nya

love rots just as quickly as it blooms. reblogger for asoiaf and other fandoms. 9teen. my main's @laedeviour

[imeow33]

.✦ ݁DARLING UNCLE!

⋆˙⟡older!aerion targaryen x niece!reader

SUMMARY, you and your uncle, aerion, are very close, some might even say a bit too close.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS, nsfw, innocent reader, very suggestive, making out, lots of touching, age gap, aerion is in his late 20s/early 30s, targcest, uncle x niece, manipulation, dark themes, just a little short fic before the next episode of akotsk <3

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

⭒ uncle!aerion, whose hand would always linger for far longer than appropriate.

⭒ uncle!aerion, whose eyes would follow you everywhere like a moth drawn to the light.

⭒ uncle!aerion, whose actions would leave you tossing and turning all night, wondering whether or not your close relationship has blossomed into something more… intimate.

You and your uncle have always been awfully close, your bond going beyond what most would consider normal. Despite your family’s warnings to keep your distance from him, claiming he was ‘mad’, you felt he was misunderstood.

At first, Aerion wasn’t particularly pleased about you following him around like a shadow, but when he learned that you, too, were just as interested in dragons as he was, everything changed. Soon enough, the pair of you found comfort in each other. Where he lacked generosity, you lacked the courage to stand up for yourself and so, you made a surprisingly fine match.

Though your father was visibly concerned about your ‘friendship’ with his unstable younger brother, he trusted your empathy and hoped that with age, you would come to realise the kind of man he was. Much to his dismay, you did not. If anything, your infatuation with your uncle had only deepened.

No one could understand what the realm’s delight and it’s mad Targaryen prince shared that made them so fond of each other. You were kind-natured, full of compassion while your uncle was — well, he was the complete opposite.

But opposites attract, right?

Temptation has a way of finding everyone, even the most obedient children have something or someone that draws them toward rebellion and for you, that had always been your uncle. As a child, you often found yourself sneaking off to meet him and the two of you would disappear into your own little world.

Now that you were a woman grown, your outings with your uncle didn’t consist of watching some lifeless play — no, it appeared that the more you matured, the more dangerous the places he took you to spend your time together in became. Aerion would often tell you that he’d ‘put a dragon in you one day’, making you giggle, unaware of the dark meaning behind his words, taking them for nothing more than jests. If only you knew.

“You see my darling niece, the rest of our family isn’t like us.” He explained as the two of you lay cuddled together, hands intertwined, in a tiny room of a brothel. “They aren’t dragons, they wouldn’t understand the bond we share.” He continued in a soft voice, gently tucking your silver hair behind your ear before leaning in to kiss your temple.

It made perfect sense, just like everything that your darling uncle has ever said made sense. Anytime you came to him with any concerns, he knew exactly what to say to ease your nerves and like the young, naive girl you were, you believed every word that came out of his mouth. No matter how bizarre it sounded, you would simply nod, glossy eyes filled with admiration. After all, who were you to question him, the dragon himself?

For now, Aerion’s touches still remained fairly innocent — gentle pecks on the lips from time to time, laying with his head against your plush breasts as you stroked his hair to sleep. That was until one day, everything changed and those small pecks turned into heated make outs with you straddling your uncle’s lap.

Of course, poor, innocent you couldn’t grasp just how intimate your actions were. Over the years, you had grown so accustomed to your uncle’s lingering hands on your body that this seemed like another one of your games. When you were younger, Aerion could suppress his desires for you — but now, that your body had matured into one of a woman, he found himself unable to continue to do so.

“Mhm!” You squealed as you felt something hard press against your lower thigh. Confused, you pulled away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. When you asked your uncle about what exactly that was, he only chuckled at your innocence, finding it the most adorable thing. Perhaps, if you hadn’t skipped so many lessons with your septa to sneak out with your uncle, you wouldn’t be in this position.

“You’ll learn soon enough, zaldrītsos (little dragon), hm?” He’d say. Despite your eagerness to know, you also knew better than to argue with him. He smiled at your obedience and cupped your rosy-tinted cheek with his large hand. Closed your eyes, you nuzzled into his touch, letting yourself forget about all of your responsibilities as a princess. Here, in your darling uncle’s arms, none of it mattered.

Maybe if Daeron had watched over his first-born daughter more carefully, if he had not been so quick to dismiss your closeness with your uncle, everything might have turned out differently. Maybe if had he paid closer attention, his younger brother would never have gotten his filthy hands on you — would never have groomed you into becoming his perfect little doll. His perfect little princess to carry his heirs.

But that was just a maybe.

Worst of all, you remained completely unaware. As you rested peacefully on your uncle’s bare chest, feeling safe, you were too blinded by your twisted idea of love to realise that safety was the last thing you should have felt.

── .✦

[nqarxne]

gotta pin this cuz this ate up sooo HARDD

[thedevotchka]

NSFW Alphabet - Willard Russell (The Devil All The Time)

MDNI, fic under the cut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Taking care of you is second nature for Willard. He’ll hold you until your breathing slows, and then he’ll clean you up himself, running his fingers over your muscles to see if he’s gone too hard. 

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Willard doesn’t like himself much, but you fell in love with his eyes so he’s grateful to them. He loves your hair, stroking it to send you off to sleep after he’s worn you out. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

All he thinks about is breeding you. About keeping you pregnant, over and over. So shooting his load, multiple loads even, into you and pushing the creamy slick back into you with his fingers sends him feral. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He watches you sleep. He’s been doing it forever, just to feel the settling of calm over him with every soft rise and fall of your chest. Sometimes when he’s sure you’re asleep he’ll slip his fingers up between your thighs and drag them lightly over your clit until you’re soaked and sticky. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

There was one girl, a local near where he was stationed who had a thing about deflowering soldiers. Willard had regretted it before she’d even gotten his pants off, but the other guys were waiting and he didn’t want them poking fun. He pretends he waited for you, because he so badly wishes he had. 

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Willard likes to breed you like an animal, watching your ass bounce against him as he impales you on his cock. But his favourite is a deep mating press, with your legs up by your cheeks and your pussy sucking greedily at every inch of him. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Willard can tease you a little when you’re so impatient and spoiled, but he isn’t goofy and he’ll stop if he thinks he’s upsetting you. His focus is always intense when he’s got you stripped down for him. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Willard doesn’t groom his pubic hair. That’s a weird concept, he wouldn’t waste a good razor on something like that when you like his face clean. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Willard struggles with intimacy, he’s just been through a lot and vulnerability doesn’t come easy to him. But he’s so insanely, hopelessly in love with you that he can’t help but hold you close, pressing his forehead to yours so he can absorb every breathy whisper of his name that passes your lips. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Willard is so hell bent on getting you pregnant that he doesn’t waste any of his cum on jacking off. But there was that week you went and to visit your mama, and you left him a soaked pair of your panties as a parting gift. He’d wrapped them around his cock every damn night, picturing how naughty you’d looked touching yourself to get them so filthy. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, breeding, breeding. Goddamn, Willard wants to put a baby in you so bad it consumes him. He can’t think about anything but filling you so full of cum that it leaks out of you for hours, and he’ll whisper filth into your ear while he does it. 

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

The forest, at night. There’s the thrill of the danger and how pretty you look in the moonlight, and the way the dirt sticks to your skin and makes you seem like some wild thing for him to tame. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The way you peel your clothes off a layer at a time as the day heats up. Stepping into the kitchen to find you flushed and slick as you wilt in the steam from the stove in just your underwear, sweat sticking your hair to your face. He can’t stop himself from pulling you against him, licking the salt from your skin until your protests turn to moans.  

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Williard won’t hurt you. He’ll press his palm to your throat in an act of possession or bend you over his knee for a spanking, but he just can’t be really, truly violent. He’s seen too much of that. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You’re so pretty on your knees for him. Willard feels a little like a God when you worship him, licking so sweetly at his tip and looking up with devotion in your eyes. 

But going down on you is the real sacrament. Willard will pin you down and feast for hours, tasting the sweetness of your arousal and the sharpness of your sweat even after a long day in the August heat. Especially then. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Willard mixes it up. Sometimes he’ll see you pushing your hair out of your face and fanning your pretty flushed skin and he’ll be powerless to stop himself bending you over the kitchen counter and taking you so roughly the dishes shake in the cabinet. 

But other times, when the night has cooled some and you’re soft and clinging to him, he’ll fuck you deep and slow, pulling back when he feels his release coming so he can prolong the experience. One time he did that over and over until the sun came up, and he suffered through a long shift with a smile on his face. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He works long hours, getting up before dawn and collapsing beside you after dark. Sometimes, especially when you’re fertile, a quickie is all he can manage. But he’ll always match it with a long session of taking care of you as soon as he has time. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Willard likes to take you out to the woods to commune with God. He likes to push you to your hands and knees on the forest floor and have you give thanks as he fucks you from behind. But if anybody ever saw you he’d have their eyes out, one for the violation and one for trespass. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Willard can go for hours. He’s used to denying himself even the most basic of pleasures, and no matter how much he wants to bury his seed inside you right away he won’t do it until you’ve come a good few times. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No. Willard doesn’t have any knowledge of or use for toys. Where would you even buy something like that without going into the city, anyway? But when it’s awful hot he’ll buy a box of ice and trail cubes over the feverish curves of you, licking the wet trails from your skin until you whimper. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases you all the time. You just look so pretty when you beg for it, your lips quivering as tears fill your eyes. God knows he’ll never deny you a damn thing, but he lets himself drag it out sometimes for moments like that. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Willard is a man of few words, and he grits his teeth against the sounds he wants to make when he’s inside you. Even though you’ve begged him to tell you how good it is, he just can’t. Blame it on his religious upbringing. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Willard likes it when you take control. He’s so big and he’s used to being the man of the house, so the few times where you’ve gotten impatient and aggressive and taken from him have been some of the best orgasms of his life. He wishes you’d do it more often. He wishes you’d use him. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He works a manual job and it shows, because Willard is broad and dark, his torso and arms rippling with muscle from hauling meat. His cock is huge, and sometimes he has to look away when you’re choking on it to stop himself from sobbing. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Willard Russell invented yearning. He can’t start a conversation without saying “my wife” and he knows with certainty that if you died he’d simply cease to exist. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The nightmares used to wake him every hour, sweating and sobbing as the ghosts of mutilated boys haunted him. But with you beside him, your warmth and the scent of your lingering arousal on the sheets beneath him, Willard’s been sleeping as good as he did before it all. 

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard @a-differentbrandof-beans @scarredsgard @chaniisaac

[thedevotchka]

Happy Birthday, Mr Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård x Reader)

Word Count: 2054

Warnings: NSFW, fluffy PiV sex

A/N: This was not a request from my WIP list *gasp, shock, horror* BUT it’s Bill’s birthday! Our boy is 36 and aging like fine wine, and whilst he would probably not appreciate smutty fanfic about himself as a birthday gift this day doesn’t just belong to him, damnit! So happy bill’s birthday to all of us :)

ALSO I wrote this fic in literally 30 minutes and proofread it only once before going to bed last night, so a thousand apologies if there are mistakes I missed!

MDNI, fic under the cut

It’s been a long day. There isn’t really a better way to describe it, and the weight of intrusive reporters and bright lights and holding a smile on his face has Bill’s shoulders slumping as he kicks his shoes off by the door to his hotel room.

He’s so tired. He’s so tired, and he’s so homesick, and he misses his person. He misses you so badly he can almost imagine you’re here, can almost smell your perfume lingering in the air and the warm, slightly fruity scent of the tea you’re always drinking at bedtime. There are few things that he wouldn’t do to be home beside you right now, actually.

He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up, running his fingers back through his hair to tease out some of the gel his stylist had applied that morning. He winces at his own reflection, the deep purplish bags under his eyes and the shadow already blooming across his jaw. What a way to spend his fucking birthday.

His phone buzzes in his jeans, and he pulls it out with a soft smile as he reads the message from you: Grattis på födelsedagen, älskling!

Your Swedish is improving every day, and Bill is beyond grateful that you’re learning it for him. He speaks perfect English, but ever since you’d agreed to move to Stockholm to be with him you’d immersed yourself in his culture and his friends and his family and now? Now he couldn’t imagine you not being by his side.

He’s about to shoot back a reply when he hears a sound from further inside his hotel room, and he freezes. Pocketing his phone he creeps silently into the main room, ready to… what? Startle the intruder? Fight them? What if it’s a fan who has followed him back from the EW studio? What if it was an autograph hunter? Bill swallows his anxiety as he rounds the corner, and all the fight simply drops out of him.

He hadn’t been imagining a damn thing. There you are, perched on the edge of his bed with two fizzing champagne flutes in your hands. The cork lies on the carpet between you and him, the culprit of the sound.

“Happy Birthday to you,” you sing, crossing one leg over the other and giving him a fantastic view of your bare thighs. “Happy birthday, to you,” you sing again, putting on a sultry, pouty voice and leaning forward to flash your perfect tits in the little white and red corset you’re wearing. Bill feels his cock stir at the sight of you, of the intense, hungry bedroom eyes you’re giving him. “Happy birthday, Mr. Pennywise.”

He rolls his eyes even as a blush heats his cheeks, and you finally rise from the bed, padding across the carpet and stopping just in front of him. “Happy birthday to you,” you finish on a note so low it’s almost a whisper, and Bill’s knees are actually fucking weak with how much he loves you in that moment. In every moment.

“How did you get in here?”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, because you know damn well his mouth is asking a practical question whilst his heart turns to mush. Endearingly, pragmatically Swedish.

“You should maybe buy your manager a bottle of scotch.”

Bill thinks about the smirk and the wink his manager had given him as he announced he was heading back to the room, and he shakes his head a little. “He’s a pervert.”

You bite the corner of your bottom lip, handing him a champagne flute. “You’re a pervert.”

Bill takes a sip and licks his lips, eyes dropping to where your breasts spill over the frilled edge of your corset. “This is new.”

Your corset is a slutty replica of his Pennywise suit, silvery-white silk with red pom-poms made of taffeta running down the center. If you wiggle your hips, little bells tying the matching panties together jingle. You wiggle for him, and Bill chuckles as he brings his free hand to rest on your hip and pull you closer.

“You thought I was gunna miss your birthday?”

He licks his bottom lip, lifting his eyes to yours and swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t have blamed you. I’m never signing on to do press in August again. Ever.”

You reach up on your tiptoes, finally connecting your lips with his after six long weeks apart. “Baby goes where contract says.”

“Baby does not.” He huffs, before pressing his mouth to yours more firmly and deepening the kiss with a light trail of his tongue against your bottom lip. You wrap your free arm around his neck, holding him close whilst you try to not spill champagne on the carpet.

Bill is less careful, dragging you against him firmly and knocking his own drink onto your ass to drip down the back of your legs. You squeal at the sudden cold, and he smiles against your mouth as he kisses you through the shock.

You pull away first, fixing him with a pout. “I’m soaked.”

He hums, hand sliding down over your damp ass to cup a handful of your flesh. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

He walks you carefully back towards the bed, taking your glass with one hand whilst he pushes you gently down onto the mattress with the other, and you part your legs automatically. Bill stands between them, staring down at the damp patch on the front of your panties and wondering how he got so goddamn lucky.

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

“It’s awkward.”

“It’s my birthday.”

You sigh, reaching a hand down to lightly rub yourself through your underwear. “Don’t you wanna unwrap your present, birthday boy?”

It doesn’t take more than that. Bill is on you in a second, fumbling with the ridiculous puffy pom-poms with a frustrated growl. You enjoy his shifting expressions of frustration for a moment before taking pity on him and revealing the hidden zipper underneath them. “Fucking genius.” He mutters as he yanks it down, your breasts practically bursting from their tight confines as you release the first proper exhale you’ve managed since you zipped yourself into the tightly boned garment. “There they are,” he coos, dipping his head to press a kiss to one nipple whilst cupping the other breast in his enormous hand. “My girls.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for his belt, and he flicks his tongue against your nipple in sharp little caresses as you drag his pants and boxers down. “There’s the little guy.”

Bill’s teeth graze against your nipple and you yelp as he lifts his head and glares. “Little? You wound me in this way on my birthday, älskling?”

“I’m sorry,” you coo, reaching for his cock and squeezing the stiffening length against your palm. “I’m being mean.”

Bill reaches down to hook his thumbs into your underwear and drags them down with a tinkle of bells, suppressing a moan at how slick and swollen your pussy is already. He’d like to take his time, to tease and edge you until you apologize properly, but he’s so, so desperate for you. His cock leaks sticky beads of precum, and he lowers over you and drags his tip through your folds, coating his length in your arousal. “You’re also being a liar.” He mumbles before pushing into you.

You gasp, the stretch bordering on uncomfortable after weeks of being apart. You’d had phone sex, but that had mostly involved your fingers or the hands-free vibrator Bill controlled with an app on his phone. You hadn’t had anything big inside you in six weeks, and Bill’s cock was big. “Shit,” you whisper.

Bill pulls back, his cock dragging half out as your muscles flutter around him. You’re a little tighter than he expected, and there’s a pinched look on your face that he absolutely does not like. “Too much?”

“Go slow.”

He bites his bottom lip as he pushes slowly back into you, ignoring his body as it demands he pound you into the mattress. The stretching burn changes slowly as you adjust to having him inside you, and it isn’t long before a dull pleasure begins to take its place. “Oh,” you moan. “Fuck, Bill. That’s it.”

Bill has never heard anything so beautiful in his goddamn life. He’s barely holding it together, he’s been desperate to come for what feels like hours whilst your perfect cunt tried to squeeze his orgasm out of him, but there was no way he was going to finish first.

“That feel good?” He whispers, jaw clenched tight as his thrusts become faster and he pushes a little deeper with each one.

You nod, mashing your bottom lip against your teeth as you reach between your legs to touch yourself. Bill knocks your fingers out of the way, pushing higher up onto his knees so he can watch you fall apart as he rubs your slick over your clit, circling the bud with just the right amount of pressure to make you whimper.

“Shit, Bill. Shit, I’m gunna come.”

“Yeah? Fuck, yeah. I wanna feel you come on my cock. C’mon, baby. You can do it.”

You whine as you come, your whole body locking up, your cunt locking him in as you flutter around him, and Bill couldn’t hold his own orgasm off if he tried. He spills inside you, hips bucking against you even though your body holds him prisoner inside you.

Your eyes lock onto his, pupils blown wide with lust and shock at the intensity of the feeling. With the way you’re squeezing around him you can feel everything; every spurt of his release and the throbbing of the vein on the underside of his cock and the ridge under his tip dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Fuuuuck,” he moans, unwilling to even blink so as not to miss a single micro-second of your beautiful, fuck-drunk face as you take his cock like you were made to do it.

Bill stays inside you for longer than is really comfortable, hovering over you on his elbows as he licks into your mouth and kisses you like you’re oxygen. Eventually your body starts to push him out, and he withdraws his softened cock with a little wince.

“I didn’t even bring you a birthday present.” You mutter, a stupid, pretty grin on your face as you stare up at the ceiling in your boyfriend’s hotel room.

Bill rolls onto his side, leaning in to press a kiss against your bare shoulder. “You are my birthday present. The best one I ever got.”

You hum happily, reaching for his arm and dragging it over your waist to settle as a comforting weight against your stomach.

“I really love you, you know.” You swallow thickly, your stomach flipping over with anxious butterflies. You’d said it before, and Bill had said it to you, too. But it felt different, your voice sounded different in the wake of you flying half-way across the world to be with him and in the aftermath of that sex. Bill lifts his hand from your stomach and cups your cheek, drawing your head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to your mouth.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my damn life.”

His eyes burn with the intensity of that love, and it’s the best moment of your life and it’s so charged you can’t stand it. “More than zyns?”

Bill huffs a laugh, leaning in and pecking your lips. “More than zyns.”

“More than black jeans and black tee-shirts?”

“Baby.”

“That isn’t a yes.”

He groans, rolling his eyes as he kisses you again. “I love you more than anyone or anything, inanimate or otherwise. Okay?”

You sigh, dropping your head back to the mattress with a smile. “Yeah, okay Bill.”

It’s so much easier to sleep with you in his arms, and Bill holds onto you like you’re a damned life raft in a storm. Tomorrow there will be more interviews, more press junkets, more stunts in and out of makeup. But if he gets to come back here to you? He’ll do it all with a smile on his face. You snore softly against his chest, and Bill closes his eyes. Happy Birthday Mr Pennywise, indeed.

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard @a-differentbrandof-beans @scarredsgard @chaniisaac @dontsmile83

[kamikhaos]

could you possibility do a Conrad fisher x preg reader (fluff) where the reader is insecure and Conrad is his handsome caring self also I love ur vibee

HAHAHAHAAAAAAAHHHH A CONRAD REQUEST?! IN THIS ECONOMY?! YESSS

i present to you:

Conrad X pregnant reader

content under the cut :)

Conrad was honestly really scared when you first told him you were pregnant.

he didn’t know if he had what it took to be a father.

but as soon as he saw that look on your face, innocent, and even kind of scared, he knew he had to step up.

he wasn’t gonna be like his father, there, yet absent. he knew that from the very start, he was gonna be the best father he could be.

the day that you told him was one of the scariest of your life.

“connie?” you said, peering around the corner into the kitchen of the empty feeling cousins house.

“baby? what’s going on?” he said, noticing the weary look on your face. he noticed something in your hands, wondering if it’s what he thought it was.

“um. i don’t know how to tell you this so-“ you said, slowly handing him the pregnancy test. his eyes widened, setting the test on the counter behind him.

“oh- oh baby…” he cooed, noticing how you were now sobbing. he pulled you into his arms, letting you sob into his chest for as long as you needed.

“i-im so sorry… i don’t know what to do-“ you began to ramble, but he cut you off.

“hey hey hey- i’m not mad. i’m just… surprised. i love you so much baby, we’re gonna do this together.” he spoke softly, stroking your hair with his hand.

“whatever you decide, it’s your decision, but i’ll be here for you. through everything.” he kissed your forehead, pulling you closer into him.

“i-i wanna keep it…” you spoke barely above a whisper, conrad nodded.

“then we’re having a baby!” he said excitedly, kissing your lips.

the months to follow were some of the best ever. conrad treated you like a queen, never putting up a fight when you asked for stuff.

he was the one who mainly planned the baby shower, he wanted you to have a break because, well, you were pregnant.

and at that moment, you knew he’d be the greatest father.

hello guys! here’s another request, i hope you enjoyed!!

currently have a dandy request coming soon… keep request!

Love, Kami Khaos 💋

[simpurnatural]

Ride | C. Fisher

"A much needed face ride for the soon-to-be Mrs. Fisher" Drabble

Request a fic-athon Check out my dedicated post about it for more details! Happy requesting everyone!

Just moments ago, you were sat at the kitchen island trying to put together the seating chart for the wedding reception. Not sure about either having round tables or long tables. Why did Aunt Mel not want to sit with Uncle Jo? Wondering if lilies would clash with the shade "butter yellow".

Conrad, your sweet fiance, couldn't handle watching you nearly descend into madness after he asked if you wanted to grab burgers for dinner.

"Maybe if the other twenty percent of our invitees answered the RSVP on time, then I would have an answer Con," you groaned in defeat.

Wordlessly, Conrad plucked you from your seat and carried you into your shared bedroom. You watched as he single-handedly removed his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him.

He crawled onto the bed and placed his hands at your tented knees, pulling them apart. You held your breath as Conrad's eyes never left yours. Yet his hands caressed your thighs up and down, getting dangerously close to your core.

You watched as he pulled your skirt down and you lifted your legs subconsciously. He then brushed the back of his finger against your clothed cunt, your slick dampening your panties.

"You've gotten yourself all worked up baby," Conrad said, finally breaking the silence. "Stressing about napkins and matching table linens," he shook his head as he spoke, as if he was disappointed.

"I just want everything to perfect," you reminded as your fiance hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your panties. "F-for us," you stuttered just as Conrad yanked them off smoothly. "Gosh, there's just gonna be so many people there a-and I don't want them to b-be bored at our wedding," you reasoned.

"Yeah, what else?" he asked as he looked at your soaked cunt.

"We still gotta hire a DJ," you mentioned, Conrad slipping a finger passed your folds slowly. Your hips pushed back at the sensation but he only moved his finger in deeper.

"Tell me more," Conrad instructed as he leaned in to the gap between your thighs.

"I-I'm still waiting to hear back from the v-venue-Fuck!" you choked as he began placing short licks repeatedly against your clit. Conrad's face couldn't even be seen anymore but feeling his mouth work made your mind shut off.

Unbeknownst to you, Conrad smirked before beginning to lap up the wetness pouring from your aching hole. Your hand flew to the top of his hand, grabbing a fistful of his soft hair.

His mouth and his hand moved in a fluid motion, like he had entered genuine flow state. Pumping and sucking while your moans echoed through the house. He made a mental note of the way your voice cracked whenever his finger curled against the walls of your pussy.

Conrad pulled away just as you began seeing stars, a string of saliva strung from your cunt to his lips. You gasped as the feeling of his warm mouth was taken from you abruptly.

Your fiance wasted no time in getting rid of your shirt and unhooking your bra for you. The two of you then switched places, with Conrad at the head of bed and you at the foot. But Conrad lied down flat and motioned for you to come closer.

Carefully, you sat on his lap, feeling his hard-on poke at you from the restraints of his jeans. You began rocking your hips to create friction until Conrad spoke.

"No, sit on my face."

Your eyes widened in shock but you certainly weren't one to disobey. As you aligned yourself with Conrad's mouth, his hands pulled you down - his tongue darting into your cunt. A moan ripped from your throat at the sensation. Your hips began to sway up and down, eyes glossing over.

You found yourself with knuckles white as you held onto the headboard for balance. Conrad, with his irises blown and his hands fastened at your waist.

"Oh," you shuddered as Conrad delicately enveloped your sensitive bud with his tongue.

His hands slithering up your chest and cupping your tits. He squeezed them gently, only making you throw your head back in pure bliss. Conrad then moved onto rubbing your hardened nipples with his thumbs.

Every worry about your wedding was long forgotten in this moment. And Conrad wouldn't want to relieve his fiancee of her stress in other way.

Not to toot my own horn but hot damn. I'm missing my fav fisher :(

[thedevotchka]

The poll still has another day on it… but it IS likely the yays have it…

Plus another immaculate bill meme… OKAY I’ll post the list

[thedevotchka]

I know requests are closed right now, and that there are already FOUR of my reqs on your WIP-list, and any decent well-mannered person would just leave it at that… but I’m about to lose all my shame and shoot my shot anyway. I will give you the biggest puppy eyes, promise to behave myself until October, promise not to roll my eyes or snap at weird anons, and I’ll even try to fill my blog with something other than just reblogs (this is the hardest part, but maybe I’ll finally properly systemize and describe my classification of Romans? I'll figure something out).

Since you’re doing an alphabet for Simon, could you PRETTY PLEASE🙏 add Willard, Clark and Dane to it as well? Of course, you can totally say no, absolutely no hard feelings - except for one, deadly, eternal grudge (I'm JOKING, obviously). And of course, only if the person who specifically requested Simon doesn't mind (they won't mind, right? 🥹)

MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED... but not for you. Never for you! And the prospect of getting a formal classification of Romans? Even if it's just a maybe? YEAH, worth it.

I will do alphabets for Willard, Clark and Dane. I'll give them each their own post like Simon, and then add them all to the main list for housekeeping.

Love youuuuuuuu and your memes, @goosegreenwood

[thedevotchka]

please write something anything about mickey, keith, merkel or dane. the forgotten boys 🙏🙏🙏😭

Motivation (Dane x Reader) - Naked Singularity

Summary: Dane is the public defender on your brother’s case and he’s… less than attentive. So you track him down at a bar after work and make sure he’ll never forget your name or the rewards coming to him if your brother goes free.

Word Count: 4346

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex m!receiving, that’s kinda it for this one!

A/N: DANE! Writing for Dane has been so fun!

MDNI, fic under the cut

“I’m really fucked this time, sis.” Your little brother stares off into the distance, eyes red rimmed and set against deep shadows like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“Not necessarily. Some of these charges are bullshit.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gunna get me on the intent to distribute, sure as shit. Doesn’t matter that they kicked my ribs in first.”

Bile rises in your throat at the memory of your brother’s broken breaths as he fought for his life after taking a six on one beating downtown. The nausea only gets worse when you remember the awful phone call to your parents where you had to tell them he was in the hospital. The pause, the silence.

“Well, he’s only got himself to blame.”

“What?”

“We’re done, honey. He’s had plenty of chances to turn his life around. Dealing drugs and fighting with police officers? No. We’re not going to help him get out of it. Not this time.” Your father’s voice had been firm, even as your mother sobbed in the background.

They hadn’t come home, hadn’t cut their Hawaii vacation short even as their only son fought for his life in the ICU. And when it had come time for charges and lawyers and money, they’d closed the family purse strings and told you that it would have to be a public defender.  

It was that public defender you were talking about now. Dane. “He might not be as bad as you think.”

“Worse.” He scoffs.

“Maybe you caught him on an off day.”

Your brother fixes you with a long look. “Word around here is this guy doesn’t have good days. Worst acquittal rate in the city.”

You close your eyes. “Shit.”

“Shit.” He agrees with a sigh. “But it isn’t on you. I don’t want you to worry about me, I’m not expecting you to fix this. Mom and dad were right about me.”

“No, they weren’t.” You shoot back quickly. “You made a mistake, Alex.”

He raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes at him through the glass. “Okay, a lot of mistakes. But family doesn’t turn their backs on each other. I’m here. Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

You press your fingertips to the glass, and your brother twists his mouth to the side before joining his hand with yours against the cool barrier. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m done for good this time. However this turns out, I’m getting clean. Flying straight or whatever.”

You smile at him, but you don’t let yourself believe it. Not really. Not when he’s said as much a dozen times before and never been able to follow through. It isn’t that he's a bad guy, not really. He's just the weaker of the two of you. You’d always been the one looking after him, that’s just how it had always been. That’s how it would always be.

*

You tug the front of your baggy hoodie down over your jeans as you shuffle from one converse-clad foot to the other, back and forth, back and forth whilst the receptionist watches you with a pained sympathy. “I’m sure he’ll be right down.”

You nod tightly, and her eyes lift to something over your shoulder. She mouths incoherent words, and you turn to see what she’s looking at right as the blur of a fitted grey suit jacket disappears around the corner.

“Was that him?”

The receptionist flushes red. “I’m sorry. I guess he’s not available.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I… this isn’t a social call. I need to talk to him about my brother.”

“I’m sorry.” She says again. “I can make you an appointment for another day, but-“

“But he’s no more likely to see me another day, is he?” You scoff. “That’s goddamn perfect.”

The woman frowns. “Look,” she leans in, dropping her voice an octave. “Dane’s kinda slimy, but there are ways to get his attention.”

You swallow. “Wearing something short and tight, I imagine?”

She curls her lip. “Yeah, that’d do it.”

“Make me the next available appointment, please.”

She winks at you as she pulls up his calendar. “He’s blocked out an hour tomorrow as ‘out of office’ but I know that’s just so he can take a nap so... I’ll just… poof. An hour has opened up at three, look at that.”

You grin at her as she hands you an appointment card. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh hey, one more thing,” she calls to you. “He has a thing about ears.”

“Ears?” You repeat, because you must have misheard her. You must have.

“He’s like… into them. If you have nice ears, show them off.”

*

You feel like an idiot as you fix pretty gold studs in the shape of flowers to your lobes, but it is what it is. You look yourself up and down in the mirror, turning your body back and forth as you examine your short black skirt and the low cut of your blouse. Sleazy, and apparently exactly what Dane goes for.

The receptionist gives you a thumbs-up when you approach her desk, and she calls him on speakerphone.

“Your three ‘o’ clock is here.”

“I don’t have a three ‘o’ clock.” He grumbles.

“Yes you do, I put her in yesterday when you failed to appear for your four ‘o’ clock.” She lets that hang there, and Dane sighs heavily, crackling static on the line.

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Hey, Jan?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Whatcha wearing?”

“Bye, Dane.” She hangs up, rolling her eyes at you. “That’s what you’re getting.”

You fiddle absently with the gold stud in your ear. “I can handle it.”

“Your brothers real lucky to have you,” she says, and you nod. He is, actually.

Dane is pissed. He’s cranky if he doesn’t get his afternoon nap, and he’s downright murderous if he doesn’t get to jerk off before curling up on the little leather couch in his office. Jan and her stupid fucking crusade for customer service has fucked both things up for him, and he’s thinking about getting blackout wasted tonight to make up for his shitty day when he reaches the foyer and sees… hello. Long, smooth legs. Little fucking skirt. Curves that won’t quit. You lift your hand, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, and Dane sees the little glint of gold against the shapely, soft flesh of your lobes. His cock twitches with interest, forgiving him the lack of attention at the prospect of receiving some from her instead.

“Janet,” he says brightly, marching into the foyer with squared shoulders and an air of practiced importance. “Thank you so much for rescheduling this important meeting after I was unavoidably detained yesterday.”

He steps around you, in front of you, and the breath catches in his throat as you fix him with an electric stare. Pretty, pretty, too fucking pretty. “Unavoidably detained,” you repeat, your voice low and teasing. “And here I thought you came down, took one look at me and walked out again.”

Dane feels his cheeks flush pink and his stomach flip over. “No. No, I would never. I was helping a client. Single mother of three, out on the streets… turning her life around, with my help of course.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How noble.”

Dane brushes his fingers through his carefully styled hair, mopping perspiration from his brow with the palm of his hand. “All in a days work for defenders of the downtrodden. Would you follow me to my office, ma’am?”

“Ma’am,” you repeat, your low, mocking tone morphing it into a dirty word. “Lead the way, sir.”

Dane lounges back in his chair on one side of the desk whist you gracefully fold yourself into the plastic chair opposite him. Your eyes scan the walls, the accolades and awards from a time when he hadn’t been so overworked and jaded, and a crease forms between your brows.  “You’ve won some pretty high profile cases.”

Dane flushes with pride, eyes following yours to a framed article about the ‘not guilty’ verdict for a businessman who had 100% embezzled company funds to fuel his gambling habit. “From time to time.”

“My brother isn’t high profile.”

Dane frowns. “Your brother… right.” He pulls a file from the bottom of a discouragingly tall stack and cracks it open for the first time ever. “Huh. Okay.” He shuts the file again. “This is small stuff. Slap on the wrist, he probably won’t even do time.”

“Even if it’s his third offense?”

Dane’s brows furrow. “Third offense?”

“You think he’ll get off with a slap on the wrist even though it’s his third offense?”

“Well no, third offense and they’d throw the book at him.”

You uncross your legs, planting your feet and leaning forward. Dane’s eyes drop to your cleavage as you bend over, and you let him get a good eyeful. “You could have at least read his fucking file before I came in here.”

“I read it.” Dane’s voice is low and distracted, his cock thickening in his slacks as his eyes trail up over your collarbones, your unblemished, bare neck, and catch on those pretty gold studs in your ears again. “Just missed that part.”

You hum, leaning back in your seat again, and Dane shakes his head as though he can physically clear it of arousal. Your new angle pushes your legs a little apart, and Dane is pretty sure he catches a flash of red panties as you cross your legs again.

“I don’t want you missing things on Alex’s case.”

Dane straightens, running his fingers down the front of the closed file. “I promise I’ll take extra care with your brother from this point on. I swear it, on my Harvard Law Degree.”

Your eyes flick to the wall again, looking for said Harvard Law Degree, and Dane stands abruptly, drawing your attention back to him.

“I appreciate you taking the time.” You say tightly, holding out your hand.

Dane reaches across the desk, wrapping his long fingers around yours. “I will do everything I can for Andy.”

“Alex.” Your eyes narrow and your fingers tighten into a death-grip on his hand, and Dane winces.

“Alex, right, right. I’ll do everything I can.”

You leave then, taking your little skirt and your nice tits and your delicate little earlobes with you, and Dane waits until he’s absolutely sure you’re gone before sinking to his knees in front of the chair you’d just vacated and pressing his face against the padded plastic, inhaling the warm residual scent of you as his hands creeps down to palm himself through his slacks.

*

The dress you’re wearing is much too tight, and the heels on your feet are much too high. You look like a damn prostitute, but the bouncer on the door lets you in with an appreciative nod and you don’t have to pay a cover charge and two guys stop you on your way to the bar so you figure you’ve hit a winner with this particular look.

You scan the room, avoiding the predatory interest of men in suits until you land on a pair of wide green eyes in a flushed, pretty-boy face. Bingo.

You approach him slowly, with the carefully practiced grace you’d repeated over and over as you walked up and down in your apartment all afternoon. The too-high hooker heels wouldn’t help one bit if you fell over and tore your dress right across your ass. Dane licks his lips as you approach, eyes shining in the low light as his finger runs nervous circles through the perspiration his glass has left on the bar top.

“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” He says, and you tilt your head to the side.”

“Here’s looking at you, kid.” You shoot him with a finger gun, and Dane swallows thickly.

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” His smile is guarded, and you step into his space, taking his glass and lifting it to your own lips. You kiss the rim right over the smudge of his mouth before taking a sip, and Dane’s eyes drop to watch you do it.

“I’d be offended if you thought I put on this dress for anybody else.”

You feel his fingers glide against your hip tentatively. “I made an impression then.”

You hum, leaning in, pushing his glass to his mouth and pressing his bottom lip bloodless. “You got me distressed.”

Dane frowns, trying to move away from the insistent push of the glass against his face, but you keep the pressure on as your free hand slides up his inseam and cups his soft cock through his slacks. “Couldn’t remember my brother’s name with me standing right there.”

Dane swallows, eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the heat of your hand against him. You squeeze his package again and his eyes open, a muffled moan spilling against the glass at his mouth.

You pull it back an inch, and Dane licks over the swelling as blood floods back into his lip. “I have a lot of cases, it was a momentary slip, when I’m working with the client directly I-“

He breaks off with a grunt as you wrap your fist fully around his cock through his pants and jerk the growing length. “I don’t wanna hear that shit,” you coo, leaning in close to press your lips to his cheek. “You need help remembering this case? I can be…” you dip your head to nip lightly at his jugular before sucking the flesh into your mouth, your hand working over him through his slacks. “So, so memorable.”

Dane moans, hips lifting unconsciously against your palm as his hand grips your hip painfully. “Public… sex acts are considered a Class B misdemeanor under New York Penal Law...” Dane gasps as you lick up the side of his neck and suck his earlobe into your mouth, biting down on the soft flesh.

“P-puh-public lewdness.” He stammers. “It’s hard to prosecute but not-Impossible!” His voice pitches up as you flick your tongue against his lobe, and his cock leaks heavily into his boxers.

“Well if we get caught, you’ll get me off, won’t you Dane?” You murmur, pulling away from him to knock the rest of his drink back. You put his empty glass down in front of him and withdraw your hand from his now-hard cock. He strains against the confines of his pants and you bite your lip, feeling an unexpected throb of arousal in your own core at the tightness of the fabric over his erection and the flush of color on his face.

“It would be a conflict of interest to represent you if you got caught with your hands down my pants.” He says, the words coming automatically because he’s an idiot who might well be talking himself out of fucking you.

“Huh.” You say, lifting a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. Your fingers brush against your bare lobes, pretty and soft as you rub your fingertips against them, and if Dane hadn’t had his suspicions before now he’s certain Jan tipped you off to that particular quirk of his. He’ll be pissed about it later, but right now he can’t think of anything besides sucking that pretty little piece of flesh into his mouth and giving you a new piercing under the grind of his teeth. “Guess we should try not to get caught then.”

Dane’s grip on your hip tightens and he tugs you against his body, free hand taking a handful of your ass as he pulls you closer. “I think you should come back to my apartment.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And I think you should meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.”

*

Dane’s legs actually shake as he slides off his stool and heads for the dingy bathrooms at the back of the bar. He’s still half-expecting that this is a setup, that you’re planning to seduce him so you can get him fired from your brother’s case or something, but he’s too fucking horny to care. He knocks on the door of the last stall and you open it just enough to tug him inside with his tie wrapped in your fist.

“Hey, look, we don’t have to-“

You cut him off with a press of your mouth to his, your tongue gliding against the seam of his lips as your hands work on the buckle of his belt.

Dane groans into your mouth, his hands lifting to cup your cheeks and hold your face still so he can deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth with careful, thoughtful strokes that make your knees weak.

You work harder at his pants, yanking down the zipper and reaching into his boxers to pull his cock free. The moment you have it in your hand you pull away from the kiss, dropping to your knees on the filthy floor and wrapping your lips around his leaking tip.

“Oh shit,” he squeaks, head thumping back against the tiled wall. “You’re not… m-messing around here.”

You hum against his length, letting drool spill out to drip down his length so you can jerk him into your waiting mouth as your tongue laves against his swollen tip. You trace his salty slit with the tip of your tongue, looking up at him through thick lashes before pressing a kiss to the head of his cock. “Say his name.”

It isn’t hot, but you need to get the fucking point across.

“Huh?”

You squeeze his base harshly, bringing your other hand up to cup his balls. “My brother. Say his name. Reassure me, Dane.”

He groans, hips pushing more of his cock into your mouth. You let your throat open for him, let the fat head of his cock push against the resistance of your tonsils, and his fingers lace into your hair. “Alex,” he moans. “Your brother’s name is Alex.”

You roll his balls gently in your palm, massaging them carefully, and Dane’s knees buckle. You pull off his length, dribbling a thin stream of spit onto the slick head of his cock. “You don’t have to pull my hair, Dane.”

“I-I’m not, I-“

“You can put your hands where you really want to.”

Dane freezes, his fingers already twitching down towards your ears. “Jan told you.”

“I don’t mind.” You say, pressing soft kisses to his tip. “I think it’s hot.”

It doesn’t matter that you don’t. Dane’s hands skim up the sides of your jaw, thumb and forefinger pinching your earlobes as he tugs lightly, and his cock drips fresh precum onto your fist. “You got sexy ears,” he mutters. His cock throbs and twitches in your hand as if agreeing. “Pretty little things.”

“You can be rough with me,” you coo, flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock and dragging it upwards along the thick vein there. “You can cum down my throat, if you want to.”

Dane huffs an incredulous laugh, but he keeps rolling your earlobes between his thumb and forefinger and watching you with a glazed, hungry expression as you wrap your lips around his cock and sink back down until he’s seated in your throat.

“God, you’re a good sister.” He babbles. “Taking cock on your knees to… motivate me.”

You hum against him, pleased that he’s cottoned on to your scheme so quickly and doesn’t seem to mind.

He tugs a little harder on your ears and your eyes roll back, a surprising jolt of arousal slicking in your core at the rough manhandling. You shimmy your thighs closer together, squeezing them tightly against your clit for a little friction.

“You take it so well,” he moans. “I don’t get paid enough to do what I do. But if the perks looked like this more often I’d… shit…” he breaks off, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he grinds his pelvis harshly into your face and his cock spurts hot and heavy ropes of cum down your throat.

You swallow around him, feeling your muscles spasm against the intrusion as Dane fucks your face through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He never stops fondling your fucking ears, and they’re red and swollen and sore by the time he lets you go.

You rise to a stand, wincing at the dull ache in your knees as you stretch your legs. Dane’s leaning heavily against the wall, not yet trusting his legs to hold him up as you tuck his cock away and smooth over the hem of your dress. “I expect you to keep my brother’s case in the forefront of your busy schedule, Dane.”

He can only nod, face flushed and heart hammering as he watches you smear his cum off your lips like residual gloss. “I really will do all I can for you. I mean, for him, but.”

You lick your lips before reaching up to peck his mouth. “Get him less than 90 days and I’ll let you fuck my mouth as many times as you want.”

Dane whimpers against your lips, feeling his sensitive cock twitch and thicken again.

You pull back enough to whisper against his mouth. “Get him community service and I’ll let you fuck my pussy.”

Your fingers graze lightly over his freshly growing bulge and Dane tries to withdraw his hips, too oversensitive to handle your touch so soon.

“And Dane,” you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, nibbling on the plush flesh before releasing it and licking the taste of him from your own lips. “You get him acquitted? You can fuck my mouth, my pussy, my ass… Anything you want.” You brush your mouth against his again as your fingers rub maddeningly against his pants. “Something to think about.”

You pull away too suddenly, and Dane feels the loss like you’ve slapped him. “I’ll do my goddamn best,” he mumbles, rubbing his hand through his hair and trying very hard to will his erection away. “The cops laid into him without cause, that’ll help. Said their bodycams malfunctioned but I already put in a FOIA request so we’ll see if that’s bullshit.”

You blink at him, your stomach tightening. “You… read the file.”

Dane shrugs like it’s no big deal, though he hasn’t actually taken interest in a case in longer than he can remember. “Your brother got shitty treatment. It’s that kinda injustice that got me into the public defenders office.”

You swallow, stepping closer. Dane winces preparing for another delicious assault on his softening cock, but instead you lift your palm to cup his cheek and press your lips to his in a gentle, chaste kiss. “Thank you, Dane. I mean it.”

Dane shrugs again, feeling his chest tighten and his pulse quicken at your soft, earnest touch. “Just doing my job,” he says quietly, but he leans his face against your palm and savours the moment of contact all the same.

*

You roll your eyes at the shoes scattered haphazardly across your hallway as you pick over them and reach the front door.

“Should I wait up?” Alex calls from the couch. He’s taken over your space, his bags and clothes exploded over your living areas. You pick your way back through the mess and hover in the doorway, watching the concentrated look on his face as he kills zombies or aliens or something. The thick black monitor on his ankle flashes rhythmically, and you tap your foot against the charger on the wall. “Don’t forget to change the batteries on that thing tonight.”

The sound of death and gunfire cuts off as your brother pauses his game. “You not coming home tonight?”

You shrug, but you can feel a blush creeping up your neck and you know Alex has clocked it too.

“I have some business to attend to.”

The business was waiting outside your building right now, gripping onto his rucksack like his life depended on it. The contents of said bag weighed on him, shame and excitement mixing into the perfect cocktail to keep him half-hard and manic as he waits for you.

Alex hadn’t done a single minute of jailtime, once the footage of his assault had come to light. No community service, and once the judge deemed the initial search unlawful, all the charges had just been… dropped.

And Dane had felt like a seedy, greedy asshole as he’d turned in the courtroom to catch your eye, but you’d winked and pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek in a ridiculously sexy reminder of the evening you’d spent on your knees for him, and he’d been glad of the tight fit of his boxers concealing his erection as he’d distracted himself with paperwork and congratulatory handshakes.

You push through the door to your building, looking radiant in the pretty pink dress he’d picked out. He leans in and you peck his lips obediently, eyeing the bag slung over his shoulder. “What am I in for?”

Dane grins, a blush staining his cheeks as he offers you his arm. “You offered me everything, sweetheart. I’m cashing in big time.”

“Will I need to take time off work?” You tease, and Dane pauses, considering this.

“No. But I wouldn’t recommend any strenuous activity for at least forty-eight hours after I’m done with you.”

You swallow, arousal throbbing in your core. “Yeah?”

Dane stops walking, pinning you to the dark glass front of a closed store and cupping your jaw. “Anything I want, remember?” He says softly, brushing his lips against yours as his breath fans warm over your face. “Your mouth, your pussy, your ass. All mine.”

“My brother’s sleeping on my couch with an ankle monitor,” you mumble, breathless as Dane’s thigh presses between your legs.

“Yeah,” he coos, nuzzling his nose against your cheek before pulling back and taking your hand in his. “You’re welcome.”

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard

[thedevotchka]

hiiii, how are you gorgeous? what do you think of a sequel to Three’s Company and A king Dethroned where Eric shows up at Roman’s place looking for the reader because he can’t stop thinking about her and he’s absolutely down bad for her. When she opens the door he begs her to leave Roman and be with him instead. They ended up having sex but then Roman gets home early and hears the whole thing 🫣🫣🫣

Take me to Paris (Eric Draven x Reader x Roman Godfrey)

Summary: The third instalment to Three’s Company and A King Dethroned.

It’s been a month since you and Eric had taught Roman Godfrey a lesson, and Eric hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for a single moment. He knows it’s dumb, he knows it’s borderline suicidal in fact, but his stupid heart and stupider cock lead him right to your door anyway.

Word Count: 7067

Warnings: NSFW, hand stuff, oral sex m!receiving, slight dubcon, threeeeesome lets go!

MDNI, fic under the cut

You’re brushing your teeth, eyes straying to catch the last of the sitcom rerun on your TV when you hear it. The faintest tapping, so quiet you think you might have imagined it, but you step out of the bathroom and mute the TV anyway. A pause, and then the sound again, tap, tap, tap.

You spit a mouthful of minty foam into the sink and rinse it down before heading into the hall, tugging the hem of your tank top down where it’s ridden up over your stomach.

You check the chain is on before lifting up onto your toes, your stomach flipping over at the sight of his downturned face. You unhook the chain with shaking fingers, pulling the door wide and staring at the dishevelled man on the other side. “Eric?”

“Can I come in?”

“You… Roman isn’t here.”

“I know.” He lifts his head, licking over his lips as his eyes drop down the length of your body. “Can I come in anyway?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate. If you’re here to dropoff you can do that, but otherwise you’ll have to come back when he’s home.”

… is what you should have said. But instead Eric is sitting on your couch, his long legs bent at the knees as he slouches back against the expensive leather and he worries at the frayed corner of a hole in his jeans. You hand him a beer, and he tips it in your direction before taking a sip. You sit down beside him, folding your leg underneath your body as you turn to face him. “What’s going on, Eric?”

“I… shit.” He sighs shakily, lifting his free hand to rake back through his messy dark hair. “I know I shouldn’t have come.”

“I don’t mind.” You say softly, laying your palm against his thigh. “If you’re in trouble… if you need to talk.”

The look he shoots you is agony as he groans. “It’s not… shit.” He takes another sip of his beer before leaning forward to put it on the coffee table. The perspiring bottle leaves a ring immediately, and you think about the disdain you’ll see on Roman’s face when he notices. Not that he can ever know about this visit, obviously.

“Eric, c’mon.” Your voice is low and soothing, and you tickle your fingers against his thigh. “Talk to me.”

Eric wraps his hand around your wrist, snatching it off his leg. You jump with the shock of his sudden movement, but he doesn’t release you. He turns your hand over, eyes dropping to your palm as he chews his bottom lip into his mouth before lifting your hand to his face and pressing his lips against your fingers.

“It’s been a month.” He says quietly, lips ghosting the words over your hand. “Almost to the day.”

“I know.” Your core throbs with a sudden burst of arousal at the feeling of his mouth on you and the memory of his mouth on you.

“You haven’t been back.”

“Roman… thought it was best he find another dealer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, and Eric’s cock twitches at the wrecked edge to it as you press your thighs together.

“That’s what Roman thinks, huh?” He lifts his eyes to yours then, endless pools of green rimmed in messy dark liner. His lips pull into a crooked smirk. “What do you think? You wanted to stay away from me too?”

You press your lips into a tight line as he returns his mouth to your hand, dragging his full lips lazily over your palm before pressing a firmer kiss to your wrist. “Things have been good. With him.” It isn’t a denial exactly, and Eric lets himself feel a little sting of hope in his chest as he pulls you closer and peppers soft kisses up the expanse of your forearm.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You freeze, the breath turning to ice in your lungs as you stare at him. “You can’t say that to me.”

“I can.” He releases your arm finally, and you shuffle back against the opposite side of the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest. This gives Eric a view of your ass in your tiny little hot-pant pajamas, and he shifts in his seat as his cock thickens in his jeans. “I just did.” His smile is almost playful, but his heart is hammering in his chest as he analyzes every micro-expression passing over your pretty face.

“You can’t think about me like that. It isn’t… it isn’t possible.”

Eric pushes a breath out through his mouth before facing you again. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, actually. I've tried.”

You make a little sound then, and Eric’s eyes snap to your mouth as your lips part around it. So close to a moan and a little like a sob. He wants to hear it again.

“Try harder.”

He shakes his head as he climbs properly onto the couch, pinning you against the armrest as he hovers over you. He braces his strong hands beside your head, the muscles in his arms flexing under the ink on his skin as he leans in close enough to kiss you. “Been trying for a month, princess. I can’t do it. Can’t quit you.”

You don’t think. You lean up, feeling the hard planes of his body against your chest as you press your lips to his, and Eric dissolves into you with a single, delicious exhale. It’s like the first fix after a stint in rehab, both a comfort and a curse as his blood thrums too fast in his veins and his stomach churns like he’s gunna throw up. Addict, addict, addict. He’s an addict through and through and he’s addicted to you. Inconvenient, when you have a boyfriend you love more than anything. Downright suicidal when that boyfriend is Roman Godfrey. But kissing you, feeling the creeping of your fingers around the back of his neck as you pull him closer, and the taste of your tongue when he licks your lips open is worth the risk. Is worth any risk. His cock is hard now, and he lowers himself flush against you to grind his erection down against your core through your little damp pants.

You gasp, breaking the kiss and tugging on his hair, and Eric forces himself to pull back. “Eric,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of him rutting against you. “Oh fuck, Eric. We can’t.”

“Leave him.” Eric moans, cupping your jaw and letting his palm press against your throat. “I could make you happy. You know I could.”

You whimper at the press of his palm and the hot, possessive curl of his fingers against your jaw as you soak the thin cotton of your pants. “I can’t just—I love him.”

Eric growls, the sound coming out like frustration even as his heart aches over the admission. “You want me, too.” He doesn’t dare suggest you love him, not when he’s terrified to hear you disagree.

“Yes,” you whisper, tugging harder on his hair. “Oh fuck yes, I want you.”

He pulls back properly then, bracing against the arm of the couch at your back as the leather creaks in protest. “Let me show you. Let me show you how good I can be for you.”

He licks over his lips, eyes so dark with lust that you’re drowning in them. This is it. This is the last moment to stop him, to kick him out, to call Roman and beg him to come home and remind you why you’re his.

You feel the heavy twitching of his cock against you, and your eyes drop to where he strains against the distressed fabric of his black jeans, and your fist closes in the front of his shirt as you pull him back against you and wrap your legs around his hips.

Eric undresses you with reverence. It isn’t like before, when nerves and the weight of Roman’s fury had made his hands shake. Now he has you all to himself, looking up at him with parted lips and blush-stained cheeks, and he takes his fucking time. He rubs carefully over your core, biting his lip to suppress a moan at how soaked you are, and you wriggle against his hand. “Goddamn,” he whispers. “You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you. This all for me?”

“Yes.” You tilt your hips up towards him. “Please, Eric. Please, I need… more.” You swallow as your cheeks heat with embarrassment, but Eric rewards you with his thumbs in the waistband of your pajamas as he rolls the fabric down your thighs and your exposed core drops down onto the dark leather beneath you.

“Yeah,” he hums, pushing two fingers against you to part your folds so he can watch your slick glisten against your swelling clit. “Just like I remember.” He watches his own tattooed fingers disappear inside you, and your back arches off the couch with a little moan. He’s aching now, and he tugs his button and zipper loose so he can pull his cock out of his boxers and squeeze his base to relieve a little pressure.

“Please,” you whimper, trying desperately to grind down against his hand. Eric wiggles his fingers inside you, testing the tight resistance of your muscles as his thumb finds your clit and taps it lightly.

“You should leave him,” he says again, voice like gravel as he curls his fingers and tugs them half out before pushing back in. “He’s no good for you.”

“Yeah?” You moan, head dropping back against the hard arm of the couch. “He loves me.”

“He’s selfish,” Eric mumbles, leaning forward to dribble a thick slick of spit onto your pussy before rubbing it into your clit. “Don’t like how he talks to you.”

You grit your teeth as his thumb coaxes your clit to swell to the point of pain, the rough in and out drag of his fingers pulling you back and forth against the leather sticking to your exposed skin. “You just don’t…” You break off with a choked little moan as Eric hits your most sensitive spot, and your legs try to clamp around his arm. He holds you open easily, and you watch the taut ripple of muscle and ink as he pushes your thighs apart. “Know him.”

Eric hums, pulling out of you and rolling your clit between his thumb and forefinger. “I know his type. Spoiled little rich boy, treats everybody like the fuckin help.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, and you feel your stomach flip over with anxiety at the severe knitting of his brows as his mouth pulls down into a frown.

“There’s more to him than that.” You don’t know why you’re still arguing, why you’re defending the most spoiled man you’ve ever met. Eric releases your clit and gathers your arousal on his fingers, leaning back to wrap his hand around his cock and slicking himself up.

“He pimped you out for a fucking ego trip,” he says, voice a low growl of sound. “He doesn’t know what he’s got.”

You swallow, hips lifting as though you can draw him back to you. “Please, Eric. Don’t you wanna touch me?”

Eric bites his bottom lip, eyes glazing over as he works his fist up and down his leaking cock, and you feel a fresh slick of arousal soak the couch beneath you as you watch him touch himself. “I wanna be inside you. Wanna fill you up again.”

You whine, sitting up and reaching for him. You tug his hand away from his cock and guide him closer, pulling him over you as you settle back against the couch. You feel the hot press of his cock against your entrance, and you bear down to pull him into your heat. “I want it too. Never been so full.”

Eric moans, pressing his lips to yours as he sinks his considerable length into you. “Just for us,” he whispers into your mouth, pulling half out and pushing back in. You wrap your legs around his hips, clamping down on his cock with shameless need as Eric ruts against you. “Not because he wants it.”

Your eyes roll back as his length grazes against your sensitive walls with every thrust, and you reach down to rub at the swollen bud of your clit as arousal tightens in your stomach. “Cuz we want it,” you whimper, and it’s music to Eric. It’s the best fucking thing he’s ever heard.

“You deserve better.” He spits, sitting back on his heels and lifting your legs to brace against his shoulders. You’re split open at this angle, and Eric pushes your fingers away to touch you himself as you writhe beneath him.

“I’m so… fuck,” you groan. “So full, Eric.”

He loves it when you say his name like that. His thumb rubs silky circles against your clit as his cock twitches and thickens inside you, and he knows it won’t be long. Not when he’s been jerking off and thinking about exactly this for weeks. Not when you look up at him with tears beading on your lashes and absolute, carnal hunger in your pretty eyes. “I’m gunna come,” he whimpers, hips snapping hard against yours.

There’s a burning stretch along the backs of your calves, but your own orgasm is right there and you focus on that building pleasure.

“Me too,” you whisper, biting down hard on your lip. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please, please-ohhh.” You cum with a moan, your walls clamping down so hard on Eric’s cock it almost hurts. He feels the fluttering pulse in your clit as you ride against his hand, and his own orgasm is dragged out of him by the prison of your body as you milk every drop of his release into your greedy cunt.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you wail, pleasure rolling through you in endless, electric waves as he pulses and spills inside you. Eric holds on as long as he can, even as his cock softens and the relentless pull of your muscles starts to hurt.

Eventually you sigh, dropping boneless to the couch, and Eric slips out of you with a grunt of discomfort.

“Oh, well don’t stop.”

*

Your blood turns to poisonous sludge in your veins at the cruel, cold drawl of his voice from the doorway. Eric’s eyes meet yours, his own alert and wide, and you scramble to pull your shorts back up as Eric tucks his cock away and turns to face your boyfriend.

Roman’s leaning against the door, a mean smirk fixed on his face even though his insides are churning with such potent rage he can barely even see you. Eric stays right there, staring him down whilst shielding you from him, and the fury in Roman’s blood ignites as he pushes away from the door and crosses the room.

His eyes do flick to Eric’s beer on the bare table, his lip curling up in distaste as you knew it would, but then his unsettling eyes fix on you and your stomach bottoms out. “Roman, it’s not-“

“Shut your lying whore mouth.”

Your lips snap shut, your teeth knocking together with the force of the command, and Eric’s shoulders square as he blocks your body with his own. His hair is a little damp with sweat, the shaggy ends of his mullet curling against his neck, and he looks thoroughly fucked. At least you’d made it count.

“She didn’t ask me to come here.” Eric says slowly. “This just happened.”

“Yeah, I just watched it happen.” Roman says, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “For a big guy you really don’t have the stamina, do you?”

A muscle ticks in Eric’s jaw, and Roman feels a little thrill of adrenaline from poking at the bear. “You just stood there watching?” He snaps. “I guess I shoulda known.”

Roman steps closer, hinging at the waist to bring his face so close to Eric’s he could lean in and bite his fucking nose off if he wanted to. That’d serve the piece of shit right. “Watch it.”

“Yeah. You do, don’t you, Godfrey? You like to watch. You like to be cucked.”

Roman’s fist swings, connecting with the side of Eric’s face and sending him reeling. His head snaps back, eyes on fire as a scarlet welt blooms across his sharp cheekbone.

Roman won’t admit that punching him had hurt, that his knuckles feel like they’ve been shattered against the sculpted bones of the other man’s face.

If you hadn’t been sitting so close, if Eric hadn’t been able to feel how terrified you were, he’d have hit back. He’d have beaten Roman’s privileged ass until he begged for mercy. But with you sitting there he can’t do it. He just can’t.

“The last guy to hit me like that ended up in the hospital.” Eric says carefully, his voice low and disconcertingly calm. “Do it again and you’ll be breathing through a tube if you’re breathing at all.”

Roman smirks, even as his cock twitches at the thought of his blood filling his mouth and splashing over Eric’s face and your slutty bare thighs. “You want her?”

Eric blinks at him, at the complete shift in the tension from violence to something else. “What?”

Roman’s eyes rake over you, and your force yourself to meet his indifference. “Do you want her?”

“I… I just… I mean…” Eric rubs a hand over the back of his head, hating himself even as he’s drawn in. “What do you mean?”

Roman sighs like Eric is slow, like it’s the most obvious thing in the goddamn universe. “Do you want her? Do you want me to dump her whore ass so you can make her your slutty little girlfriend?”

Eric swallows, shoulders tensing as his heart hammers in his chest.

“Roman, you can’t just-“ Your voice is sharp and wounded.

“Yes.” Eric cuts you off, and you slump back against the couch. You hadn’t thought Eric would entertain… whatever this was.

Roman’s smirk widens. “You play a little game with me, and you can have her.”

“A game.” Eric repeats slowly.

“Just a game,” Roman coos, stepping closer and reaching past Eric to cup your jaw. Your eyes close at the contact and you lean into his palm. Roman hums in approval, thumb stroking over your mouth. “I love her, you know.” Your eyes open, brimming with hope so openly vulnerable it almost makes Roman sick. “I want her to be happy. Want her satisfied.” A throb rocks through you, your clit pulsing with fresh desire as his words settle over you. “So show me.”

Eric licks his lips. “Show you… make her cum?”

He’s already moving, his hands reaching for your thighs.

“Noooo,” Roman coos, palming his growing bulge until Eric’s eyes drop. “Show me. Make me cum.”

“No.” The word is out automatically, even if Eric’s own cock is growing stiffer by the second. Even if Roman’s blissed out face and the long, tanned lines of his unblemished body flash in Eric’s head sometimes when he’s touching himself at night. Even if he can still taste the ghost of Roman’s lips on his every time he smokes weed.

“I thought you wanted her badly,” Roman teases, squeezing the outline of his cock through his slacks. “You’re willing to be a fucking homewrecker but you’re not willing to suck a cock to get her? Tragic.”

He turns to you, pushing his thumb into your mouth. “I guess he isn’t willing to go the distance for you, baby.”

You suck obediently on his thumb, and Eric feels a flash of panicked jealousy surge through him as he knocks Roman’s hand away from you and yanks his pants open rough enough to break the zipper.

Roman huffs a little chuckle, flicking hair from his eyes as Eric tugs his cock from his boxers and jerks him roughly. It’s different, the callouses on Eric’s fingers and the sheer fucking size of his hand wrapped around his length. “Yeah.” Roman huffs. “Good fucking boy.”

Eric’s cock leaks fresh precum into his jeans as he runs his thumb over the head of Roman’s cock and drags his fist down, flexing his long fingers against the underside as he works Roman’s length. “This how you touch yourself when you think about my girl?” Roman asks, his voice rough with building pleasure. “You think about her when you jerk your filthy fucking cock?”

Eric licks his lips, squeezing impossibly tighter until Roman yelps. “Yeah, I think about her.” He spits. “Think about how good she felt cumming on my cock whilst you cried about it.”

Roman reaches for Eric’s hair, fisting the choppy dyed strands and dragging his face against him. Eric releases his grip on Roman’s cock, and the sticky head of it bobs against his closed lips.

“Suck it.” Roman spits. “Suck my fucking cock, you pathetic piece of – shiiiiit,” Roman breaks off with a moan as Eric wraps his lips around the head of Roman’s cock and sucks hard enough to melt Roman’s brain.

He hums against Roman’s length, surprised that he doesn’t hate the musky taste of his precum or the feeling of his cock in his mouth. Eric had always considered himself a little biflexible, though he’d never much explored it outside of make-outs at parties when he was usually too wasted to know who he was kissing. But he thinks maybe, maybe he likes this. He wishes it wasn’t Roman Godfrey’s cock in his mouth, even as his own cock throbs at the sight of the man’s face dissolving into pleasure.

Roman’s fists tug harder on Eric’s hair as he pushes his face down against his crotch, and Roman’s tip hits the back of Eric’s throat. Tears spring hot to his eyes, streaking through the messy kohl ringing his eyes, and he’s about to tap out when he feels a featherlight touch on his cheek. He glances to the side as best he can with Roman Godfrey fucking his face, and you’re there. Your own eyes brimming with tears, your lips parting on a little moan as you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, right where Roman’s cock is driving in and out of the stretch of his lips.

“So good, Eric.” You whisper. “You’re taking him so good.”

Eric’s eyes roll back at how completely, violently depraved this whole thing is.

“I know,” you soothe. “I know exactly how it feels. Keep… fuck, keep doing that. Let him use your throat, Eric. Let me tell you what he likes.” Eric’s half listening, half trying to focus on not reaching between his own legs to touch himself. But then he hears the slick, wet sound of your fingers working in and out of your hole, and he looks down to confirm that your hand is moving erratically inside your pants and he moans around Roman’s cock.

“Goddamn,” Roman groans, snapping his hips faster as his length pushes into Eric’s throat. “You’re such a little fucking slut.”

You look up at Roman, biting your bottom lip as you work your fingers against your clit. “I can’t help it.” You whimper.

“No.” He rolls his eyes, yanking hard enough on Eric’s hair that he practically sobs as Roman withdraws his cock from his throat.

“You’re hard, Draven. From sucking my cock?”

Eric scoffs, but he doesn’t try to hide the prominent jut of his erection against his jeans. “It’s for her.”

You flush, reaching out to run your fingers over his swollen mouth and collect the slick of saliva and precum from his lips. “My heart fucking bleeds for you.” Roman drawls. “You think you can take my load before she takes yours?”

Eric swallows thickly, feeling the sting in his throat where Roman had already brutalised it. “I don’t know, man.”

Roman hums, rubbing his thumb teasingly over the head of his cock. “Just her hand. She’s got nice hands, doesn’t she?”

Eric bites his lip, and Roman reaches to pinch his chin and force his mouth open. “Go on, sweetheart.”

You reach for Eric’s cock, tugging it out of his jeans and wrapping a fist around him. “It’s okay, Eric.” You whisper. “It’ll be over soon.”

Eric isn’t sure if the churning in his stomach is because you’re wrong or because you’re right. He leans in to wrap his lips around Roman’s cock again, laving his tongue against the underside. The benefit of having a cock is knowing roughly what feels good, and Eric employs every bit of his own experience to the task as he pushes his tongue into the salty slit at Roman’s tip before flicking against his frenulum.

You shimmy down between his legs to suck his cock then, and Eric moans at the feeling of your mouth on him as you slick his length with saliva.

“Not your mouth.” Roman warns, and you pull away, licking over your lips as you wrap your hand around Eric’s cock and jerk your fist up and down his length.

Eric’s eyes roll back at the feeling of your slicked hand on him, and he rocks back and forth to thrust into your hand as Roman’s hips begin to tilt towards his face to meet each bob of his head.

“Make him cum, baby.” He orders, and you twist your fist over the head of his cock with each rough jerk. Eric whines around his full mouth, spit spilling from the corners of his lips as Roman’s cock pushes into his throat again.

“You look so good,” you whisper to Eric, pecking his cheek and feeling unbearable waves of arousal roll through you at the sight of your boyfriend’s cock hollowing out Eric’s cheeks. “You’re doing so well.”

Eric hums, and Roman’s hips stutter as the vibration nearly tips him over the edge. “Tell him you want him.” He spits through gritted teeth, pulling back enough to let his cock rest against Eric’s tongue as you swallow thickly.

“I want you, Eric. How could… how could I not?”

Eric sobs as he cums, spilling over your fist and staining the dark fabric of his jeans as your words undo him. He’s still so sensitive from being inside you, and the weighty meat of Roman’s cock against his tongue is simultaneously grounding and so impossibly hot he can barely stand it. Roman pulls roughly out of his mouth, and Eric slumps against the front of the couch, chest heaving as his cock twitches in your palm.

“Good girl.” Roman says, offering you a tiny, terrifying smile as he wraps your hair around his fist and pulls you up. “Go get cleaned up.”

You don’t want to. Don’t want to leave Eric alone with him, don’t want to leave either of them alone without you. But Roman’s grip in your hair tightens to the point of pain, and you stumble from the room on shaking legs with shame and anxiety churning in your stomach.

“You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you?” Roman sighs, dropping into a crouch beside Eric and running his fingers through the cooling cum splashed across his thighs before roughly taking Eric’s cock in his hand and jerking him with such violence that Eric actually does cry a little.

“You thought you could steal from me? From me?” Roman asks, releasing his cock and wrapping his slick fist around his own cock again. “Thought you could come into my house and steal my girl like a fucking gypsy in the night?” Fury builds in Eric even as Roman laces his fingers into his hair and pulls his face close again, pressing the man’s cheek against his thigh as his fist becomes a blur against his cock. “You thought I’d give her to you?”

Roman scoffs, the sound morphing into a broken moan as he comes, spurting his release over Eric’s face and committing the disgusting sight of the man’s lips coated in him to memory. “People like… people like you don’t get people like her.” He stammers, squeezing every last drop out of his tip before releasing himself and smearing his cum over Eric’s face. “Maybe I let you fuck her from time to time, if I’m feeling like it. But you can’t have her. Nod if you understand.”

Eric is thinking about all the ways he’s going to make Roman Godfrey pay for this, even as he nods against his thigh and licks Roman’s cum from his lips. Because he will pay for it. For the disrespect, for the deception. For awakening a new hunger in Eric Draven that will only be satiated by taking more than just you from the entitled piece of shit.

Because he is going to take you from Roman, as an act of love and one of mercy. But he isn’t going to stop there, not anymore. He isn’t going to stop until he’s had Roman Godfrey, too.

The shower shuts off, and you pad into the room in just a towel. Your hair is damp, your skin scrubbed clean and still steaming. Roman tilts his head to the side, just looking, before he pats his thigh. You hesitate for only a moment, glancing at Eric slumped against the couch on his other side. His shoulders rise and fall steadily, so you know Roman hasn’t killed him at least. His eyes are glassy as he looks up at you, lips slick with cum and spit and swollen from Roman’s rough treatment.

“You really wore him out,” Roman murmurs, snatching a handful of your bare thigh as you settle onto his knee. “But you didn’t get to cum, did you? You had to jerk his pathetic cock and watch me get sucked off and nobody touched you.”

You swallow, eyes darkening at the teasing tone in Roman’s voice as his fingers crawl up your thigh. “No. It’s okay.”

“Noooo,” he coos. “I heard him before. Telling you to leave me. Telling you how happy he’d make you. Filling your cunt with his filthy fucking cum without my permission. Isn’t that right?”

You can only nod, eyes fixed on Eric where he stares up at you with a dazed expression on his face. You know that look. You’ve been that look. It’s the look of a person whose been forced into a subspace they didn’t know they had the capacity to exist in, under Roman Godfrey’s control. Your stomach twists with anxious sympathy for him. Nobody survives Roman. Nobody.

“So lets see, huh?” He continues, pulling you against his chest so he can nuzzle the sharp point of his nose against your neck. “Lets see who can make you fucking happy.”

You moan softly at the brush of his lips against your skin as his fingers disappear under your towel and cup your pussy. “Whatever you want, Rome.” You sigh.

“What do you say, Draven?” Roman asks, using his free hand to pinch Eric’s chin and turn his face up. He doesn’t even bother to look down at the man, focused solely on nipping at your exposed throat. He doesn’t see the hardening glint in Eric’s eyes as he nods in his grip.

“Whatever you want, Godfrey.”

Roman hums, satisfied with his pretty, slutty little dolls. “You wanna go to Paris, baby?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you look at Eric again. His eyes are fixed on you now, and he bites the corner of his lip into his mouth. “I… I’ve never seen the Eiffel tower.”

Roman chuckles, the sound sending skitters of heat down your chest to pebble your nipples. “Oh sweetheart. You’ll see it tonight. That’s a goddamn promise.”

He lifts you off his lap, depositing you on the couch as he pushes up to a stand and clicks his fingers at Eric. “You’re taking her mouth. You’ve had her cunt already.”

Eric doesn’t mind, not at all, and he rises to his full height on legs that ache from being bent against the floor for so long. You look up at the two men, comparing them. Eric might have an inch on Roman, but he might not. He’s certainly broader, a product of late nights at the gym, and all his ink makes him look older, more rugged. Roman’s face is a little fuller, not yet completely rid of the softness of adolescence, and you wonder how much older Eric is. Five years? Seven?

The men stare at each other for a moment, a smirk on Roman’s face and a calculated look of something disquieting on Eric’s. It’s like they’re having a silent conversation, a battle of wills, and you feel an absurd pang of jealousy.

“Please.” You say, and both men turn their heads to look at you. The similarity in the way they move is eery, and you press your thighs together.

Eric’s face softens first, and he reaches for you without permission, cupping your jaw and hinging at the waist to kiss your mouth. You can still taste Roman’s cum on his tongue, and you moan into the kiss at how hot and disgusting and disgustingly hot that is. Roman wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you up, the towel dropping onto the floor as he manouvers you to press against his chest.

You break the kiss as he plants a hand on the small of your back and pushes you down, bending you in half as his hand grips your hip and pulls you back against his cock. “I think you’re too short for this.”

You make an annoyed sound of protest, and Roman delivers a little tap to your bare ass. "Get on the couch.”

You obey immediately, climbing back onto the couch and settling onto all fours.

Eric’s cock is out again, angry and red from his previous releases as he runs his fingers up and down the stiffening length. “You gunna let me in that pretty mouth, princess?”

Roman grits his teeth as you nod, his own cock leaking sticky droplets of precum as he climbs onto the couch behind you and brushes his cock through your folds. You’re not as wet as he’d like, having wasted it on the fucking shower. “I’m not gunna go easy on you,” he murmurs softly as he pushes into you. “You wanna behave like a whore and I’ll treat you like one.”

You whimper at the sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness arching your back, and Roman groans as he pulls all the way out and slams back in.

You wince, and Eric feels a bolt of fury rock through him. You watch the tension in his face, the way his hands ball into fists at his sides. “Eric, please,” you whisper. “Please let me taste it.”

Eric swallows, his cock leaking in his fist even though he’s still half focused on the pain on your face. “You don’t have to.”

“She does.” Roman spits, snapping his hips against your ass so fast his balls make a slap, slap, slap sound against your neglected clit.

“I want it.” You lick over your lips. “C’mon. Make me happy.”

Eric sighs as he guides his cock towards your face. He knows it’s not right, that none of this has been right since the moment Roman crashed the fucking party, but at the feeling of your wet, warm mouth wrapping around his tip all thoughts of right and wrong dissolve into desire.

His fingers thread into your hair, not to push but to caress, scratching his nails lightly against your scalp until you hum against his length. “Shit, princess. Shit, you’re so good at that.”

You look up at him through your lashes, injecting every bit of desire into your gaze as you press forward, dragging his length along your tongue as you let the head of his cock press against the tight entrance to your throat.

“Up top, Draven.” Eric forces his eyes away from the frankly transcendent sight of you swallowing his cock to look at Roman, who has his hand up for a fucking high five.

“What?”

He rolls his eyes, flicking damp hair off his forehead with an agitated jerk of his head. “Eiffel Tower, man.”

Eric almost ignores him, but Roman’s being playful and not awful right now, so he untangles one hand from your hair and slaps his palm against Roman’s.

“Fuck yeah!” Roman laughs, returning his hand to your other hip and dragging you back against him harder. “God, baby. You want me to rub your clit?”

You moan around Eric’s cock, and Roman bites his lip at how good you sound before he fumbles around your body to roll his thumb over your clit.

You spasm around his cock immediately, your muscles fluttering as you whimper against Eric’s cock, and both men grunt in surprised approval at the change in your performance.

“Shit, I’m not gunna last if you keep doing that,” Eric mutters, his stomach tightening as you swallow around his cock and squeeze the sensitive head into the tight column of your throat.

“You gotta cum for me,” Roman coos, circling the sensitive bud with the exact pressure he knows you like best. “You want me to fill you up you gotta cum for me first.”

You hum, and Eric’s fingers tighten in your hair as he shoots his load down your throat. He hadn’t had time to warn you, his orgasm taking him completely by surprise, and he makes a strangled yelping sound as he comes. Roman watches him fall apart, watches him stroke your hair back from your face even as he’s in the fucking middle of his orgasm, and his stomach tightens with a mean jealousy.

He runs his fingers against your folds, collecting your slick and rubbing it back up over your clit until your legs begin to shake and your cunt flutters around him in a steady, pulsing rhythm.

Eric pulls his cock out of your mouth and you suck in a sharp breath. “Close, Roman.”

“I know,” he says with a breathless chuckle. “Come on now, let it go.”

Your eyes roll back as you focus on his fingers, on unravelling the tight knot in your stomach. You look up at Eric, whose eyes are flitting from your face to Roman’s and back again with a hungry longing that’s so fucking desperate that you lose it, tumbling over the edge and sobbing a garbled string of praises and pleas and thank yous, all mixed in with their names.

Roman fucks you through the aftershocks, only releasing your clit when you’re actually crying, and he buries his cock as deep as he can as he comes, coating your insides with the final claiming of the night, as it fucking should be.

Your knees give out and you drop heavily onto your stomach, turning your face to the side and pillowing your cheek on your arms as your eyes droop.

“Think we broke her.” Roman mutters, and you feel his familiar touch ghosting over your spine.

“You okay, princess?” Eric asks, and you feel his familiar, careful touch smoothing your hair away from your neck.

“Why do you call her that?” Roman snaps. “She isn’t a fucking princess.”

Eric sighs, and you try so, so hard to remain conscious, desperate to hear the ending of this conversation. “Roman, man. The fact that you can’t see just how fucking special she is, is exactly why you’re gunna lose her.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick.” Eric reaches out to smooth a stray lock of hair away from Roman’s face, and Roman hates the way his heart skips a beat at the casual affection. “But if she was mine? I’d worship her. All the time.”

“I love her.” Roman mumbles, tracing patterns on your bare skin. “I don’t think I can give her more than that.”

“And that’s been enough for a long time.” Eric says carefully. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

The two men sit in silence for a moment, caressing your skin and your hair as you're lulled into sleep.

“I’d give you this.”

Eric’s brows furrow as he looks at the pinched desperation on Roman’s face.

“Give me what?”

Roman’s fingers glide down your spine, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. “We could do this. Together, I mean. Not all the time, but-“

“That’s fucked up, Godfrey.” Eric hates that he’s considering it.

“Don’t take her from me.” Roman’s bottom lip juts out in an absurd, pathetic pout. “I know she’s too good for me. I know I’m not good, and I do shitty things and I don’t fuckin know why I do them. But don’t take her from me, Eric.”

Eric can’t believe he’s feeling sorry for Roman fucking Godfrey, but the man looks so broken and pathetic as he pleads, his big green eyes unblinking and miserable. “She’s not a thing, man. I can’t take her. But I won’t stop her if she wants to leave you.”

Roman hangs his head. “Then you should get the fuck out of my house.” When he lifts his face to Eric’s the mean, hard set of his expression is back and Eric feels his spine straightening with the challenge of it. “And if I catch you sniffing around my girlfriend again I’ll kill you myself. Nobody’d miss a junkie street rat anyway.”

Eric swallows, his knuckles curling into his fists, but then you mumble something in your sleep, your pretty mouth curving up into a soft smile, and Eric sags. He isn’t going to beat Roman Godfrey into a bloody pulp, even if he deserves it. Because for an inexplicable reason Eric can’t figure out, you love the bastard. And until he can convince you that loving Roman Godfrey is a bad habit, he’ll have to play nice. He’ll have to play the game.

So he slips off the couch, rebuttoning his jeans and allowing himself one last look at how sweet and soft and warm you look curled up against a man who doesn’t deserve any of it. “She said you’d switched supplier.”

Roman shrugs.

“I just got a shipment of pills like you wouldn’t believe. Come by if you want a freebie.”

Roman shrugs again, but there’s a spark of interest in his eyes that Eric recognizes. Addicts know addicts, and he’s certain he’ll be seeing Roman Godfrey, and by extension you again very soon.

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard @a-differentbrandof-beans @scarredsgard

[thedevotchka]

Hii, I had another idea for a Roman shot where reader gets a new lingerie set and is excited to show Roman and he gets super turned on and stuff and he can’t wait so he rips her panties but then reader gets pouty and annoyed? So now he has to make it up to her. Idk feel free to adjust, but lots of lovee xxx

Pretty in Pink (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: You’re excited to show Roman your new lingerie set when he gets home, certain it’ll cheer him up after a long day at the office. You’re very, very right.

Word Count: 3266

Warnings: NSFW, hand stuff, oral sex f!receiving, PiV sex

A/N: I’m sorry it took me soooo long to get to this request but thank you so much for sending it! I really enjoyed writing something cute for Roman.

MDNI, fic under the cut

You twirl in the mirror, admiring the soft flow of tulle and lace over your curves from every angle. The assistant peeks her head around the curtain and hums approvingly. “A perfect fit.”

You meet her eyes in the mirror and smile. “I think my boyfriend will really like it.”

“He’d be crazy not to. Just make sure he doesn’t pull on the straps too hard. This piece isn’t as… robust as the garments we usually charge to Mr Godfrey’s account.”

You flush, thinking about the assortment of thickly banded teddies and corsets and bras Roman has picked out for you in the past. Everything black, often leather and lace. One particularly vicious-looking corset studded with little steel spikes that he likes to feel needling against his balls when he fucks your tits.

You press your legs together, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth. “He might… this might be a little too…”

“No.” The assistant says firmly. “Men like variety. For most couples, the other items would be spicing it up. For Mr Godfrey… this is different. This will surprise him.”

You nod, running your fingertips down the carefully embroidered butterflies on the floaty bodice. “He might laugh at me.”

The woman scoffs. “Honey, if a red-blooded man sees you in this and laughs, I’d be questioning more than his taste in lingerie.”

*

The lights are off when Roman gets home, and he drops his bag to the floor beside the door with a sigh. He’d missed dinner, and the leftovers he knows you’ll have put in the fridge hold little appeal. He’s cold, cold from being stuck in the clinical environment of the White Tower for much too long, enduring meetings and emails and mindless office chatter whilst you wandered around his home, curled up in his bed.

You’d sent him pictures today. You didn’t do that all the time, like you were afraid your constant contact would bother him, and Roman had never corrected you on that even though he missed you almost all the time.

But you’d sent him pictures today, and every new image had clenched at his heart and sent throbs of desire through his cock. Your morning tea, sunning on his counter. The little moustache of cappuccino foam on your pretty mouth as you took a selfie in the coffee shop in town. And then a picture of your pretty, delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of a very familiar bag from Roman’s favourite store. He’d know the elegant black bag with the embossed golden script anywhere, and his cock had perked up at the sight of it. You’d captioned it simply ‘come home to us’ and Roman hadn’t been able to think about anything else for the rest of the day.

He slips his shoes off and pads silently upstairs, following the waxy scent of candles and the sound of soft acoustic pop filtering out of the bedroom. His breath hitches as he pushes the door open, but you’re not on the bed. The sheets are rumpled like you’d just vacated it, and Roman crosses the room and sinks down onto the still-warm mattress, running his fingers over the pillow that smells like your perfume.

“Is that you, Roman?” You call from the adjoining bathroom, and Roman sighs.

“Yeah. Sorry I’m so late.”

“It’s okay.”

“I kept fucking things up.” He says, loosening his tie before pulling it from the collar of his shirt. “You sent me that picture and I checked out.”

He hears your giggle echoing in the bathroom and feels a stupid smile spreading over his face.

“Should I say I’m sorry?”

“No.” He unbuttons his shirt, his cock twitching and thickening at just the memory of the photo like he’s developed an overwhelming pavlovian response to that fucking store.

“Good, because I’m not.”

“You gunna come out and show me what you bought, or am I going to have to come in there?”

“I…” you break off, and Roman tenses at the sudden shift in your tone, even when you’ve only uttered a single syllable. “I bought something different.”

“Okay,” Roman says slowly, shrugging out of his shirt and rubbing his palm absently over his hardening cock to relieve some of the pressure. “There isn’t anything you could have bought in there that I won’t like.”

You huff a laugh. “Not even a monster strap-on?”

Roman almost chokes on his own surprised laugh, though the thought of you bending him over and railing him isn’t as unappealing as he expects it to be. “Did you buy a monster strap-on?”

You sigh loudly, cracking the door open and poking your head out. “Worse.”

“Worse,” he mumbles, palming himself harder as he takes in your artfully styled ‘messy’ hair and the soft warmth of your skin. “Color me intrigued.”

“Promise not to laugh.”

You sound shy, and Roman’s heart throbs along with his cock. “Scouts honor.” He holds up three fingers, and you sigh before pushing the door wide and stepping out.

You brace for the laughter, the teasing, but it doesn’t come. Roman doesn’t make any sound at all, and you open your eyes to find him frozen, unblinking eyes fixed on you. “Well don’t say nothing. That’s worse.” You mumble, fiddling with the delicate hem of the teddy where it brushes against your thigh. “Roman.”

He blinks, shaking his head. “Baby.” The word comes out low and strangled. “It’s pink.”

You feel your cheeks heat as you bite your bottom lip into your mouth. “I know you like black, but I thought-“

Roman is up and across the room before you have a chance to finish the thought, his hands searing against your skin through the fabric as he pushes you back against the wall. “I like this.”

He dips his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck as his fingers roam over the floaty fabric covering your body. He finds the hem of the nightdress and slips underneath, moaning against your skin at the softness of your stomach as he brushes over the underside of your breasts.

“I thought… I was worried that you’d think,” you mumble, breaking off with a gasp as Roman presses his stiff cock against you, prominent even through the double barrier of his pants and boxers.

“You thought what?” He asks, lips swollen as he pulls away to rake his eyes over your body. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking hot.”

You flush, arching away from the wall and reaching to rub your hand over the bulge in his pants. “I was worried you’d think it was dumb. Like, babyish.”

Roman scoffs, eyes darkening as he watches you fondle his cock. “Babyish?” His hips tilt forward against your hand and a soft moan slips past his lips. “You look like a virgin. Like a… fucking slutty virgin.”

You lick your lips, slipping your free hand under your nightgown to tease against the soaked lace of your own panties. “You make me so wet.”

Roman groans, knocking your hand away from his cock as he reaches for your face with both hands and pushes his tongue into your mouth. You slip a finger past the barrier of your underwear and find the swollen bud of your clit, caressing against it with light little touches that have you whimpering into his mouth.

He pulls back a little, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’re still touching yourself? You that desperate for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper, dropping all pretence as pleasure washes through you. “I need you. I needed you all day.”

Roman hums, stepping back enough to watch the frantic movement of your hand in your underwear. “You look so pure,” he groans, lowering slowly to his knees until his face is just inches from your covered core. “But you’re so fucking filthy for me.”

You whine, reaching your free hand to cup his jaw. “Please, Roman.”

He licks his lips, pupils blown so wide his eyes are almost black. “You want me to touch you? Taste you?”

You nod, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. “Please.”

Roman reaches for you, pushing the hem of your nightgown up before carefully taking your wrist and pulling your hand away from your pussy. “I can’t promise these little panties are gunna survive the night.”

You moan, your head dropping back against the wall. “That’s okay. I… that’s okay.”

Roman hums, hooking his fingers into the thin waistband and tugging. The panties don’t move, not with the string of the thong wedged in your ass and your slick sticking the lace to your folds. “Fuck, look at this.” He traces his fingers over the soaked fabric. “I’ve never been jealous of underwear before.”

You giggle, a drunk, hysterical little sound, and Roman flashes you a feral grin before he dips his head under your floaty skirt and sucks the soaked fabric into his mouth and between his teeth.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation of his breath so close to your sensitive core, and you fist his hair. “Please, Roman.”

He huffs against you as he pulls back, and there’s a stretch, a sharp sting as the straps securing your underwear cut against your soft flesh. And then a snap. Roman rocks back, emerging from beneath your skirt with your panties still secured in his teeth.

“Fuck, Roman,” you gasp, releasing his hair to rub at the chafe mark on your hip. “That hurt.”

Roman drops your panties into his hand, pocketing them before leaning back in and kissing your clit. “Sorry, sweetheart.” The smirk on his face suggests he’s not sorry at all, and you roll your eyes as he latches his lips to your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Roman,” you whisper, fingers threading back into his hair to pull him close you as you roll your hips against his face. “God, please don’t stop.”

Roman grunts in affirmation, pushing two fingers into you without warning and curling his fingers back towards himself in a fluttering motion. You feel your arousal slicking his face, drenching him, but his eyes are wide and dark and glassy as he looks up at you through his lashes, and your clit throbs incessantly at the delicious sight of him.

He pulls away long enough to mumble a “come for me,” before licking you aggressively in long, wide stripes, encouraging the friction as you rock against his face. It doesn’t take long for the coil of pleasure in your stomach to tighten into an unbearable tension, and your legs shake as your release washes through you with a cry of his name.

Roman swallows every drop of you greedily, mercilessly sucking and licking and nipping at your clit as you twitch first towards him and then away, pressing your ass back against the wall to escape the overstimulation.

“Roman please,” you whimper, pulling on his hair harder than you ever have before. “Please stop.”

Roman moans against you at the sharp tug against his hair, his cock twitching in the confines of his pants at the pain. He pulls away, looking up at you with big, innocent eyes. “Too much?”

“Too much.” You agree with a huff, “And you broke my panties.”

Roman’s smile morphs into a smirk as he pushes to a stand, wiping his mouth with his palm and using the slick to rub over the bulge in his pants. “Sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t help it. It’s just all so… pink.”

You feel your cheeks heat, and your fingers return to toying with the gauzy hem of the teddy. “Too pink?”

“Too pretty,” he hums, dropping his big hands to your waist and turning you to walk you backwards towards the edge of the bed. “Too distracting. You think I’d be able to go to work every morning if you looked like this all the time?”

“Roman,” you sigh. “You don’t go to work half the time anyway.”

Roman winks, pushing you until your knees hit the mattress and you drop onto your back with a little gasp.

“Then I really can’t afford to stop going the other half of the time, can I? We’ll be out on the street. No more fancy pink lingerie for either of us.”

A picture of him wearing your pretty pink teddy and thong flashes in your mind, and you can’t stop the little bubble of laughter from spilling out.

“What?” He asks, his own smile indulgent and soft.

“You wanna wear it after me? I’m not sure you’ve got the tits for it.”

Roman’s grin pulls lopsided as he drops over you, pushing your legs apart and kneeling between them as he works his belt free. “I think I could rock it. You’re always saying I got a nice ass.”

You hum, lifting your leg to graze your shin against his ass as he shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees and settles against you. “You do have a nice ass, Roman.”

Roman thinks again about the joke you made earlier, and his cock leaks fresh precum at the thought of you pushing your fingers into his ass. Maybe something to explore, maybe not.

“You look like a fuckin angel,” he murmurs, taking in every perfect, pretty inch of you. Your hair rests on the pillow like a halo, and you’re looking at him with soft, hungry eyes, and Roman positions his cock and sinks into you without ever taking his eyes off your face. Your lips part in an ‘o’ as he bottoms out, your pupils expanding and your breath catching in your throat as he fills you completely, and Roman knows you love him.

You tell him all the time, but he’s so used to people saying one thing and doing another, or pretending to like him so they could get to his money or his drugs or his cousin. But your pupils expand when you look at him, and your heartrate picks up. He can hear it, and you can’t fake that.

He pulls half out and pushes back in slowly, relishing in how your eyes flutter closed and you sigh, your hands lacing behind his head. “Roman,” you whisper. “Rome, you feel so good.”

Roman dips his head and presses his lips to yours, bringing one hand down the front of your little nightgown to trace the carefully embroidered butterflies covering your stomach. You shiver and whimper with each brush of his fingertips, and Roman wants to send the designer a fruit basket. “So pretty,” he coos, voice low as his hips snap against you faster and harder. “My pretty girl. Pretty in pink.”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, leaving little indents in the pillow of it, and Roman’s mouth waters as he traces along the silky edge of the fabric and lower to rub gently at your clit. “No, no, no,” you whine. “No, I can’t again, please.”

Roman takes your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the flesh before laving his tongue over the hurt and releasing you. “Yeah you can. Gimme one more.”

“You… it hurts.” There are tears in your eyes, but your pussy flutters erratically around his cock and Roman knows your close. Knows this doe-eyed babydoll act is all part of it.

“I know,” he coos. “You’re doing so good for me. Look how pretty you are, sweetheart. Dressed up like a little virgin for me? You wanna…” he groans as you clamp down hard, almost trapping him inside you. “You wanna make me… come.” He grits out. “Shit, shit baby.”

You release your muscles, batting your eyelashes at him. “You ruined my panties.”

“I always…” Roman punctuates his words with hard, brutal thrusts, fucking right up against your cervix. “Ruin your panties. Or…” he pinches your clit between two fingers and you buck violently into his hand, angling his cock down so his length is dragged against your g-spot with every thrust. “You ruin them… for me.”

You come with a sob, your overstimulated body on fire as your clit spasms under his fingers and your muscles milk Roman’s cock so forcefully he actually sees stars.

He buries himself as deeply inside you as he can, shooting his release against your insides as you try to swallow him whole, your fingers clawing through his hair with a delicious sting that heightens every moment of his orgasm.

He’s shaking when he pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, and you’re so fucked out you can’t curl up against him like you usually would. Roman waits, his arm tingling with the anticipation of holding you, but unease begins to settle in his stomach the longer you lie there silently. “You really pissed about the panties?”

You swallow, considering this. There’s real apprehension in his voice, and that’s so rare from Roman Godfrey that you decide to play with him, just a little bit.

“They were nice. I really liked them.”

“I made you cum twice.”

You turn your head to the side to fix him with what you hope is a condescending look. “They were my favorites.”

“You bought them today.” He argues, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “How could they be your favorites if you bought them today?”

“I loved them.” You say, pouting your bottom lip out. “I loved them and you broke them.”

Roman hums, catching on to the game and running his free hand down your side to hitch your teddy up around your hips. “I think you look better without them.”

“I can’t wear this without the thong, Roman. It’s a set.”

“I’ll buy you a replacement.”

You lick your lips, eyes sparkling. “More pink?”

Roman rolls his eyes, grinning indulgently at you. “Any color you want, sweetheart. I’ll buy out the damn store and you can put on a private runway show for me.”

You twist your mouth to the side, and Roman can’t stop himself from lacing his hand into your hair, just to feel the silk of it between his fingers.

You lean into it, shimmying up the bed until you’re close enough to brush the tip of your nose against his own. “I’d never get through all the outfits without you ripping them to shreds with your teeth.”

Roman’s cock twitches at the low, teasing tone to your voice. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re an animal, Godfrey.”

Roman leans in and captures your lips with his own, coaxing your mouth open so he can glide his tongue against yours. You moan softly, pressing your body against his and feeling the growing interest as his cock thickens against your stomach.

Roman pulls away first, glancing down to where you’ve curled your hand around his cock. “I’m the animal? You’re insatiable. You’re a succubus. A demon, a-“

You cut him off with a kiss and a twist of your wrist over the head of his cock, and Roman gasps into your mouth.

“I’m all those things for you,” you whisper against his mouth, swiping precum and your drying arousal from his tip and jerking it down his length. “But I look fucking pretty in pink, don’t I?”

Roman huffs a laugh as his hips buck into your hand, and he feels an overwhelming, all-encompassing need to marry you. “Fucking pretty,” he says instead, tickling his fingers against your scalp and keeping your mouth close to his as you work his cock with your slutty, perfect hand. It’s all he’s got right now, all he can afford to say, and it’ll have to do. For now, at least.

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard @a-differentbrandof-beans @scarredsgard

[thedevotchka]

Hi! Can you do NSFW Alphabet with Simon, like you do with Bill's Skarsgard characters? If you're busy or uncomfortable with this, just ignore this>

NSFW Alphabet - Simon (I rymden finns inga känslor)

MDNI, fic under the cut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Okay so Simon really wishes he could do this part properly. He’ll rush to get you a damp towel and a glass of water but he can’t hold you right after. He needs to retreat for a while, and you say you’re fine with that, but Simon worries. 

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

There isn’t any part of you that Simon doesn’t like, but he’s learned to really enjoy your hands on him. Where touch usually makes him itch, yours is grounding. He reaches for your hand unconsciously all the time, now. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s messy. Simons load is always substantial, and he really hates when it covers his skin or stains his clothes. But the sight of you licking it off your fingers and moaning like you like the taste lives rent-free in his brain at all times. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is it a dirty secret if he’s not ashamed of it? Simon keeps notes. He has a whole notebook full of you, notes on every single thing you’ve ever said or done, in and out of the bedroom. He’s writing himself an instruction manual on how to be your boyfriend and he’s not sure how you’d feel about it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you? Simon hadn’t even thought about sex outside of bio class. But he’s willing to try almost anything you suggest, and his inexperience is kinda hot. 

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Simon is a missionary boy, through and through. He’s getting better at having you on top of him, and he doesn’t mind taking you from behind if you ask, but it’s easier for him if he can see your face and be sure you’re happy. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simon has a very practical sense of humour, but not at all during sex. He’s too focused on getting everything right and not blowing his load before you’re ready. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Simon doesn’t know he’s supposed to do anything down there. He’s clean all the time of course but you just work around the hair. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

People might look at Simon and assume he isn’t romantic, but that isn’t true. He doesn’t always have the words to explain how he feels about you, but he pushes his own boundaries constantly to show you how much he cares. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you, Simon almost never did it. He didn’t like the tight grip he needed to get there and he really hated the mess. But since you came along and invaded his every waking thought he’s hard almost every day and he needs to jack off to get through it. Still doesn’t enjoy it much, though. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Simon wants to put you in his ship. He doesn’t know if that’s considered a kink, really, but he wants to put you in there and close the lid and hold it down until you beg him to let you out. He’d take that same scenario in reverse too, if he thought you were open to it. 

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Simon is a creature of habit, and he’s most comfortable in his own bed when Sam’s away or yours when he isn’t. He knows the layout of your bathroom cabinet, and that stops him fumbling when his brain has switched off. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, you, and more you. Your hand on his thigh, the way you lick your lips when you talk. The smell of your hair when you sit next to him during movie night. He’s half-hard whenever you’re in the room, and he’d be embarrassed if you didn’t constantly tell him how hot it was. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t let you sit on his face. You haven’t asked, but he went through your search history when you were in the shower once and you’d watched videos on it. Maybe one day. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Simon used to hate blowjobs. Well, okay, no he didn’t. He loved the feeling, but there was something so gross about all that spit. But cumming down your throat or feeling your tongue trace his sensitive tip is as close to perfection as Simon can imagine. 

Simon isn’t very good at giving you oral. He wants to, but being so overwhelmed by everything down there sends him into a meltdown. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Simon is always quicker than he'd like to be. He’s watched the romance movies and the guys always take their time, make the girl so hot she begs for it, and Simon would like to do that, but the moment he’s inside you he can’t stop himself from fucking you like it’s his first time, every time. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Simon doesn’t know how to fuck you slowly, and sometimes he’s so desperate for you that he just ruts his erection against you and hopes you understand. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Everything Simon does with you is an experiment, and there’s always a risk that it’ll go wrong. But he trusts you implicitly, and he knows you’d never encourage him to do something that would hurt him. And so far, everything has been amazing. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Simon can’t hold off once you get your hand or your mouth or your pussy on him. But what he lacks in stamina he makes up in thoroughness. He’s studied female pleasure extensively and he’ll spend hours touching you, even if he cums in his pants more than once whilst he coaxes orgasms out of you with his skilled fingers. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Like model trains? 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Simon would love to tease you. He’s tried a little bit, grinding his thigh against you until you leave a wet patch on his jeans or rubbing you through the soaked fabric of your panties for the entire duration of 2001: A Space Odyssey, but that’s more down to distraction than deliberate teasing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Oh, Simon is loud. He doesn’t know how to filter it, and you make him feel so, so good. He moans, he whimpers. He sobs as his release washes through him, hips fucking up unrestrained as you talk him through it every time. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Simon is almost always submissive, unless he gets mad. When a guy flirted with you in the video store he lost his mind, and he pinned you to the wall in the alley behind the store and fingered you so aggressively there were tears in your eyes as you came. Sometimes you piss him off like that just to see him take control. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Simon doesn’t work out, but he weighs himself meticulously every morning and his diet is strictly regimented. He has a nice body, tanned and lightly toned, and his cock is above average in every way. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Simon doesn’t see why you’d put yearning and sex drive together like that. His sex drive is new, and he wishes he wanted it less, actually. But yearning? He thinks about you all the time. His stomach aches with it. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It took a long time for Simon to invite you to sleep over, and he finds it tough to have you in his space when he needs to switch off. But you’re quiet and sweet and you don’t touch him unless he initiates it, and now Simon sleeps like a baby with you softly breathing beside him. 

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard @a-differentbrandof-beans

[cosmovies]

Is that what makes you fascinating?

[thedevotchka]

August & September WIPs

Okay sooooo the majority of you guys said you wanted the WIP list in advance, thank you so much for voting! It's reassuring to know I'm not being an annoying tease posting this, and it really does help keep me on track with writing them! I don't have a planned posting order, but I'll probably alternate a Roman with a non-Roman each week considering how many Roman ones there are. This should take us all the way to October...

Roman Godfrey x Reader - Hemlock Grove

Amnesia (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Roman Godfrey is a bully. Roman Godfrey hates you. Roman Godfrey is the reason you dropped out of school and spent five years in therapy. Headlights, too bright, and a crash. You wake up in the hospital with your husband beside you, promising to take care of you with tears in his pretty green eyes. There’s something… off about him, about all of it, but you can’t put your finger on exactly what’s wrong.

Pretty in Pink (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: You’re excited to show Roman your new lingerie set when he gets home, certain it’ll cheer him up after a long day at the office. You’re very, very right.

VOYER (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Being the new kid is hard, but it’s easier when you have a friend. You’re paired up with Peter Rumancek for everything, and you don’t mind one bit that whispers and stares follow him everywhere. That is until you draw the attention of Roman Godfrey and not only can you not shake him off, but you also can’t seem to get anybody to see how dangerous he is, either.

SOMNO (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Roman’s had enough. Every time his eyes close and he’s almost asleep you talk or you sigh or you nudge him. He’s sick of your sleepy voice whining about how tired you are, like being his little trophy girlfriend is so goddamn tiring. But he loves you, and you’re cute and innocent when you’re drowsy, and Roman knows a sure-fire way to get you tired enough to sleep.

Trust is a two-way street (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Cameras flash, champagne pops. It’s the happiest moment of your life, with Roman down on one knee in front of your entire family. Until your golden sister announces she’s pregnant with your new fiancés baby, that is.

Like Candy (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Roman feels like a whore in church, sitting on your bed amongst your plushies. You literally bounce from place to place, showing him your sparkly headbands and your lip balm collection and your fucking cat, like the hissing fluffball in your arms is the pussy he came to see. Bending you over your little pink desk isn’t going to work, so Roman invites you to play a game instead.

Take me to Paris (Eric Draven x Reader x Roman Godfrey)

Summary: The final part to Three’s Company and A King Dethroned. It’s been a month since you and Eric had taught Roman Godfrey a lesson, and Eric hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for a single moment. He knows it’s dumb, he knows it’s borderline suicidal in fact, but his stupid heart and stupider cock lead him right to your door anyway.

Crawling Inside (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Roman Godfrey is your boyfriend. The bruises on your wrists never heal, the bitemarks on your chest blacken and multiply, and Roman holds your hand and kisses each one and tells you you’re beautiful. You wish you could sleep. You wish you could believe him.

Through the Trees (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: It isn’t a surprise that somebody wanted to kill Roman Godfrey. You’re more surprised that it had taken eighteen years for somebody to try. The problem is that when you try to sacrifice an Upir to the devil, the thing that crawls out of the forest is way, way worse than your run-of-the-mill bloodsucker. Based on Jennifers Body.

Twenty Minutes (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: After a bet goes wrong during a routine tutoring session you find yourself in Roman Godfrey’s bed. It’s all Roman’s wanted for months and he has twenty minutes to show you exactly how good it feels to take on the bad guy.

The Good Wife (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Roman says being a housewife is easy. Roman says he’d love to switch places with you. Between burned lasagna and stained carpets, Roman will live to regret it.

Of the Flesh (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: You’re not like other girls. That might sound like a cliché, and yeah, usually it is. But even the terrifying Dr Pryce feels a chill when you’re in his lab, and people can’t look you in the eye in the street, and Roman Godfrey takes one look at your wrongness and says: “Dibs.”

Eric Draven x Reader - The Crow

Every Inch (Eric Draven x Reader)

Summary: It’s your first time, and you think your boyfriend might actually be more nervous than you. When he fixes you with his intense gaze and asks you what you think you might like, you don’t imagine he’ll be able fulfil your desires so thoroughly, but then again there’s nobody like Eric Draven.

Like a Bird from a Worm (Crow!Eric Draven x Reader x Roman Godfrey)

Summary: Good and Evil. Black and White. Things are simple for Eric since surrendering his freedom to serve the balance. You see things differently, and despite your status as a superhero, you’re still against the execution of criminals without due process. So when Roman Godfrey, CEO Billionaire of Godfrey Industries and rumored supervillain lands on The Crow’s radar, you can’t stop yourself from intervening.

Full Throttle (Eric Draven x Reader)

Summary: You’re tired. The club was too loud, but the tips weighing down your bag take the sting out of the headache building behind your eyes. You step into the silent street, look left, right, left before crossing… and you’re almost mowed down by a bike that had appeared from nowhere. You flip him off and the guy turns around, looping back to pull up alongside you. You’re about to cuss him out when he takes his helmet off and all thought is erased from your brain by how goddamn hot he is.

Willard Russell x Reader - The devil all the time

Possession is nine-tenths of the law (Willard Russell x Reader)

Summary: Willard Russell has a staring problem. Folks say it’s just because he came back different after the war, that he has a couple of screws loose these days. But there’s nothing loose in the way he watches you. When Willard makes it abundantly clear that he’s interested there isn’t a damn thing anybody can do to stop him, and you’re not sure you’d want them to, anyhow.

Don’t know what you got (til it’s gone) (Willard Russell x Reader)

Summary: Willard reluctantly agrees to marry a girl from his mother’s church because he’s sick of the way she hovers over him like he’s about to break. You’re pretty, and sweet in that innocent, homegrown way Willard’s never been able to understand. You drag him on dates, and he sullenly endures them. It shouldn’t be a surprise when you call off the engagement, but watching you walk away from him is the single worst moment of Willard Russell’s life.  

A Whole Mess of Young’uns Willard Russell x Reader)

Summary: Willard is lying in the goddamn gutter when he meets the love of his life. He picks himself up, quits the bottle and becomes a man worthy of your affection. He’s ready to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of – the house, the dog, and a whole mess of young’uns.

Insatiable (Willard Russell x Reader)

Summary: God was not with him in the Solomon Islands. God did not protect his friends from their deaths, but when Willard returns home and finds you soft and warm and waiting he knows that keeping you safe whilst he was gone is more than he could ever have hoped for. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, waiting for his wedding night to have you in the only way that counts, but he does it. The problem is that once he’s tasted you, there’s no force on heaven or earth that can make him stop.

Simon x Reader - I rymden finns inga känslor

NSFW Alphabet with Simon

Summary: I don’t know how well this will work for Simon, but I got the request so I’ll give it a go and then probably add it to the NSFW Alphabet post where the rest of the boys are.

Overstim (Simon x Reader)

Simon hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you jerked him off with your hand over his mouth. He’s desperate for more, and he’s willing to submit to whatever evil plans you have in mind for just a little more of your attention.

The Boy x Reader - Boy Kills World

BOYTOY (Boy x Reader)

Summary: He’s cute. Muscular and sharp and feral, and he’s tied to your chair. Glaring up at you from pretty green eyes, every inch of him rippling with fury. There’s little point in beating him, this boy has known nothing but cruelty his whole life, if the rumors of the shaman are to be believed. You decide to take a considerably more… creative approach to torturing this touch-starved virgin.

Bill Skarsgård x Reader - RPF

Playing Footsie (Bill Skarsgård x Reader)

Summary: You hadn’t seen Bill Skarsgård in five years, so sitting down opposite him at the Chanel Tribeca Festival Artists Dinner comes as a bit of a fucking shock. Heads will roll tomorrow, but for tonight, you’re stuck trying your best to ignore him whilst Bill does everything he can to work you up.

Hopelessly Devoted (Priest!Bill Skarsgård x Reader)

Summary: There is safety in the cloth. Purpose in the collar. Purity in the prayer. Father Skarsgård does everything he can to stay away from temptation, to stay away from the pretty girl in the front row on Sundays. But then you turn up in his office with tears in your eyes and confession on your lips, and Father Skarsgård is just Bill underneath all that piety.

Mark x Reader - Assassination Nation

Mary, Mary (Mark x Reader)

Summary: Salem High School is a lot like all the other high schools you’ve been enrolled in, but Mark isn’t like all the other boys and you’re willing to do what it takes to get him to notice you.

Mickey x Reader - Villains

Patience is a Virtue (Mickey x Reader)

Summary: After Mickey almost screw up another heist by pulling his gun too early, you decide to teach him a lesson on the importance of patience. Mickey doesn’t like cock warming, not at all, but he has very little say in the matter once he’s tied to your bed.

Eddie Barrish x Reader - Locked

All Your Gold (Eddie Barrish x Reader)

Summary: Privilege. It’s a word that’s followed you since the day you were born, and it’s never bothered you. Until you meet Eddie Barrish and for the first time ever you see how privilege can be a dirty word.

[thedevotchka]

The Good Wife (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: Roman says being a housewife is easy. Roman says he’d love to switch places with you. Between burned lasagna and stained carpets, Roman will live to regret it.

Word Count: 7002

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex m&f receiving, hand stuff, unprotected PiV sex, dub-con, mentions of breeding, sub/dom switch dynamics

MDNI, fic under the cut

Roman stares at the pink shirt balled in his fist with irritation etched onto every line of his perfect face. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you’d let Anna do the goddamn laundry like she wanted to.

“I didn’t even see it slip in, there was a-“

“Are you blind?”

You shut your mouth, swallowing hard as Roman’s steely green eyes lift to yours.

“Color blind, then?”

You shake your head a fraction. “No, I… I was distracted.”

“What,” he asks with a sigh, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “could possibly have distracted you when you have such an easy job a monkey could do it?”

Tears prickle behind your eyes, but at the smug smirk on his mouth and the amusement sparkling in his gaze you feel your stomach churn with something harder.

“It isn’t easy being locked up in this house, Roman.”

Roman’s shoulders square as he round the counter, stalking towards you with the coiled grace of a lion going in for the kill. “My mansion not good enough for you, princess?” His voice is low and soft, the tilt to his head deadly as he closes the distance. “My staff not bending over far enough to cater to your every fucking whim?” He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your face, and your eyelids flutter closed for a moment as heat radiates off his body. “You can’t get one simple task right while I’m working all day every day to provide this life for you?”

Your eyes snap open at that, and you roll them. You roll your eyes at your husband, and you realize the mistake just as his fingers lace into your hair. “Roman,” you whine as his knuckles tighten, tilting your face up. “That’s too hard.”

“You have no idea the kind of pressure I’m under.” He says slowly, his voice a low purr of sound as he lifts his freshly pink shirt and nuzzles it against your cheek. “People expect me to make decisions. To be a serious ballbuster. And you,” he runs the soft material under your nose, pushing your lips apart with two cotton-clad fingers and pressing the fabric back against your tongue until you gag, “think I can do all of that in a pink fucking shirt?”

You bite down on his fingers, and Roman hums as your teeth sink against his knuckles. He withdraws them, thumb rubbing over the wet patch of your saliva darkening the shirt. “It was an accident. Red thong.”

His lips quirk into an almost smile before he forces his face into a scowl. “You need to be more careful then.”

“It’s one shirt.”

“That I pay for. You have no fucking concept of how much things cost, do you? Sitting here ordering shit on Amazon, walking around in you little fucking house dresses. Charmed fucking life.”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides. “You wanted this. You asked me to give up my career, to move away from my family and be your little housewife. I would have been just fine paying my share and it’s totally unreasonable of you to pretend you don’t know that.”

Roman scoffs, running his fingers through his hair in the way he knows distracts you. “I’m not saying I want you to go out and get a job.” His voice is liquid silk as he cups your jaw, fingers sliding into the hair behind your ear as he dips his face close. His lips brush against yours in an agonizingly soft caress. “I just expect a little gratitude when I come home, you know?”

You make a choked sound that is half protest, half moan as Roman’s tongue glides along your bottom lip and he pushes his way into your mouth, coaxing you into a slow, deep kiss. You let yourself go limp against him, waiting for the hand on your jaw to tighten, to push down. When it does you sink to your knees without complaint, licking your lips and biting your tongue to encourage your mouth to fill with saliva as Roman pulls his stiff cock from the confines of his pants and guides your face towards him.

You wrap your lips obediently around his tip, laving lightly at the salty musk of his precum before the hand on your jaw pulls you closer and his hips buck against your face to push his cock into your throat. “There you go,” he sighs, bracing his free hand on the counter. He still has the shirt wrapped around his fist, and you stare at it blurring in and out of focus as you bob your head back and forth on his length. “That’s how you say thank you.”

You hum against him, sending little shockwaves through his cock, and Roman has to grit his teeth to stop himself from moaning at how hot and wet and tight your throat always is for him. You desperately want to brace your hands on his thighs, but you know you can’t do it. He’d be furious if he thought you were trying to pull back, and the hand on your jaw would drop to your throat and that was always infinitely rougher than you could really take.

You curl your thumb into your palm and tighten your core muscles, holding yourself upright as best you can as Roman fucks up against your face, hips snapping a brutal rhythm as he drives his cock down your throat over and over again.

You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes as your throat tries to push him out, and Roman sinks his teeth into his bottom lip hard enough to puncture the soft flesh. He sucks his lip into his mouth, tongue pushing against the torn flesh as spurts of salty warm blood fill his mouth and he cums with a strangled groan, spilling his release down your throat as he swallows a heady mouthful of blood.

You focus on breathing through it as your nose is mashed against the rough thatch of hair on his pubic bone, swallowing reflexively around the cock in your throat as his cum drips down into your stomach. Roman pulls away with a little groan of protest, tucking his cock away and rubbing his thumb over your cum-slick lips. “Now apologize.”

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry about the laundry, Roman.”

“Yeah,” he coos, bending down to wrap an arm around your waist and hauling you to your feet. You expect him to let you go but he doesn’t, spinning you instead to press your back against his chest as his arms tighten around your middle and he dips his lips to your ear. “Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll be a whole lot less nice to you.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and adrenaline turns your legs to water, but there’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say to diffuse him when he’s in one of these moods. Your husband could be sweet and earnest and thoroughly wonderful at times, but he was spoiled and volatile and unpredictable, too. You’d accepted both sides of him a long time ago when you’d chosen to love him anyway, and this was the consequence of that. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, after all.

The idea comes to you later that night, when you’re brushing your teeth and staring at the grimy ring where Roman leaves his toothbrush. He never wipes the counter, and spit-slick toothpaste always pools on the side where he doesn’t bother to rinse it off. You wipe up every other day but it never makes a difference.

You rinse the countertop and finish your nighttime skincare before slipping into bed beside your husband. He’s flicking through some board papers on his tablet, one eye darting to the football game playing on his phone every couple of seconds. “Roman.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I wanna make a bet.”

Roman flicks the little switch on the side of his tablet and tosses it onto his nightstand, turning to you with a smirk. “What have you got to barter with?”

You lick over your lips, eyes dragging down Roman’s body. “Whatever you want.”

His smirk darkens, head tilting to the side as he undresses you with his eyes. “You already give me whatever I want.”

You huff, folding your arms over your chest in a way that pushes your tits against your nightgown. “Roman.”

“Okay.” He hums, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “What’s the bet?”

You swallow around a lump in your throat. “You say that being a housewife is easy.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“So I propose that… we switch places. For two weeks.”

The little smile on his face curls into a cruel smirk. “You think you could run Godfrey Industries for two weeks without fucking it up?”

“Yes. I ran an entire department before I married you, remember.”

“Oh, sure. But this is different baby, surely you see that? It would be… wildly irresponsible of me to entrust the whole company to someone so unqualified, no matter how hot you’d look in a little power-suit.”

“I’m more qualified than you.” The words blurt out in your own defense, and Roman’s eyes narrow.

“Community college for hospitality management doesn’t scream S&P500.”

“Least I went to college.” Your voice is quiet, and you wince through the words even as you say them. Shut up, shut up, shut up before he gets mad.

But Roman doesn’t. A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he remains otherwise composed, wide green eyes flicking over you as he runs through scenarios in his head.

“If you fuck it up and have to come to me before the two weeks is up, we’re having a baby.”

Your heart stutters erratically in your chest. “If I don’t, or if you call it off early… I get one night off a week.”

He frowns. “Night off from what? From me?”

“A night to do whatever I want. To go out with friends or to just read alone in the study. No responsibilities.”

Roman bites on his bottom lip. “One night a week.”

“Just one,” you soothe, climbing into his lap and lacing your fingers into his hair. “Just to do boring girl stuff that you’d hate anyway.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips. “I can live with that.”

You hum, shifting against his crotch through his pajama pants until you feel his cock thicken and twitch beneath you. “We have a deal, then?”

Roman’s hands drop to your hips, encouraging you to press down against him as he jerks his hips up. “Yeah, baby. Try not to lose your mind when you see me being all-“ he moans, fingers grappling with the edge of your nightgown and pulling it up over your ass. “Domestic and shit.”

You roll your eyes, dipping your head to press your lips to his. “I’ll do my best, Roman.”

Your first day as temporary CEO of Godfrey Industries goes better than you could have hoped. Even though you’re twenty minutes late, and you stumble into the building with messy hair and Roman’s cum drying on the back of your thighs from where he’d pinned you against the car and refused to let you go until he’d fucked you right there on the hood of your SUV. People are nice, and for the most part you’re expected to sit in Roman’s office and sign off on reports.

“He doesn’t usually…” Roman’s assistant rubs the back of his head. “Mr Godfrey doesn’t read them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you?”

The assistant flushes. “Yes. I throw back anything I think he shouldn’t sign, point out mistakes when I see them.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Brown, ma’am.”

“You’re more qualified to do this job than my husband is.”

The man’s cheeks are flaming. “I wouldn’t… say that.”

“Well of course not, he’d have you murdered.” You lean over the desk, pushing the files back towards him. “Relax, kid. Mr Godfrey isn’t here, is he? I think you have potential to be much more than an assistant. Read these reports, just like you do for my husband, and come back with a summary.”

He collects the papers, nodding. “I’ll go over everything twice, I swear.”

You smile, leaning back in your chair as he shuffles out of the room. There’s a picture of you on Roman’s desk, and when the light catches the glass you can see the smudge of fingerprints where he strokes your face when he’s feeling anxious. You’re seized with a sudden wave of affection for him, and you whip out your phone to call home.

His voice is a bark of sound when he picks up. “What?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” You coo. “How’s it… going?” You can hear a loud beeping in the background. Smoke alarm.

“I can’t talk now.” He snaps. “I’m fucking busy.”

“Oh, okay.” You hum, relishing in the agitation leaking through the phone speaker. “I’ll let you get on with your day then. Love you.”

“Yeah,” he spits before hanging up.

You roll your eyes. If you’d answered the phone to him like that even once he’d have taken you over his knees and spanked your ass raw, but the rules had always been different for Roman Godfrey. At least until now, anyway.

*

The house smells like burned food when you arrive home, and you blink through a film of smoke as you step into the foyer. “Roman?”

You hear a clatter from the kitchen, followed by a frustrated “Fuck!” And you work hard to suppress your smirk as you wander further into the house.

“Honey, I’m home!” You sing, and he spins on his heel, eyes wide with shock.

“You’re early.”

You shake your head, nodding towards the clock on the wall above the counter. “It’s almost six.”

“It… can’t be.” He mumbles, squinting at the clock. “Well shit.”

“Something smells…” you trail off, and Roman fixes you with a withering glare.

“That thing is fucking broken.” He jabs a long finger at the stove.

You tilt your head. “You messed up the dinner, huh?”

He grits his teeth, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “The instructions said an hour ten. It’s been like forty minutes and the bird’s burnt to shit.”

You slip past him, squinting at the dials on the oven. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“What?” He demands, coming up behind you and leaning over to look. “Fuck did I do?”

“You set the timer right but not the temperature. Look, you’ve turned the dial to max heat.”

Roman makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “How was I supposed to know that?”

You press your lips into a line and turn, cupping his cheek. “You know, this really isn’t what I expect to come home to after a long day at the office.”

Roman’s eyes flash with something dangerous. “Very funny.”

You cluck your tongue, rubbing your thumb over his lips. “I expect dinner on the table and you on your knees like a good wife, Roman.”

He nips at the pad of your thumb. “I’m not your wife.”

“No.” You agree, pushing your thumb into his mouth to press against his tongue. “But you’ve burned dinner, and you look like shit. You know what time I get home from work, sweetheart. What could possibly have distracted you when you have such an easy job a monkey could do it?”

Roman’s eyes flicker closed, and he lowers himself awkwardly to his knees in front of you. You withdraw your thumb, tracing his lips with his own saliva.

“I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Yeah you will,” you coo. “Because I spent all day working so you can sit around the house all day on your pretty little ass, and the least you could do is be properly grateful, right?”

Roman’s lips part as you reach down to roll your skirt up over your hips, and he leans in to nuzzle his face against your damp panties with a desperate little sob.

Roman feels his stomach settle into something close to comfort as he hooks his finger into your underwear and pulls down past your knees. He’s been failing all day, at everything, but he knows this. He’s good at this, at burying his face against your slick and sucking your clit into his mouth and lapping at you until you cum against his mouth.

Your fingers tug and tease at his hair, nails scratching gently against his scalp, and Roman moans softly against your folds as he flicks his tongue against you with rough, precise strokes. “There you go,” you sigh. “That’s a good boy.”

Roman’s cock is almost painful he’s so hard, but he doesn’t dare to reach down to touch himself. He knows he’s lost this round, and that you’re being him to teach him a lesson. And he’d never let you touch yourself when he pushed you to your knees like this. Never.

You cum with a sultry, throaty groan, and Roman’s eyes roll back at the hot flood of your slick soaking his mouth as he swallows against you greedily. You step back on shaking legs, smearing your arousal over his lips with your thumb before sucking the digit into your own mouth.

“I’ll order pizza.” Roman says from the floor, and you nod.

“You do that. And clean this mess up, while you’re at it.”

*

Running a household is hard work, but by Thursday Roman thinks he’s gotten the hang of almost all of it. There’s a load of laundry sloshing away in the washer, and a pan of minced beef in tomato sauce bubbling on the stove, ready to be layered into a pan for lasagna.

He drops onto the couch with a beer in hand, feeling an ache deep in his bones that he’s wholly unused to. He flicks the TV on, settling back against the leather as he flits through cable channels until he settles on a rerun of some sitcom and he finally lets himself relax.

Roman is jolted from sleep by the sound of a high-pitched beeping, and he wonders for a moment when he changed his alarm tone. Then he inhales on smoke, and his eyes fly wide as reality settles in.

The beer in his hand drops to the floor as he scrambles off the couch, launching into the kitchen and pulling the blackened, dry pan of ruined meat off the heat. “Shit, shit, fuck,” he hisses as he drops it into the sink and it sizzles steam back into his face. His fingers throb with hurt from touching the red-hot handle and he sucks them into his mouth.

“Really, Roman.” Roman feels dread trickle down his spine at the sound of your voice. It had been good the last few days, greeting you at the door with a smug smirk on his face and taking your bag from you whilst you scanned the room for signs of fuckup. It had been good to watch your face fall into disappointment when you couldn’t find a single thing to criticize. It had been good to be a little bored, to feel a sense of anticipation as 5PM ticked by and he knew you’d be coming home to tell you about office drama and new initiatives.

“It wasn’t my fault.” He spins, trying his best to cover the ruined pan in the sink, but your eyes drop to the steaming mess anyway.

“No? Who else do we blame, if you’re here alone?”

Roman chews his bottom lip into his mouth. “I fell asleep.”

You hum, stepping close and taking his hand in your own. “You’re hurt.”

Roman swallows as you lift his hand to your mouth and press a light kiss to the singed tip of his finger. “It’s fine.”

“Sure,” you agree, tugging his hand to the sink and running it under the cold faucet. “My poor baby.”

Roman’s cock twitches at the sound of your voice, even if you’re mocking him just a little bit. It feels nice to be taken care of, to have your attention when he knows you spend all day surrounded by people demanding it from you. “How was work?”

“You know,” you sigh. “Same old, same old. Meetings, papers, responsibilities.” You dab his hand dry on a dishcloth and lean up to peck his cheek. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.”

“I did the laundry.” He says as though it’s the same thing. As though it isn’t a small miracle that he’d managed it. “Two loads already folded, one in the machine.”

You smile at him. “That’s good, Roman. I’m proud of you for getting at least that right.”

Roman’s cheeks heat. “I’ll order something.”

You tilt your head to the side. ““That I’ll pay for. You have no fucking concept of how much things cost, do you?”

Roman grits his teeth. “Careful.”

You smirk. “Or what?”

Roman swallows hard, feeling his cock twitch and his stomach flip over. “Just… you shouldn’t talk to me that way.”

“I’ll talk to you however I like.” You say with a shrug, turning your back on him and heading to the couch. “And bring me a beer.”

Roman doesn’t know why he does it, but his legs move all on their own as he obeys your command. You hadn’t even said please, and Roman replays all the times he’d said precisely the same thing to you over the last year of your marriage. It made him feel like shit.  

You’re sitting on the couch, fingers playing absently with a strand of your hair when he approaches, but you look up at him with narrowed eyes and Roman feels fresh dread settle over him as you tap your toe against the splash of his spilled beer on the hardwood floor.

“I was gunna clean that up.”

“Yeah? When?”

Roman sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and pushes it out through his teeth. “I got… I had to deal with the fucking dinner.”

“Well, you’re not dealing with that anymore, are you?”

Roman huffs, stomping into the kitchen to grab a cloth and returning to crouch beside you and soak up the spill. “You could have done this yourself.” He mutters.

You uncross your legs, your knees dropping either side of his face as Roman looks up at you. “I work hard all day, Roman. All you have to do is look after the house. It that really too much? You wanna tap out?”

For the first time in his life, Roman misses work. He misses his office and his big desk and scrolling endlessly on Instagram whilst pretending to look busy. He misses seeing other people, even if those people are simpering mouth-breathing idiots. But the thought of you all fat and full of his baby, the thought of another thing tying you to him stops him from bringing the game to an end.

“No.” He huffs, pushing your legs further apart and pressing a kiss to the front of your underwear. “Not a fucking chance.”

You sigh, relaxing against the couch as Roman lifts your legs to drop over his shoulders and he pulls your underwear to the side, burying his mouth against you like a good boy.  

*

“Die! Die! Die!” Roman hisses, fingers clicking rapidly over the buttons as he destroys yet another alien. He’s sprawled over the couch in his boxers, his third beer open on the coffee table and staining a ring into the wooden surface. There’s a German yelling at him through his headset, and Roman swears as he’s wiped out by an explosion to the left. “Fuck!” He yanks his headset off, throwing his controller onto the couch beside him. “Fucking assholes.”

You clear your throat, and Roman’s mouth curves into a smirk. “Oh, hey baby.”

“Don’t hey baby me, Roman. The house is a mess.”

Roman shrugs. “Dinner’s ready. Laundry’s done. Lay off me.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you show me?”

Roman rolls his eyes, sighing as he pushes off the couch. His lounge pants are slung low on his hips, revealing the sharp jutted V of muscles either side of his stomach, and you lick your lips as you follow him into the laundry room. “Like I said, I got through your fuckin shirts and-“ Roman breaks off, staring at the wet tangle of baby-blue clothes in the washer.

“You were saying?”

Roman’s mouth opens, then closes. Opens again. “I don’t know what happened.”

You tug a pair of your panties loose from the bundle, holding them up and wrinkling your nose. “You know I’m sure these were white yesterday.”

Roman drops the pile onto the washer, sifting through the fabric until he finds a singular navy sock wrapped in the center. “Shit.”

“You think this is acceptable?” You ask slowly. “You think it’s ok to sit on your ass all day playing stupid fucking games instead of taking care of things around here?”

Roman rolls his eyes. “You want me to eat you out? You don’t have to fucking scold me to get that you know.” He reaches for you, and you take a step back. The heat of righteous fury pounds your heart into a frenzy, and the bored arrogance on your husband’s face slips as his fingers close on nothing.

“I think you need an attitude adjustment, Roman.” You sink to the floor, parting your legs and beckoning him with a crooked finger. Roman swallows, dropping slowly to his knees between your legs and splaying his palms on your thighs.

“No,” you coo. “Turn around, back to me.”

Roman frowns, but his cock twitches in interested anticipation as he settles against your chest and you reach around his body to slip your hand into his pants. “Shit,” he huffs, hips lifting against your hand as you wrap your fingers around his cock and jerk him hard. “Woah.”

“You’re bad, Roman.” You murmur, dipping your head to press your chin to his shoulder. “You burn the dinner and you wreck the floors.”

“Slow down,” he stammers. “That’s… shit can you spit on it? Goddamn.”

You don’t let up, dragging the baby-blue dyed panties off the counter behind you and pushing the damp fabric into his mouth. “You’re a shit fucking wife, Roman.”

Your thumb rubs against his slit, dragging his precum over his frenulum before yanking hard on his cock again, and Roman whines against the gag in his mouth.

“You think you can eat me out and I’ll just forget about how fucking sloppy you are around the house?”

Roman groans, hips bucking away from you like there’s anywhere to go with your fist wrapped so tightly around his cock.

It actually hurts, the rough, dry friction of your skin on his, but you turn your head and press soft kisses to his neck and Roman cries against the soaked underwear in his mouth and he takes it. He tries to talk, not sure whether he’s begging you to stop or begging you to jerk him harder, but you speed up anyway, fingers flexing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

“You gunna cum for me?” You whisper into his ear, and Roman moans as his hips thrust erratically up into your hand. “There you go,” you coo, nipping at the corner of his jaw as his cock thickens and twitches in your hand. “That’s a good girl.”

Those words, those condescending, awful words are his undoing. Roman’s eyes roll back as he cums, shooting thick ropes over your fingers and soaking into his shirt, whimpers muffled by the damp gag of your panties in his mouth as he arches away and then slumps against you.

Your free hand lifts to his hair, raking your nails against his skull and teasing the strands away from his face. “It’s time for you to get a haircut,” you muse absently, and Roman nods, breathless, dazed.

“You have to be more careful with the laundry,” you coo, gently pulling the wet gag from his mouth.

Roman gasps, licking his tongue over his lips. “I think you gave me road rash on my fucking cock.”

You roll your eyes, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger and turning his head to press a kiss to his mouth. “You’ll live, sweetheart.”

*

You strut back down the corridor towards your office after lunch, ducking your head and smiling politely at the people behind their computers. Some avoid you, some look… apprehensive. You swallow around a lump of anxiety, shrugging off the feeling until your assistant darts out from behind his desk. “Mr. Godfrey is in your, uh his office.”

You frown. “Is he now?”

“He said to tell you, uh…”

“What?”

“Well, he said, his words exactly were nice try sweetheart, but it’s Monday. I’m sorry.”

You know he added the sorry. Roman would have delivered that line with a teasing, mean smirk. “That it’s… oh.” Your stomach flips over. Two weeks up. “Thank you. I’ll… uh… I’ll go see what he wants.”

The assistant offers you a pained smile. “I get the feeling we might not… be seeing you around as much now that he’s back. And I just wanted to say that you’ve done more for this company in two weeks than Mr. Godfrey did in a year. And you’ll be missed. For what it’s worth.”

You swallow around a lump in your throat. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

“But please don’t tell him I said so.” The assistant’s eyes widen with fear, and you feel a pang of shared understanding as you nod and push open the door to his office.

“There she is,” Roman claps his hands together, and you grit your teeth at the sight of him lounging back in his chair like he owns the place before you remember that he does.

“Roman.”

“It didn’t feel good to wake up without you beside me this morning.” He says slowly. The words sound earnest, but the dark smirk on his face tells you he’s playing a game. “I expected you to lay out my suit and make my coffee.”

“I… we didn’t discuss a handover process, and I had a meeting with the people from the synth lab at ten.”

“You mean I had a meeting. My assistant woulda caught me up on the calendar, baby. He’s a dumb fuck but he can read a goddamn meeting invite.”

You grit your teeth. “He isn’t a dumb fuck. He went to Brown.”

Something dangerous flashes in Roman’s eyes as he pushes away from the desk and prowls towards you. “You two get all cozy talking about how much better you both are for going to fucking college?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, and your nervous system kicks into overdrive as you reach for him. “It isn’t like that. I just mean… you could use him. He’s good.”

“Yeah?” Roman’s hands bracket your hips, fingers splaying over your skin and wrinkling the fabric of your dress. “You use him whilst I was slaving away over your laundry and your dinner at our house?”

“No, Roman.” You mumble, caressing your fingers against his cheek. “He read board papers. Helped with some minor decisions. I would never, you know it’s just you for me, I-“

“Shhh,” he coos, dipping his head to press a kiss to your forehead. “I know, baby. I know that.”

You sag against him, relief washing the anxiety from you for a brief, blissful moment before Roman’s fingers begin to walk down your hips and round to grope at your ass. “Roman, the windows.”

Roman flicks his eyes towards the glass walls of his office, and several pairs of eyes drop to desks. He smirks, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Nobody’s looking.”

You swallow, fisting his shirt in your sweaty palms. “Lets talk at home. Please.”

He hums, bending his knees to crawl his fingers up under your tight dress and brush over the frilled elastic of your panties. “What’s the rush? You were so desperate to be here, weren’t you?”

You whimper as his fingers brush against your core through the thin fabric, your body flushing with arousal at his touch. “I just thought… you were still sleeping, and I didn’t know if you’d want to just… carry on for a while.”

Roman huffs a laugh, pushing you away enough to meet your eyes. The cruelty in his sends a bolt of confused arousal through you. “You thought I’d let you carry on running my company into the ground and make fuck-eyes at my assistant? The bet was two weeks. It’s been two weeks.”

“I… I’ve made improvements here. A-ask anyone, ask Pryce! Look at the forecasts for-“

You break off with a squeak as Roman’s fingers lace into your hair and he drags you towards his desk. He kicks his chair viciously and it rolls away, crashing into the back wall as he manhandles you onto the desk and pushes a hand onto your spine to keep you flat against the glass. “I don’t give a fuck,” he coos, free hand curling around the hem of your skirt and pushing it up over your ass. “You coulda increased profits by a million percent and I’d still drag you back home.”

His palm drops flat onto your ass with a smack and you yelp. “You wanna know why?” He leans in, his body pressing yours harder to the desk, and you feel his breath on your neck at the same time his stiff cock grinds against your ass. “You wanna know?”

“Y-yes, Roman.” You gasp, and Roman pulls away from you just enough to yank down his zipper and tug his cock out to rub over the slick fabric of your panties.

“Because you’re mine. I don’t want my assistant eye-fucking you, or the useless fucking cunts in R&D staring at your ass in these pencil skirts like you’re a free woman. You’re mine.”

You whine as he pushes your underwear to the side and presses the leaking head of his cock against your entrance. “Say it.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry as you croak out the words. “I’m yours, Rom-ahhh,” your jaw goes slack as Roman pushes into you, giving you no time to adjust to the stretch of his size as he bottoms out and braces his hands on the desk either side of you.

“Yeah,” he huffs, pulling half out only to slam back in. “You’re mine. My little housewife.” He drops one hand to your hip, pinning you to the desk as he sets a brutal rhythm. “I gave you your two weeks, played your little game. Showed you how fucking easy you have it.”

You scoff even as your eyes roll back at the sharp pleasure-pain of his cock pummeling your insides. “Y-you messed up everything.”

Roman’s hand drops to your ass in a sharp slap before dragging you backward, closer to him so he can hold you firmly against his body and fuck up against your cervix. The sting brings tears to your eyes, and you sob into your fist as you’re dragged roughly back and forth on his cock. “Watch your fucking mouth.” He growls, leaning over you to wrap his fist around your hair and yank your head up. “Or I’ll take you out there and show them all how well their pretend CEO takes a cock.”

You whimper at the tight grip on your hair, squeezing around his cock as the new angle drives Roman’s tip against your g-spot with every thrust. Your eyes open, and you meet the wide-eyed, horrified stare of your assistant through the glass. He’s frozen in shock, sitting at his desk but with his hands static against his headset, like he’s not sure if he’s going to throw it off and come to your rescue.

You shake your head, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as your husband’s thrusts become erratic and desperate. “Let him look.” He spits. “It’s the last time he’ll get to see you looking like this. Next time? You’ll be all fat and soft, growing my baby.”

You groan, nausea turning your stomach over as you feel him twitch and thicken inside you. “I didn’t lose the bet.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathlessly. “But you didn’t negotiate what happens if we both win.” You press your cheek to the cool, damp surface of the glass as Roman pins you harder. “No head for business, my pretty girl.”

You flutter your muscles around him as you feel his orgasm approaching, and Roman rewards you with his fingers as he reaches around your body to rub over your clit.

“Oh fuck, Roman,” you moan as he cums, his release painting your insides with heat as he lets out a beautiful, guttural groan. His fingers stop working against you, and you feel a pang of disappointment as he pulls out of you with a wet drag.

“Shit,” he huffs, tucking his softening cock away before easing you off the desk. His thumbs rub over the swollen lines on your hips where you’d been pressed to the edge of the desk, and he turns you around, peppering kisses over your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

You swallow, curling your fists in the front of his shirt and setting your rhythm to the steady thump of his heart beneath your knuckles. “We can try for a baby.”

He pulls away enough to look at you properly, and the hopeful half-smile on his full mouth sends butterflies kicking up into your stomach. “Really?”

“Any time you want.” You say, teasing one of the pearly buttons open and slipping your fingers against the warm skin over his heart. “Other than on my night off, of course.”

Roman chuckles, walking you back towards his chair and sitting with a huff, pulling you easily into his lap. You settle over his thighs, skirt still rolled up around your stomach and core messy with your arousal and the dripping of his cum as it leaks from the side of your underwear. “Of course,” he teases, working his hand between your legs and into your panties to rub his thumb against your clit. “At least until the baby comes.”

You do your best to ignore that as you focus on the tight, coiling pleasure in your core as Roman’s expert fingers unravel you. He knows exactly how to touch you, letting his fingers push inside you and curling them back precisely against your sensitive spot as his thumb works against you. “Roman, I’m gunna- your pants.”

He hums, leaning in to suck a bruise into your throat as he coaxes your orgasm out of you. “Do it, baby. Soak me. I want everybody to know how easy you cum for me. Just me.”

You whimper, hands still fisting in his shirt as your hips roll down against his hand. “I’m close,” you whisper, focusing on the gentle pressure of his fingers inside you and the rough, desperate grinding of his thumb against your clit as the coil in your stomach snaps and you feel the flood of your arousal soaking his hand, your underwear, his expensive fucking pants.  

Roman lets you sit in his lap for a full five minutes, stroking his fingers up and down your spine and enjoying the way you press your tits against his chest as you squirm under the tickling touch. “Crazy to think we might have just made a baby. Conceiving the future CEO of Godfrey Industries on this fucking desk.”

You pull away from him, cupping his jaw. “We didn’t. I’m not… I don’t think I’m ovulating. I guess I’ll have to start tracking it.”

Roman wrinkles his nose. “That isn’t hot.”

“No.” You roll your eyes, leaning in to peck his lips. “But if we don’t track, it could take months. Years, even.”

“I prefer the blanket bombing approach.” He muses, splaying his warm palm on your bare thigh. “I’ll fuck you every single day. Can’t miss.”

*

You’re feeling hot and giddy, drunk on his attention as you step out of his office, but at the prickle of eyes on your skin you shrink. They know. They all know, or they will soon. You’ll be a whispered, scandalous anecdote at the water cooler before the end of the day, all your progress undone in a single hour. You tug on the hem of your dress as you walk down the long corridor away from his office, knowing he’s watching from his desk. You clench your cunt hard, but you feel the wet, slick drop as a trickle of cum seeps out of you and rolls down your bare thigh, soaking into the suede of your shoe. Tears sting in your eyes as you finally, mercifully reach the elevator, and you sag against the wall as the doors close.

You unlock your car, looking wistfully at the CEO placard on the front of the spot for the last time, when your phone buzzes. You already know who it is, and you glance up at his window where you know he’s watching even though he’s too high up for you to see him.

I love you. Lets practice again tonight.

Your heart hurts as you read over the words, but cum is drying sticky and uncomfortable on your thighs and the shame of the long walk from his office burns hot in your blood. You text back with a mean little smirk on your face and hit send before you can chicken out.

Not tonight, I’m taking my time off.

Roman’s three dots appear, disappear, appear, disappear. You press your thighs tight together in anticipation of the punishment you’ll receive later as you swing up into the cab of your SUV and head home to wait for your husband.

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999 @stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit @skysgard @a-differentbrandof-beans

[apoptoses]

Have you ever been reading Devil’s Minion and thinking to yourself, “damn, I just can’t nail down a face for Daniel”? Have you watched Interview with the Vampire and felt like neither Christian Slater nor River Phoenix hit the mark for you?

Allow me to introduce you to James fucking Spader.

Look at him! Is that not the face of Daniel, completely fed up with Armand feeding his cigarettes down the garbage disposal?

He’s got the naive and beautiful face but ALSO the defiant yet beseeching thing down! Also he was like 22 here, which is right around the age Daniel met Armand so he’s at peak Healthy, Pretty Molloy here. No wonder Louis decided to take him home!!

“Do you know what a zip code is, or a tax bracket? I’m the one who buys all the goddamned airline tickets. Millions. How are we going to get millions! Steal another Maserati and be done with it, for God’s sakes!”

Spader is the original 80′s pretty boy you’d assume starred as the leading man in some schmoopy romances or schlocky teen dramas and he did that for a minute. Like check him out in Pretty in Pink-

 Is this not peak Night Island Daniel, in his Miami Vice looking bespoke suit ready to head out with Armand for the night?

Look at him snuggled into his blanket in Tuff Turf, like Daniel hungover and forcibly woken up to honky tonk piano tunes!

But the deliciousness doesn’t end at his looks. Because in true Molloy fashion that man said ‘you know what? I wanna make movies for freaks and weirdos only’

In Sex, Lies and Videotape he plays the sweetest pervert who loves interviewing women about their sex lives, video taping it, and then watching them back naked but not actually getting off! He’s impotent, he’s a gentle and lovely weirdo, there’s vampire!Daniel fodder for days in this one.

Crash is a horny flick that defies all explanation and really you need to go in blind if you’re gonna watch this one, but let me just say this: If Spader and his Wife in this film aren’t the most Daniel and Armand coded couple in cinema history I will eat my shoes. Also there’s tons of beautiful footage of him driving around at night with his blond hair ruffling in the breeze.

Your prefer your Daniel with glasses? Oh, perfect, because in Bad Influence he plays a sweet guy who gets into a fucked up situation with a toxic friend and a sex tape!

In Storyville he lets himself be thrown on the floor and lays there submissively before getting involved in yet another sex tape scandal!

Don’t even get me started on Dream Lover, another smut filled romp (with some filthy deleted scenes if you google the uncut version) which has the most Devil’s Minion promo photos of all time-

Like! Get the fuck out!

I could just go all day about his body of work but some of it you’ve just gotta see for yourself. In pretty much every film you’re guaranteed smut with him being deliciously submissive, extremely gentle with his hands, and down for all kinds of kink. And in most of his movies he gets bloody at least once, like-

this is a shitty picture i took of my laptop but look at the blood at the corner of his mouth! Vampire activities!

In summary, let me hit you with a photo dump:

Daniel laying in a cheap motel room during the chase years!

Daniel with delightful 70s hair!

More glasses!Daniel!

Daniel with a half-buttoned 80′s shirt looking so beautiful it’s no wonder Armand couldn’t NOT turn him!

It’s dark, he’s wet, he looks exhausted!

He’s the ideal beautiful Molloy Weirdo and I will not be accepting any other arguments, goodbye!!

[thedevotchka]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Summary: When Peter Rumancek meets a literal angel at his new school, he decides he'll do anything to have her for himself. There's only one problem; Letha doesn't date, kept under the thumb of her possessive cousin Roman. Lucky for Peter he has a cousin of his own, and you're willing to help him with his plans... for a price.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 COMPLETE

Old Wounds

Summary: After a messy breakup you return to your childhood home of Hemlock Grove, hoping to fly under the radar and avoid the attention of your childhood bully, Roman Godfrey, whilst you get back on your feet.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 COMPLETE

[thedevotchka]

An Aversion to Chaos (Simon x Reader) - Part 3/3

64.media.tumblr.com

Summary: Simon likes circles, Sam and space. He does not like triangles, chaos, or the woman living in the apartment below. When his brother invites you to dinner, Simon has to make the best of it. This is not something he is good at.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Warnings: vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, PiV sex

Word Count: 5567

MDNI, Full fic under cut!

Simon isn’t used to eating outside of his own home, but Sam says you’ve put in the effort to make things right for him and he should at least try. As he sits at your kitchen table, too many corners, and with a wobbly leg that sets his teeth on edge, he watches you dart from one end of the kitchen to the other. Every available surface is littered with pots, pans, bowls and cutting boards dripping with various substances.

He rises to his feet, fingers itching against his jeans, and Sam gives him a sharp look before mouthing ‘sit’.

Simon does, fixing his gaze on the perfectly round plate in front of him instead of the chaos everywhere else. You swear from the kitchen and Sam gets up. Simon wonders why it’s fine for him to leave the table, but then Sam walks into the kitchen area and takes a spatula from your hand, and you smile at him. You hadn’t asked for help but somehow Sam had known, and he’d gone to your rescue. Simon’s stomach aches with an unpleasant feeling, like he’s angry with his brother. He’s never angry with his brother, but he just can’t stand the way you smile at him, the easy way he touches your waist as he passes behind you in the cramped kitchen.

“He doing okay?” You ask quietly, eyes sliding briefly over your boyfriend as he glares at his plate. “I meant to prepare things better, to avoid all this mess.”

“He’s fine.” Sam says with an encouraging smile. “He’s… managing. It’s good for him to try.”

You nod, chewing your lip nervously. “I hope it all… I followed your instructions exactly. It should be precisely what he expects.”

Sam figures it’ll be a miracle if Simon actually manages to eat any of the food you’ve prepared, but he hopes it’ll be okay. You’re flushed, pinched stress lines around your eyes, and Sam wishes he could say something to make you feel better. He’s almost overwhelmed with how much he cares about you, how much he values you for how you treat his brother. He’d do anything to keep you here, because he has no idea at all how he’ll fix it if you leave.

“All done,” you announce, rounding the corner and approaching the table with the finished product. Tacos because it’s Friday. Perfectly round tortillas with Simon’s specific layering of fillings. You place the tacos on Simon’s plate and stand back apprehensively.

Simon fights the urge to wrinkle his nose, because the lettuce has been chopped to ribbons and the edges have curled in on themselves. Instead he thinks about the things Sam said in the elevator on the way down. That you’d studied the instructions for making the food. That you’d cleaned your apartment twice. That you’d bought new plates and new cutlery to make sure he’d be comfortable eating in your space. And he sucks in a breath, turns his face up to yours, and smiles. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”

You blink at him before your face splits into a grin, and Simon’s heart skips a beat. He did that, he made you smile like that. Not the small, polite curve of your lips you’d given his brother. He made you grin, made your cheeks heat in a pleased little blush. Just with a couple of words and a smile. Because you like him. Simon.

You sit beside your boyfriend and eat slowly, carefully, trying not to watch Simon eat but unable to stop yourself when every bite feels like a tiny miracle. Sam watches too, his heart aching with pride for how far his brother has come in such a short amount of time. Sam has never pushed Simon, never tried to stretch his boundaries like their parents had, and he’s sure that’s the reason his brother trusted him more than anyone else. But for the first time in his life, Simon wanted something, and he wanted to step outside of his boundaries to get it.

Simon can feel eyes on him, Sam’s eyes and yours, but he doesn’t look up from his plate. He doesn’t like watching people eat, all that chewing and swallowing and noise. So he focuses on his food, on making it disappear so he can see that grin on your face again.

“How was work?” You ask the room.

“Fine.” Sam says. “Simon?”

“The same as always.” Simon says.

Sam coughs, and Simon stops eating to glance at him. Sam’s eyes slide towards you and he remembers that there’s another part to this conversation.

“How about you? How was your day?”

You smile, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip. Simon’s blood thunders in his ears. “It was good. I had a really great lunch meeting with a potential client. He took me to a very fancy restaurant.”

Simon feels another pang of the ugly, hot feeling in his stomach at your words. He’s not jealous, he can’t be. But he does feel sick at the thought of you having a meal with another man, somewhere fancy, somewhere Simon would never be able to take you.

“Wined and dined this afternoon and then you have to come back and cook for us?” Sam asks, teasingly.

You roll your eyes, tapping your fork against your plate. “I prefer this. No one I’d rather eat with.”

Sam rolls his eyes now. “Like I’m not the third wheel.”

Simon knows this expression, though it’s never made much sense to him. Three wheels make for a far more stable bicycle than two.

“Well we don’t mind, right Simon?”

Simon shrugs. “You can eat with us, Sam. But you have to leave after.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise. “Oh yeah? Do you two have big plans tonight?”

You swallow, thinking about what will happen after dinner. Making out and more on Simon’s couch had become an integral part of your weekend routine. That sounds unromantic, but it wasn’t. It was actually kind of nice to know for sure when you were going to get intimacy with your boyfriend. You could always prepare for it, and more importantly, so could Simon. When he’d suggested that he come to your place Friday night, for privacy, you’d almost dropped your coffee on the carpet. You’d tried not to get your hopes up, tried to assume it meant nothing instead of potentially everything, but you’d been a mess all week anyway.

Simon shrugs, but he’s thinking about exactly how much he’s prepared for your big plans tonight. The librarian had looked at him like he’d grown a second head when he dropped a stack of books on her desk.

“You know these are… they’re not exactly science books, Simon.”

“No, I know.”

“They… okay. They’re of an… intimate nature.” She can’t quite look him in the eye, and Simon’s brows drop over his eyes in frustration.

“I know that. They’re sex books. I’m learning about sex.”

She does look at him then, pink staining across her cheeks, and Simon swallows. “I have a girlfriend.”

The librarian blinks, her mouth falling open like this was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. Simon couldn’t blame her, even if he was a little offended. Maybe it was absurd.

“Well… congratulations to you.”

“Thank you. I’m going to have sex with her this weekend.”

The librarian makes a surprised scoffing sound as she scans the barcode of the last book and slides it across the desk to him. “Then… good luck to her.”

Simon nods, and it isn’t until he’s halfway home that he realizes she might not have meant that in a complimentary way.

He’d read every book twice. There were parts he understood, and parts he didn’t. Parts he liked, and parts that made his cock hard and his breathing erratic. He made notes, copious notes. A step-by-step plan for how the evening would go. The only thing he couldn’t account for, frustratingly, was you. He couldn’t be sure how you were going to react to things. The women in the books liked this or that, but he couldn’t quite picture how you’d react to his touch. Women in books who didn’t like the men they were with often refused to use their mouths, but you’d liked the taste of his cock, and the sticky release that had come out of it, and from what Simon could tell that meant you really liked him, too.

His notes burn against his thigh as he settles on your couch after dinner, watching you finish loading the dishes into the washer and switching the machine on. There is a pleasing sequence of chimes as it starts, and Simon focuses on the mechanical familiarity of the mechanism to calm the shaking in his hands.

“Everything okay?” You ask as you take a seat beside him.

“Yes.” Simon rubs his palms on his thighs, leaving damp streaks of perspiration on the denim. “I’m glad Sam is gone.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand and tangling your fingers through his. Simon sucks in a breath, reminding himself that this easy touch is good, and after a moment he squeezes your fingers with his own.

“I’m glad too,” you mumble, twisting on the couch to face him.

Simon leans in to connect his lips to yours, his free hand lifting to cup your jaw gently as he presses your lips apart with his own.

You sigh against his mouth, feeling the tight bundle of nerves in your stomach unwind and recoil into a different kind of tension as your tongue traces Simon’s bottom lip and he nudges the tip of it with his.

There is nothing in the world like making out with Simon. Where most guys seem to switch off when your lips connect, Simon switches on. His brain ticks overtime, noting every single tiny motion and sound you make so he can repeat things you like. He knows you like it when his tongue grazes yours, so he does it over and over. He knows you like to draw his bottom lip between your teeth and he lets you, even though the very slight sting of your teeth biting into his flesh makes him squirm.

Most of the time his hands stay respectfully on your hips or your face, sliding occasionally into your hair to pull lightly and coax little moans from your throat. You freeze at the feeling of his hand on your thigh, high up on your thigh, and Simon breaks the kiss to watch his own fingers graze up and over the crotch of your jeans.

“Simon,” you breathe, pressing your lips tightly together as each brush of his fingers send shockwaves of electricity through your core.

“I want to… try something.” He mutters, flattening his palm against your center. The heat radiating from his palm stirs your blood, drawing it south and swelling through your most sensitive parts, and your forehead drops to his shoulder. “You can tell me if it’s not right.” He adds, and you suppress a grin against his t-shirt at the role-reversal. There’s almost nothing he could do that you’d consider ‘not right’, when every tiny touch of his skin against yours sends bolts of pleasure through you.

His fingers find the zipper on your jeans and he tugs it down. You swallow around a lump of anxiety as his hand slips against your underwear, prodding at the wetness on the front of your panties.

Simon expects to find that dampness, and he knows it means you’re enjoying it. He lifts his hand to his face and touches his fingers to his nose, and then his mouth. You don’t smell like much, and the taste is… okay. Not really anything, and Simon is relieved about it. He wants to do things to you, for you, but if you’d tasted the way he did in your mouth, he wouldn’t be able to do it. Not with any amount of reading or studying or making plans.

“Are you… okay?” You ask, your voice muffled against his shirt. Your hair tickles Simon’s neck and he brushes your hair over your shoulder and away from himself.

“I want to touch you.”

You shudder, finally lifting your head from his shoulder to study his face. His cheeks are flushed and his pupils are wide, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in to kiss him. Simon’s hands find the waistband of your jeans and he tugs on them lightly, encouraging you to lift your hips from the couch so he can help you shimmy out of the confines of your jeans. The couch is cool on your bare thighs as you sit back down, and Simon wastes no time at all in sliding his fingers inside your panties to brush through the slick heat of your pussy. At the feeling, his cock begins to thicken, and Simon is giddy with relief that his body likes this. He won’t have to fake it.

“Please,” you whisper, and Simon pulls away from the kiss to watch your face as his fingers probe up to find your clitoris. He knows roughly where it is, and his gentle fingers are meticulous in their slow, methodical caresses until he grazes over the sensitive nub and your eyes roll back.

Watching you dissolve into pleasure is better than 2001: A Space Odyssey. He could watch you jerk and twitch and sigh under his fingers for two hours and twenty-nine minutes. The slickness at your core is growing, and Simon’s fingers are wrinkling like he’s been in the shower for too long.

“You can… Simon you can put your fingers, uh, inside me.”

Simon frowns, his fingers releasing their pressure on your clit to slip down towards where he knows there’s a… oh. He pushes his index finger inside you, inside your body. Your walls grip his finger, muscles contracting around him, and Simon’s cock twitches in his too-tight pants even as he fights the urge to withdraw his hand from you and wipe it on his jeans. There’s something very alien about putting part of himself inside you, like you’re going to devour him. But your eyes roll back in your head and you sigh out a ‘fuck, Simon’ and he perseveres, adding a second finger and pumping them in and out of your hole until your muscles stop trying to swallow him.

“Does that hurt?” He asks, because he can’t not ask. Can’t believe it would feel good.

“No,” you gasp, eyes shooting open. “What did you just… do that again.”

Simon obeys, curling his fingers and brushing against the spongy flesh inside you that sends a bolt of toe-curling pleasure through your pussy. “Right there.” You whimper, lifting your hips to encourage him to push deeper inside you. “Feels good, Simon.”

Simon really, really likes it when you say his name like that. Like a praise, like a dirty word. He can feel precum oozing into his boxers and he wonders if it would be rude to ask you to touch him at the same time. But then again, he can never focus at all when your fingers are wrapped around his cock and he wants to make sure he gets this right. Wants to make sure you finish.

“I want to make you come.” He says, biting his bottom lip in concentration as your walls flutter against his fingers. “It’s all I want.”

You sigh, reaching for his hand. He stills inside you as you wrap your fingers around his thumb and tug it up to press into your clit. “Both at the same time. Touch me here and keep pushing in and out with your fingers.”

Simon’s fingers feel like they might cramp from the stretch, but your whole body jerks when he pushes the pad of his thumb against your clit, and it’s worth it.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a dizzying wave, sending skitters of pleasure down your legs as your hips lift to grind against Simon’s hand. You force your rolling eyes to focus on his face, on the dazed, blissed expression of wonder on your boyfriend’s perfect features. God, you want to kiss him. As though he knows, as though he’s picked up on the invisible cues of your body, Simon leans in to press his lips to yours, swallowing the whimpering cry that bubbles out of your throat as you ride out your high.

Your walls clench around him so tightly that Simon can’t move his fingers for a moment, and he thinks what that will feel like wrapped around his cock, and he stutters out a shocked moan into your mouth as he comes in his boxers, neglected cock shooting a mess as the sensitive head drags against rough cotton. You pull back from the kiss at the sound, wondering if you’ve hurt him or freaked him out, but the growing wet patch on the front of his jeans has your head swimming with lust. There is something supremely hot about a grown man coming in his jeans without you even having to touch him.

Simon pulls his fingers out of you and he does wipe them on his jeans now, wincing at the wrinkled feeling of his skin. The stickiness cooling in his boxers sets his teeth on edge, and he pushes off the couch. “I have to go now.”

You swallow around the sting of rejection, knowing he’s overwhelmed and overstimulated and it has nothing and everything to do with you.

“I know. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday. You’ll come over for pizza and we’ll watch a movie.” Simon’s heartrate slows as he recites the plan, and you smile softly, pushing up from the couch to walk with him to your door. “Thank you. I was just checking. I had… thank you.” You say again, leaning up to peck him very gently on the cheek. Simon doesn’t flinch like you expect him to, and butterflies kick up in your stomach.

*

“I need you to show me how to make the dough.”

Sam blinks up at his brother, his finger hovering over the line in his book. “Excuse me?”

“The pizza dough. I need you to show me how to make it.”

“Okay,” Sam says slowly, closing his book. “Tomorrow afternoon we could-“

“No. I need you to show me today. Now.”

“Why?”

Simon sighs. “So I can make pizza tonight.”

“But I make the pizzas on Saturdays, Simon. I always have.”

Simon resists the urge to curl his hands into fists. He’s already anxious, and Sam’s questioning is making it worse.

“You aren’t going to be in the apartment tonight.”

“I’m not?”

“No, Sam. You can go to Frieda’s. I will make pizza for my girlfriend, and we will watch a movie alone.”

Sam’s brows furrow as he works over the words. “You… want to be alone. Completely.”

“Yes. Tonight we’re going to have sex.”

Sam chokes on his own breath, spluttering as his hands brace against the table for support. His brother watches, expression neutral as he waits for Sam to recover. “You’re going to have sex tonight? Does she know this?”

Simon feels his cheeks heat. “We’ve been together for several months. It’s the next step.”

“Okay.” Sam doesn’t disagree. “But are you ready for it?”

“I’ve done my research. I know exactly what to do, Sam.”

“Okay.” Sam says again. “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready. I mean, the physical part is… you can’t learn that in a book, Simon.”

Simon huffs, flicking his hair out of his face. “I’ve done lots of other things with her. I can do this.”

Sam isn’t necessarily surprised by that, the walls in the apartment are thin and he’s had to disinfect the couch every Sunday morning for his own peace of mind, but it’s jarring to hear Simon admit it so easily.

“Well, uh, you know to be safe? Use a condom.” “I bought a jumbo pack.”

Sam chokes on a shocked bubble of laughter, shaking his head. “I guess you got it all figured out then. Just… do you need to talk about it? Ask any questions, or?”

“No. I’ve done my research. I have notes.”

Sam presses his lips together and nods. “Well then… good luck. I can show you how to make the pizzas and I’ll be out of here before she arrives. Get me the big mixing bowl from the cupboard.”

Simon is predictably terrible at making pizza dough. He hates the feeling of the sticky mix on his hands, and he loses patience with the kneading process. Sam mostly takes over whilst Simon cuts a perfect round of parchment paper.

“If I… if it doesn’t go well, will she leave?”

Sam pauses, rolling pin hovering over the pizza dough. “You mean… if the sex doesn’t go well?”

“If I can’t… if it doesn’t work.”

Sam glances at his brother, but Simon is glaring at the countertop. “Simon. She really likes you. And the first time is always a bit awkward.”

“It isn’t her first time, though.” Simon’s voice is quiet, and he chews his lip into his mouth nervously.

“No, I mean your first time together. All couples are a little awkward at first, getting to know each other. If the first time doesn’t go well, it doesn’t mean anything. The next time will be better, and the time after that.” Sam means to be reassuring, but Simon’s blood pounds in his ears and his mouth dries out. He’s spent so long focusing on getting this time right he’d completely forgotten the fact that there would be more times after. He couldn’t plan for every time.

“Simon?” Sam’s voice is very far away in Simon’s ears, even as his brother’s feet appear beside him. “Simon, are you okay? What’s happening?”

Simon brushes past his brother, stumbling down the hall and into his room, into his ship. The moment the lid closes and darkness envelopes him, Simon’s heartrate slows to something more manageable and he rests his head against the wall.

He hears Sam’s footsteps, and the static of Sam’s walkie talkie.

“Earth to Simon, requesting clarification, over.”

Simon sighs, lifting his walkie talkie. “That’s a negative, over.”

“I… Simon.” Sam presses a palm to the ship. “Your girlfriend will be here soon. I need to know what you’re going to do.”

Simon squeezes his eyes shut.

“I can cancel her. Send her away when she knocks.”

The words send a jolt of panic through Simon, and he pushes to a stand, the lid to his spaceship hitting the floor with a clatter. “No, Sam! I have to… I want to see her.”

Sam sighs, slumping back against Simon’s bed and looking up at his brother. “That’s good. If we get the pizzas in the oven now, they’ll be cooked right on time.”

Simon is off, there’s no other way to describe it. The pizzas have come out perfectly round and perfectly cooked, and Sam greeted you with a hey and a bye at the door on his way out. But without the older sibling to make conversation, dinner is painfully quiet. You try to talk to him several times but he barely looks up from his plate, and you wonder whether something has happened.

“Are you okay, Simon?” He looks up at you then, brows furrowing. “Yes.” After a pause. “Oh, um, are you okay?” “I’m fine. I’m just wondering… you’re very quiet today.”

“I’m not.”

You shrug, offering him a smile. “Okay. Maybe it’s just quiet without Sam.”

This is the wrong thing to say, because Simon’s shoulders slump and his eyes return to his plate.

You sigh, swallowing a bite of pizza that turns to gloop in your mouth.

When Simon finishes his pizza he places his knife and fork carefully either side of his plate and stands. “I need to do something in my room. Can you wash the dishes?”

You nod, not trusting your voice when there’s a lump of anxiety in your throat.

You hear the music first and follow the notes of the slow ballad down the hall. Simon’s bedroom door is partially ajar, and you knock before pushing it open. You’ve never been in Simon’s room before. It’s exactly as clean and exact as you expect, nothing out of place. Except maybe the nervous man sitting on the bed with a rose in his lap. Your lips threaten to turn up into a smile at the sight of him, the music, the candles, the rose. “Hey.”

He holds the rose out to you, and you cross the room to stand between his legs as you take it from him. “Pretty. Thanks.”

Simon nods, lacing his fingers with yours and swinging your hand at your side, almost shyly. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

You swallow hard. You’d expected this, all the signs had pointed towards it but now the moment had arrived you’re terrified. Not that you don’t want to sleep with him, of course you do. But he’s a virgin and you’re terrified that this will go badly, or that he’ll regret it. That everything will be ruined.

“Are you sure you want this?” You ask, your voice small. “We don’t have to.”

Simon tugs on your hand, pulling you against him, and you lift your leg carefully to straddle his thighs.

Simon’s breath stutters out of him and his eyes drop to your mouth, so close to his own. “Yes. I want this. I’m ready. I’m sure about it.” His hands drop to your hips, long fingers splaying over your flesh.

The words send a shiver through you, arching your spine against him as you dip your mouth to brush against his. Simon’s body reacts immediately, curling up against you to press his body flush to yours as his lips part and his tongue glides out to taste along the seam of your lips. It’s so different to how he was just a few months ago. More different than you could have ever believed, actually. You thread your fingers into his hair, dropping the rose to the bed beside you as you graze your nails against his scalp. Simon whines into your mouth, his hips rolling up to meet yours as the hard bulge of his cock grazes against your panties and you’re glad you decided to wear a skirt tonight.

You grind down against him, the friction sending hot flushes of pleasure through your core. Simon’s breaths huff into your mouth as his hips meet yours, and he has to pull away from the kiss to focus on not coming in his pants again.

You grin at him as you try to catch your breath, aware that every shift of your hips makes Simon’s eyes flutter closed. However much you love watching him unravel like this, you’d much rather he do it buried inside you. You slide off his lap and stand in front of him again, lifting the hem of your shirt and revealing the pretty red lace bra you’d bought just for him. Simon’s eyes drop to your breasts as his mouth drops open, the thick bob of his throat swallowing as his eyes devour you.

“Can I…” you trail off, reaching your fingers out to brush along the collar of his hoodie. Simon nods, shrugging out of the jacket and then pulling his own t-shirt off to expose his lightly toned, unblemished torso.

Your eyes widen and you bite your lip as you drink in every inch of his skin. You’d never been with someone so intimately without seeing them naked before Simon, and seeing him now, when your feelings were already so ingrained in you, heightened every moment. Simon leans back against his mattress, the soft muscles of his stomach tensing under your stare.

“You’re supposed to get naked now.” He says, his voice shaking a little. You roll your eyes and hook your fingers into the elasticated waistband of your skirt, thumbing it to the ground in one motion.

Your return to the bed, noting the way Simon’s hands shake and his fingers worry at the fabric of his bedsheet. You sit beside him this time, lifting a hand to cup his face.

“You don’t need to be nervous. It’s only me.”

Simon shakes his head. “I’m not nervous.” But he is. His heartbeat is too fast and his palms are clammy. He reaches for the button on his jeans, but he can’t quite get it through the hole and after a moment he gives up with a huff. “They’re stuck.”

You drop your hands to his waistband and undo the button, sliding the zipper down slowly. “I got you, Simon.”

You tug at his jeans and he lifts his hips so you can push the fabric down his legs. You hook your arms around his neck and tug him towards you, pulling him back towards the center of the bed and forcing him to climb further onto the mattress. You keep pulling, keep leading him until your back is pressed to the mattress and he’s between your legs, the hot press of his cock twitching against your core as he braces himself over you. You can feel every rapid inhale and exhale as his ribs crush against yours and you hook one knee up around his hips as you draw his mouth down to yours. “I’ve got you,” you mumble against his lips.

Something in Simon clicks. Its like he remembers every note he took and his body takes control of the situation at the exact same time. He grinds his hips down onto yours, suppressing the whimper that threatens to slip out at the friction of fabric on fabric. You lift your other leg to bracket around his hip, dragging him closer, encouraging him to rut harder against you, and Simon does whine then, his lips slipping clumsily against yours as his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t want to come without having sex with you, so he pulls back enough to reach a hand between you and shove his boxers down far enough to let his cock free. The rough lace of your panties against his bare length is too much, and Simon winces as he reaches down to push your underwear to the side. He lets his cock slip against your bare skin, his eyes rolling back at the wet heat of your folds grazing his length. “Please, Simon.” You whisper, and it’s all Simon can do to grip his cock at the base and drag it down to line up with your entrance.

He pauses for a moment, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “I love you, okay?”

You swallow hard around a lump in your throat. “I love you too, Sim-ohhh.” He pushes into you slowly and your mouth goes slack around his name, morphing into an embarrassing moan as he fills you completely.

Simon wants to take a moment to commit the sight of you, and the sound you just made, to memory. But he can’t, because his brain doesn’t work anymore. There is nothing but the pulsing, impossible heat of you as you flutter around his cock. You press your palm to his jaw, bringing his eyes back to yours as he pulls halfway out and pushes back into you. Your eyes roll back and Simon watches, transfixed, as he pulls out a little further and pushes back in. “Oh,” you whisper, squeezing around him. Simon groans, his hips snapping against yours more forcefully. He should have made you come first, because now he can’t remember how to do it and he isn’t going to last long. He wonders if that will make this bad sex, because in the books men who didn’t make their women come before they finished were selfish. Simon didn’t mean to be selfish, but he hadn’t expected it to feel this good.

“I’m…” he manages just the one word, but you know what he’s trying to tell you. You can feel it, the thickening and tightening of his cock, the erratic thrusts deep inside you. It feels impossibly good, better than you’d expected, but it isn’t going to be a marathon session. You don’t mind, not when Simon looks so beautiful above you, his brows furrowed in concentration and his bottom lip pressed bloodless under his teeth. There’d be time to go slow later.

“It’s okay, Simon.” You mumble, squeezing around his cock until he whines. “Come for me. It’s okay.”

Simon does, his cock twitching and his hips stuttering against yours as your muscles flex around him, milking his release like you’re draining his lifeforce. It isn’t gross like he’d thought it would be. It doesn’t feel unnatural like he expected it to, either. Being with you like this was natural. Simon collapses against you, chest slick with sweat and sending goosebumps skittering over your skin as his damp hair tickles your neck. You lay still, careful not to tense around his softening cock. You desperately want to wrap your arms around him, but you’re not sure he can take it.

After a moment of catching his breath, Simon pulls himself out of you and rolls to the side. “Are you okay?” You ask into the silence. Simon doesn’t say anything. He can’t right now, so he laces his fingers with yours and squeezes until his heart stops beating so fast.

Tagging @coryoslut