tension sweetly releases when her lips gently press against his. It’s like a breath of fresh air—soft and subtle like a tender breeze.
And then the world shifts,
His vision blurs,
Rational thought evaporates from his mind, bit by bit, until reality escapes him all in a rush.
And all he can think is just
Elizabeth.
Somehow her kiss just makes him feel like he matters—like he’s the only thing that matters most in the world.
Elizabeth gently brushes her hand along the nape of his neck, tickling the bits of hair there, and he’s hypersensitive to it all. There’s a little bit of pressure against his neck, her fingers coaxing him into returning the affection with little encouraging rubs, and immediately it pulls him under.
His body moves before he can even think. His own hands find their way to the dip of her back to pull her closer until he feels her curves superimposed against him. Meliodas desperately slants his mouth over hers while shifting his head the tiniest bit with every kiss. Soft, wet smacks of skin against skin spurs him on into sliding his tongue along her bottom lip—silently asking for permission.
Elizabeth eagerly follows suit and the next few minutes after that were a blur.
Slender fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. His own hands sliding across her heated skin.
All he can think of is soft.
So soft, so soft...every part of Elizabeth is so warm and fluffy and he's desperate to feel more of her.
Meliodas grabs her by the waist, gently directing her back more and more—both of them awkwardly stumbling, refusing to part from one another—until she's pressed against the cabinets. He's rolling his hips into hers and relishes the gasp he feels against his mouth. Her breath is hot and uneven as she grinds with equal fervor, haphazardly clutching at whatever her hands can grip onto.
Meliodas tightly hugs her against his body to keep her from falling back, wrapping his arms around her waist in an attempt to close the space between them as much as possible. His fingers slip through her silky hair, letting it down from it's ponytail, and he groans when Elizabeth's fingers dig into his hair to deepen their kiss.
His body is burning up and the feeling is molten hot coursing through his veins. He’s practically shaking from the ferocity of it all. The heat is quickly searing away what little cogent thoughts he has left and he swears he could smell—
Meliodas' eyes go wide. The thick, pungent smell of smoke jolts him alert, but Elizabeth is quicker than him to realize what happened.
She prys herself out of his tender embrace and fumbles her way over to the oven with a worried string of curses.
“Ellie! Are you okay? Was that the—Oooh…well shit.”
Elizabeth sulks while pulling out the tray of charcoaled sugar, gives them a sad look over, then sets them aside to cool.
“So, uh, the cookies burned?”
“The cookies burned.” She affirms with a heavy sigh.
“Well…” Meliodas scratches his head with a sheepish smile, “We always have been bad at cooking.”
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best friends greens mutual pining roommates in college told in Butches POV?? it’s a lot of stuff in one post but i think you’re the only author i know who could pull it off (besides SBJ)
Pairing: Butch x Buttercup (Greens)
I-I don’t even know what to say. I really feel like i shouldn’t be compared to such a queen. But thank you. I hope this does your prompt justice and i love nothing more than a flustered Butch. Imma say this is rated like T to M just for the mention of certain topics. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for the ask!
Ask/Requests always open
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College was suppose to be fun. It was suppose to be full of random parties, random booze, random drugs and most importantly, random girls that he didn’t need to know the names of.
What is wasn’t suppose to be was ice cold showers and massive headaches as he tried to drown the feelings that were arising. Random thoughts that he should be having about random girls should not belong to his roommate. No he really shouldn’t be thinking about how soft her skin would feel against his as she disappeared into her bedroom with a random guy.
He thought it would be easy and chill to live with Buttercup and at the beginning it was. They were best friends of course and they got along like two peas in a pod. Scary movies, frozen meals and cheap beer was how the spent their nights together.
Jerking off to the thought of her was how he spent his nights alone, and he hated it.
You weren’t suppose to fall in love with your best friend. Every one who says they married their best friend is a liar in his book, at least thats what he told himself every night. All he wanted to do was forget about these feelings because he didn’t want to ruin what they had.
Of course it was easier said then done when she decided a long band t shirt and booty shorts was her usual studying attire and sometimes they would lounge in their underwear because what else to bffs do?. She would sit next to him until their shoulders touched and more than once, it felt like they were a domestic married couple living in a one bedroom apartment than two homies making it through college.
They would sometimes cook together and have study sessions. That was all normal stuff. What wasn’t normal was whispering her name praying that the random girl underneath him didn’t notice.
They had been best friends since middle school and he valued their relationship more than anything but those feelings had shifted in high school and he never got to chance, or had the balls, to tell her.
Every time he thought he was ready, she would end up tell him about a boy on the football team or baseball and he would sit there and nod. He would be there to support her time after time. Break up after break up, he was there for her tears even when his heart was ripping to shreds every single time.
But he couldn’t lose the only person who understood him on his level. He liked to punch and fight and get messy and she was right there along side him. Who else could keep up with him? Her but if it meant looking at as only a friend, then he could do so, even if it killed him on the inside.
He thought that living together would erase the emotions but they only made them stronger. His fist would clench together until his nails would dig into his palms and threaten to break the skin. His jaw tighten and the door would slam as he left every time she had someone over.
Butch couldn't be mad, he also occupied his time with random girls who were pretty and air heads at best, mostly sorority because flings were like crack to them. But even in the heat of those moments, he wished it was her. Sure the girls were hot but something about Buttercup made his heart clench.
Her presence was that of a firework. Explosive and bright and if you were lucky, got to see it light up constantly and he was taken back every time. She was her own type of beauty, no one could compare. Even with blood dripping down her knuckles as she snarled at the monster before her, she was everything he had ever wanted. A bad ass girl who wasn’t afraid of anything, except for clowns, she hated clowns.
She could be intimidating and he would laugh at the guys who would try to get with her for more than a fling and fail miserably. Even if he wasn’t the one to be in her bed, he was still miles ahead of every one. She knew that too.
And right now, he was losing it.
A simple night. The scary movie was playing, one that they had seen a hundred times before and a box of pizza that only had a few slices left. She was on one side of the couch with one foot on his leg and the other dangling off the side while his leg was propped up and the other resting while hers was on it. His elbow was on the arm rest and from the corner of his eyes he could see her blankly staring at the screen.
She wasn’t even dressed up. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and just an over sized shirt and yet he thought she looked gorgeous.
he couldn’t explain how he felt. She was a magnet or a bright flame and he was a moth ready to be burned by the light.
He sat there watching the screen. His heartbeat thumping in his chest heavily and he hate, absolute hated that she had super hearing too.
“You that scared pussy?” She said without even looking at him and he swallowed hard before grabbing his water.
He only had about a month left before winter break and then he could room with someone else, it would be better for both of them. He loved rooming with her but these feelings would only drive him crazy and it wan’t fair for her to live with him having these thoughts. Fuck she looked hot.
“Yeah.” He lied and coughed dryly.
She paused the tv and finally looked at him. “You okay?”
She always saw through his bullshit and it was one of the many things he admired about her, expect for this moment.
He rolled his eyes playfully trying to mask the redness in his face. “Just worried about an upcoming test, basic college shit ya know.”
He only heard her hum before her foot moved from the spot on his leg and he was thankful for a second.
“You’ve seemed on edge lately.” Her voice was soft and he turned to face her not knowing that she had moved and his nose almost hit hers. “And I don’t think its about a test.” No shit sherlock. Maybe its because the hottest girl in the world was hovering just inches from him and he wanted to do nothing more than kiss her, but he couldn’t
Hie eyes widened at the close proximity and he thought he was gonna die. She batted her eyelashes at him and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“Just about school.” Another lie and he could smell the crisp apple perfume she was wearing. Why was she so close?
She sat on her heels and looked at him. He was trying not to lose it.
“Can I ask you something?” She said and he nodded.
“Yeah.”
And now she looked nervous. She paused and opened her mouth before closing it again. He knew that look. It was the determining what to do next look and she only did that with him. And funny enough it was always after a break up.
In high school they would sit in a parking lot or on the school roof tops. She would finishing cussing out the guy and even wiping her tears and then give him this look.
“Why are guys such ass hole?” She would say and he would only shrug before slinking his arm over her shoulder and hugging him close.
“Relax BC, you’ll find someone.” Like me he would want to say every time but he never did.
Her eyes would be wide and even after crying you could see the individual flecks of neon green mixed with various shades and if the light hit them just right, he swore he could see gold.
Her eyes matched those right now as she thought about her next words. The light coming through the blind bounced off them and even if he was a few inches away, those gold flecks were there.
“Never mind.” She whispered, she did that on the roof tops too. He could see it now.
How was he blind before? The looks and the pink to her cheeks. The way she walked and talked around him was much more delicate than those random guys. He placed his hand on her leg, rubbing circles with his thumb.
Neither of them had been with a fling for about a month now. He was getting bored of everyone else and maybe she was too. The feeling of doubt that he had every time this would happen was in him now.
But she was a blazing bonfire and he was a moth that was so close to light, he didn’t care if he got burned to a crisp.
“Come Buttercup, tell me.” He pleaded and he hope and prayed, even begged to the gods that the look she was wearing was the sign he was looking for.
She looked at his hand and relaxed before those tears formed on her waterline. Everyone said Bubbles was the cry baby but she wasn’t afraid to let the tears fall. She shook her head and cracked a smile. Their noses now touched and her lip quivered as her hand touched his face.
She looked terrified and he was too as she inched closer and closer, their lips practically brushing together. “I don’t want you to regret it.”
“I couldn’t, not after all this time. I’ve been yours since the start.” He whispered and her lips fell to his.
He felt the firework go off. It was blinding and brighter than ever. He now understood when people said that you’ll see the stars when you kiss the one for you. And right now he was seeing the fucking universe.
He wasted no time falling into the kiss. All those random thoughts and girls had evaporated in a flash as he tugged her into his lap and kissed her senselessly. He hated whenever she talked about other guys but the wait was worth it as she was finally kissing him.
Her lips were soft and plush just like he dreamed they would be.
Their mouths moved as if two puzzle pieces finally formed together after searching for their missing half. His hand went to rest on her ass and she pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. He let out a growl as she playfully bit his lip and pulled away, gasping for air.
“T-those fucking shorts, you f-fucking tease.” He breathed out.
“T-took you long enough you dumb ass.” She wasn’t wearing all this tight clothing just for the sake of it, no he was convinced that she was the evil one now.
“How was I suppose to know?”
“Just shut up and kiss me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice as he picked her up and carried her off to his room. Something he thought would only happen in those cold shower dreams of his.
College is fun. Its full of random young adults getting drunk at parties and taking shots of whatever they could find, loud ass music and most importantly, finding out that the person you’ve had the hots for since the 8th grade also liked you back. He was just thankfully that none of his showers had to be ice cold any more.
He now learned that you could in fact marry your best friend and kicked himself for ever thinking he couldn’t.
---
I hope this was okay!!! :)
#greens#butch x buttercup#butchercup#butchercup fic#ppg#powerpuff girls fan fic#the powerpuff girl#thewritingstar
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