Summary: You have a one night stand with Sam and his monster cock. 4,000 words of pure porn.
Word Count: 3,900ish
Warning: So much smut, Sam’s monster cock, a little bit of dom!Sam if you squint
A/N: Yeah. This is porn. Enjoy. XOXO
Yeah, yeah. You’re breaking all your rules tonight.
But can anyone blame you?
Look at him.
And sure, you have a very important rule about customers being a no-fly zone, and you tend to find one night stands more awkward that satisfying. But seriously.
Look. At. Him.
Even your coworkers have noticed, despite the fact that you haven’t mentioned him to anyone. They’re standing in the doorway of the kitchen, whispering as they ogle, waggling their eyebrows at you as you get him a glass of water.
You shake your head at them, not bothering to say anything because you know they won’t behave even if you do, and head back out to the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in real life.
[A/N: This is for an AU that I made a while ago. I started writing this
on mobile, but today my mother got me a lap top so I’ll be able to write on
that. (Today as in June 24th) Thanks to @yaxxm I was able to
actually get the thing started! I’ll more than likely have more than one part
to this, as I don’t want to have anything over 2,000 words per part. I threw in
a head canon that I’d seen a while ago. That head canon is Lance’s first name is actually Leandro, but he needed to westernize it so that people could wouldn’t butcher it.
Disclaimer: Voltron isn’t mine. Sadly.]
It was late July, with summers’ heat at full blast in Cuba.
The McClain’s were on their way back from San Antonio, after spending the week
there – there were celebrations happening in San Antonio for July 25th,
which was Revolution Day, the Movement of July 26th place, and the
McClain family went every year. At the moment, Dante McClain was the only one
awake – the designated driver for the last three hours of driving. It was while
he was driving that it happened – a light streaked across the sky and at first
Dante thought it was only a shooting star – or falling space debris, which was
even more likely than a shooting star. Although it was a shooting star, it was
different than Dante had ever experienced before. While shooting stars leave a
tail – they were visible for seconds, and often appeared and disappeared into
the night sky, this falling star didn’t disappear. After it landed – somewhere
Northwest of the car – there was a flash of light and then stillness.
Dante McClain was a curious man, so it really wasn’t his
fault that he had started driving towards where he saw the meteor fall –
assuming that he could just see where the landing place was from the crater it
would leave, take the space junk, and bring it home. Dante loved having things
that he didn’t know where they came from – he loved researching said things
until he finds out where the piece of junk – or rock – came from.
Eventually, Dante came across a clearing, and stared in awe
at the scene before him. Where he thought would be a rock or some debris was
glowing a vibrant blue. He turned the engine off, and approached the glowing
orb – something seemed to be calling out to him. As he approached it, the
glowing slowly dimmed until in its’ place lay a child – a few months old at
most. Which was strange, but Dante
was curious, so he walked back to the car holding the baby in his arms.
“Maria,” he whispered loudly to wake his slumbering wife in the passenger seat.
Maria stirred, and then her eyes opened to see Dante holding
an infant in his arms. Maria stared for a few seconds, confused and
disoriented. “When.. Who..?” She attempted to question her husband, who seemed
to understand the questions.
“Well,” Dante whispered, not wanting to wake the other four
children in the car, “I’ll explain in depth later, but I found him in this
field,” he explained quietly, holding the child closer to his chest.
“Abandoned?” Maria gasped, the child already melting her
“…Kind of,” Dante relented, although he wouldn’t call
‘falling from the sky’ as abandoned.
“I’ll hold him for the rest of the drive,” Maria murmured,
taking the infant from Dante’s arms, cooing at the baby who was staring up at
his new mother. He gurgled, reaching up for her face. His eyes blinked at her
slowly, and it was only then that she noticed his eyes were glowing faintly.
She brushed it off, perhaps it was the lighting. Dante got into the vehicle,
and again set off towards their home.
They arrived home three hours later, just as
dawn was breaking at the horizon – although the McClain family would likely
sleep for the rest of the day. The children – Dalmacio, the oldest at 14, the
twins Madrona and Marilin were 11, the youngest Favian at only 6 years old –
were still sleepy enough to not pay attention to their surroundings, and headed
straight to bed when they got home. While Maria and Dante were tired, they knew
they needed to get their newest member of the family – they’d decided on
Leandro – into some clothes and feed him.
As Dante held little Leandro, he knew in his heart that this little boy was going to end up being a part of something bigger than him - than anyone on Earth.
“Baby. Babe, you gotta wake up. Come on, let’s see those pretty eyes.”
Squeezing your already closed eyes, you flipped onto your stomach to bury your face in the pillow as your brain began to bring your body back to full consciousness. The familiar sounds of an early Friday morning poured into your ears as your boyfriend began gently rocking your stiff body.
“You hit snooze in your sleep again. You’re lucky your loud ass alarm woke me up so I could stop you from oversleeping.”
“E,” you groaned, your voice being muffled by the pillow.
You nearly fell back asleep as Ethan’s long fingers pushed the hair that had fallen to the sides of your face back and over your shoulder, twisting a couple strands between his digits as he did so.
Finally opening your eyes, you turned your head and allowed your tired, blurry vision to focus on the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on. He was propped up on his right elbow, greeting you with a small and sleepy smile. His lower half was still tangled in the sheets up to the hem of his boxers, leaving his naked upper body on full display. Turning onto your left side to face him and get a better look, your sleep-heavy right arm extended in front of you to sweep the messy strands of bedhead away from his eyes. Ethan watched your eyes intently as they followed your movements. You dropped your hand to his jaw, your thumb automatically grazing over your favorite amount of stubble. Tracing his jaw down to his chin, your eyes locked on those full, flushed lips. As if on cue, his tongue poked out and licked the soft skin. They were so… velvety. Your thumb was drawn to them like a magnet, outlining their rounded shape.
“I love you,” you whispered as the pad of your thumb lightly stroked the plump skin of his bottom lip.
A low and breathy chuckle slipped from Ethan’s lips as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, flashing you his bright, toothy smile. Your favorite sound followed by your favorite sight. His little laughs sent shivers down your spine and his beautiful smile made your heart leap. You wished he wouldn’t be so overcritical of his bright smile.
“You love me, huh?” He sighed, lips pulling together in a teasing smirk. Goosebumps dotted your skin at the barely there feeling of his hand gliding down your side, palm landing on your hip. His fingertips softly dug into the swell, his thumb caressing your skin and allowing the faint scrape of his nail.
“Mmm,” you hummed in response as your eyes fluttered closed.
The deduction of your vision gave rise to the heightened ability of your remaining senses. Suddenly, every touch receptor in your body was notifying you of the presence of Ethan’s hand lovingly kneading at the curved softness of your hip. Your ears centered on the barely audible, continuous cycle of his slow and deep breathing. The faint and worn smell of his woodsy cologne still lingered on his hot skin. The bed shifted slightly where Ethan was laying as you sensed him leaning forward, planting kisses on each of your closed eyelids and one on the tip of your nose. Scrunching your face with a smile, you slowly opened your eyes immediately noticing just how close Ethan’s face was to yours. You could make out every shade in the melting pot of color within his irises and count each of his long, black eyelashes. The same playful smirk was plastered on his face as he whispered his response in a gravely tone, his palm adding more pressure behind the squeezing of your hip.
“Well baby, that’s quite the relief to hear, considering I love you as well. Maybe we should date.”
“Maybe,” you giggled, once again bringing a hand up to his hair, your fingers softly digging into his thick, dark locks. Ethan’s eyes closed as a quiet, innocent groan rumbled in his throat. A similar smirk played on your own lips as you continued your taunting: “Or maybe not.”
Without missing a beat and with eyes still closed, Ethan’s hands firmly grasped your sides, easily hauling you forward, emitting a squeal from your lips. He guided you on top of him in a straddling position, the palms of your hands flying to his chest in order to keep your balance.
Immediately, you bent down to press your lips to his in a brief kiss before placing the left side of your head on his right collarbone. Your arms snaked easily around his neck, hands instantly twirling and playing with the puffs of hair on the nape of his neck. Your eyes closed as well as you listened to his steady pulse and focused on the light scratches his nails were giving your back. These sweet morning moments were few and far between, but you wished they happened everyday. With Ethan’s career and your college schedule combined, many times one of you would be gone before the other even woke up. Today, however, Ethan had the entire day off, but you still had class. You were seriously considering playing hooky for the day, but you knew Ethan wouldn’t allow it. Especially considering the struggles you’ve been known to have in certain subjects. His voice brought you back to reality the moment he noticed you beginning to slowly drift to sleep again.
“C’mon sweetheart,” he mumbled into your hair. “You gotta get to class.”
The whiny groan that vibrated from you made Ethan’s heart melt. He lived and breathed for the many effects he had on you. That being said, he was still fully aware you had him helplessly wrapped around your finger. The idea of staying in this same position: legs twisted, arms wrapped, and faces buried as you soaked in the warmth of the other was something you both craved. It was nearly enough to break Ethan’s strength and keep you in this bed all day. Almost.
“I’m sick of it,” you muttered into his neck as your right hand traced his prominent clavicle. “You know it’s my worst class. I’m the most stressed I’ve ever been.”
Ethan’s hand rubbed your back gently in comfort as you spoke. He knew just how much you hated this class in particular. You studied yourself sick night after night, often not coming to bed before two or three in the morning. He witnessed too many tears of frustration and defeat slipping down your cheeks as you read and reread sections in your Power Points, handwritten notes, and textbooks containing the most complex information of each chapter. The immense pride he felt when you finally had a breakthrough of understanding was indescribable.
Unfortunately, those moments of glory never came easy.
You were on the verge of one, he just knew it, but you needed to get to class to take another step towards it.
“I know you’re sick of it, but you have to go,” Ethan soothed, still rubbing circles into your lower back. “When you come home, we can come right back to this same position and stay here all weekend if you want.”
You sighed, instantly relaxing at the thought. Taking in his words, you unraveled one of your arms and reached out to press the home button of Ethan’s phone laying on his nightstand.
45 minutes until you had to leave. As you read the large, bright numbers on his screen, you felt your boyfriend’s arms wrap around your abdomen tightly in a comforting embrace as he pressed his lips to your forehead.
“I’m all yours the second you come back home.”
As you began weighing the pros and cons in your head, your thoughts were soon interrupted by a swift, playful slap to your backside causing you to shriek in surprise.
“Up,” Ethan commanded with a chuckle and another slap.
“Okay, okay,” you whimpered, pushing yourself off your boyfriend and onto your feet.
You padded into your connected master suite and turned on the shower, allowing the water to heat up before poking your head out of the doorway to catch a glimpse of Ethan. His long legs were sprawled across your shared bed, one arm behind his head and the other attempting to rub the sleep from his face. You tiptoed to the edge of the bed and waited until he noticed your presence. His movements froze as he caught your eyes wandering across his torso.
“Take a picture, princess. It’ll last longer,” he teased with a raised eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes at his tone.
“Wanna shower with me?” You asked in your sweetest voice in hopes of convincing him.
Ethan chuckled as his arms reached over his head, proceeding to stretch out his body head to toe, making the most adorable whine as he did so. He let out a deep sigh as he propped himself up onto two elbows, causing his biceps to flex and bulge. He took his time lovingly studying your perfectly messy hair and makeup free face. You were stunning through and through in his eyes. A lazy smile crept onto his face as he noticed your eyebrow raising in response to his stare.
He untangled himself from the sheets, stood, and positioned himself directly in front of you. Before you could speak, he cupped both your cheeks and gently encouraged you forward as he tilted his head down to press his lips to yours in a sweet, leisurely kiss. Slowly pulling away, his hands floated from your cheeks to the sides of your waist.
You barely had time to register the smirk that had found its way back to his features before he was scooping you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and marching you back into the bathroom.
A/N thank you so much to @you-broke-our-spirit for writing this with me lmao i wouldnt be proud of this hc without you!!! also what are titles? and plot? who needs plot??
Warnings/tags: bottom!whiny!dan masseuse!phil, massage porn, lots of hickeys and praise, idk, no homo howell at first, shitty plot/set up, possibly shitty porn
Dan had a lot going on lately with the BBC. He was their lead host now every week day and spent most of his days stressing out and having panic attacks in the office bathrooms during lunch break. When Dan’s girlfriend, Lucy, saw how stressed out he was she decided that he needed to go get a massage.
Every time Dan came home from work he looked beaten down and tired. And every night, without fail Lucy always said in her matter of fact voice, “Baby, you’re so tense, come on, you need it.” Lucy even got her friends to nag Dan, and his mom! Every week he was getting calls from his mom telling him to listen to his girlfriend and “just go get the damn massage.” Dan was through with listening to their complaining after three months and finally gave in.
“Fine, fine, stop whining. I’ll go get a stupid massage,”
“Come on Dan, it’s not stupid it’s for your benefit,” she jokingly punched his shoulder and made him schedule an appointment online for some “hippy dippy massage place somewhere downtown.”
As the week progressed Dan sort of found himself dreading the massage. I mean a stranger rubbing his back with oil for two hours? Personally he didn’t see that as “heaven”, he saw that as torture. Not to mention the fact that where most of his stress is centered (his neck) is the same place as his g-spot, that has not had attention from anyone since his high school days.
A week of complaining and moping later and Dan was walking into the massage place. He contemplated just going to get some pizza to eat instead, and just tell Lucy that he got the massage but he remembered what she said and just tried to think of this as something he was finally doing for himself.
He needed this. Yes. He definitely needed this after all this bullshit with work.
When he walked in he was immediately hit with the scent of burning lavender incense. It was calming but overwhelming all at once. Maybe he should’ve just ditched.
After another useless internal battle he checked in. While he was waiting he bounced his leg up and down in the waiting room, just wanting to get this over with.
That’s when his masseuse walked out. Dan felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. He was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Dan had ever laid his eyes on. He had striking blue eyes and jet black hair swept to the side while sporting a form fitting black shirt on that Dan could clearly see the outline of his stomach through, and Dan would seriously kill for abs like that.
Of course Dan was thinking of this man as a goal for his own appearance. He couldn’t be attracted to him. Not at all. Dan was straight. Dan had a girlfriend. All of these thoughts were no homo thoughts. Yeah. Yeah, no homo.
“Hello? Dan? I’m Phil, your masseuse today,” the man grinned and Dan swears that the room lit up. No homo though.
“Uh- yea- uh- Dan- yeah- um -touch my body now- i mean- like a massage- yeah- haha."Now Dan has always been a formal, calm man. He has absolutely no idea what this ‘Phil’ was doing to him.
Phil giggled- fucking giggled- at Dan’s nervousness and led him to the back, where all the massage rooms were.
"Now before I 'touch your body’ I need to know certain things Mr. Howell. What kind of pressure would you like? What are certain problem areas,” Phil went on with the list of things he needed to know but all Dan could focus on was those damn, pink lips moving up and down a mile a minute –curling around each word. He was mesmerized, and when Phil finished talking he licked his lips and handed Dan the form to fill out, Dan fumbled and dropped the pen since he was so focused on Phil’s lips. When he got the pen back he filled out the stupid paperwork about what he wanted out of the massage.
“I’m going to leave you to get undressed now. Of course you can leave your boxers on if you’d like but they usually get in the way of massaging your thighs so if you’re comfortable with it, please take them off,” Phil then silently strode out of the room and shut the door behind him.
Dan started to strip quickly, trying to ignore both his existential crisis and his semi hard on. He folds and lays his clothes down on the chair in the corner of the room and slips off his shoes. Then he walks over to the massage table and awkwardly crawls inside, trying not to give his dick any friction so his hard on doesn’t get worse. It’s nearly impossible though, and when he lays flat on his stomach he slowly grinds against the table until Phil knocks on the door.
When Phil walks in he’s carrying different essential oils and he places them all on a table near Dan’s head. “Okay Mr. Howell-”
“Please, call me Dan. No need for formalities here,” Dan said, having regained his composure somehow.
“Okay well Dan, I’m gonna start off with your back and then I’ll move to your legs and then later I’ll have you flip over onto your back and do your arms and shoulders,”
“Sounds great, I’ve really needed this for a while. It’s a two hour session right?”
“Correct, and don’t feel bad if you fall asleep on the table,” Phil laughed, “You wouldn’t be the first person to do it and you definitely won’t be the last.”
Their banter carried on for a view minutes, Phil asking Dan where he works, Dan asking Phil how long he’s been a masseuse, random things like that; that was until Phil touched Dan’s neck.
“Dan, you need to relax, you have a lot of knots up here in your neck and I need to work them out,” Phil complained.
Dan tried his hardest to relax but it was hard when a hot guy that had already managed to make him question his sexuality was touching his number one g-spot. Phil pushed down on the major knots and worked them out one by one. When he switched over to the other side of Dan’s neck and started working on a knot at the base, Dan let out a loud embarrassing moan and immediately relaxed.
"There you go, good boy Dan, “He praised. Dan swears he heard Phil wrong. Yeah. He had to have said good job. Right? Oh well. Forget it.
Dan let himself relax after that point. Letting Phil have his way with all of the knots in his neck and moaning obscenely at each touch. Phil kept praising Dan for some reason, which was only turning Dan on more.
With each praise that slipped out of Phil’s mouth Dan moaned louder and subtly ground his hips into the table beneath him. He got all whiny and shallow breathed when Phil had finished working out all the knots in his neck.
"Since you seem to enjoy this so much, I’m going to focus more on your neck, even with all your knots being gone now,” Dan moans as a response and sinks into the table –shamelessly grinding into it now. Not even caring if Phil saw. Of course Phil noticed though, a fact unknown to Dan himself, but if anyone else were in the room they would’ve seen the way Phil froze and bit his lip.
Phil’s hands become hesitant for a second, and then Dan feels warm lips kissing the back of his neck.
“Oh my gosh, Dan I’m so sorry! That was so unprofessional of me!” Phil goes to apologize more but Dan just stares up at him with the most wrecked look in the world and lets out a small plea of “more.”
Within seconds Dan’s being flipped onto his back and Phil is diving for his neck, pressing kisses all around it. Phil pulls off Dan’s neck and kisses him roughly, slipping his tongue in without warning. Dan moans in response, kissing back feverishly and grabbing the back of his neck. Phil does wonders with his tongue, swirling and rolling it all around Dan’s mouth, knowing exactly what to do and how to make him squirm. Dan becomes pliant and tries to grind up into the dominant boy on top of him who just keeps pushing his hips down and making out with him. When they pull away Dan’s panting and his eyes are wide and dark.
“Phil, please, I need more. Bite me. Suck on my neck. Mark me. Please~” Now who would deny a request like that? Certainly not Phil. He goes back to Dan’s neck with a renewed energy and immediately begins to suck on a sweet spot at the base of Dan’s neck. He lets out a loud moan and Phil groans in response to the loud boy. Thank god these rooms are soundproof.
As Phil left a mark the size of a golf ball on Dan’s neck, Dan writhed against him, trying to push his hips up but Phil held them down. Holding him off from any type of release momentarily. He begins to suck another mark above the previous one. Dan should’ve been paying attention and told him to stop before he had to wear a turtle neck to work tomorrow, but he couldn’t think straight. Dan moaned and struggled for friction beneath Phil but he wasn’t given anything. Every time he groaned in annoyance Phil chuckled and just went back to sucking on his neck. He bit and nibbled and sucked as if his life depended on it.
“Phil- Fuck, you have to gi-ve me more, please I’ll d-do anything please jus-just let me grin-d-d against your th-thigh,” Dan whined as Phil smirked and just kept marking up his neck.
“Oh but princess, earlier you were begging for me to mark you up, so I’m going to take me time doing that.”
“Daniel, if you want to be fucked I suggest you stop whining. I only fuck good boys”
Before Phil could carry on, he rid himself of all of his clothes and climbed back on the table.
Phil continued on gingerly with his marks. He watched Dan writhe for a while before deciding that 5 hickeys on his neck was enough for now and that he needs to move onto somewhere else. He slowly moved down to his chest. Reaching up to rub on Dan’s nipples with both hands he attached his mouth right on Dan’s collarbones. He left a few bright red love bites all over them before moving down to leave more dark hickeys. Circling Dan’s nipples with both hands and sucking hickeys in random places was a lot for Dan’s needy little body to handle and he begged Phil to get on with it.
Finally giving into the writhing boy below him, Phil ground down his giant cock onto Dan. Dan let out a shout and his eyes rolled into the back of his head from finally being satisfied. “What do you want baby? Hmm?”
“Want you t’ fuck me, please Phil! Please!”
Dan desperately rolled his hips up, just wanting more and more.
“I don’t know. You haven’t been to good Dan,”
“No! Please I have! Phil you have to fuck me! Please!”
Phil chuckled lowly and brought his mouth down to Dan’s chest again. He kissed down Dan’s slightly chubby stomach quickly and pulled the blanket off of his lower half. Dan’s aching cock was now on display, he was leaking and flushed. Phil had a rush of sympathy because he made the boy wait so long for any type of satisfaction. But no, now wasn’t the time for sympathy. He kissed the tip of Dan’s dick and licked at his slit until he heard Dan once again pleading for more.
“God princess you’re so needy, so loud,”
Phil mumbled against Dan, making Dan groan from the vibrations on his cock.
Phil started kissing down Dan’s cock, to the base and once he got there he slowly tugged at Dan as he whined and thrusted up into his hand. Phil licked and marked Dan’s balls while he thumbed through his slit and occasionally ran an agonizingly slow hand down his length.
"Phil I’m gonna cu-”
“No you aren’t. And if you do you’ll definitely regret it. I can promise that.” Dan shuttered at Phil’s words and grabbed a fistful of the blanket beneath him. Trying to edge himself had always been an issue with Dan. He always got excited too quickly and went too fast with himself to a point where he always came easily.
“Just get on with it- please Phil I’m begging you-”
“Shh baby, give me a second.” Phil stood and got the essential oil that still sat on the table near Dan’s head. That’d be efficient lube right? Oh well. Close enough. “Turn over baby, I’ve gotta prep you.”
Dan obeyed and flipped onto his stomach once again, except this time he stuck his ass in the air. His head rested on his forearms and his knees were bent and sitting on the table, giving him the perfect back arch. Phil’s first thought was that he’s never seen an arch like this outside of porn, and his second thought was “damn I’m lucky.”
As Phil gently rubbed circles on Dan’s hip, he thrusted one finger in. He felt how tight Dan was and needed to know something, “Oh princess are you a virgin?”
“I- I mean- No- I-”
“Daniel have you ever been with a boy before? What about stretching yourself?”
“Once in college I had a one night stand with some guy, but other than that no. I’ve always thought I was straight until-"Dan cut off feeling embarrassed,” Until I saw you,“
Phil chuckled deeply and just went back to thrusting his finger in and out of Dan’s hole. Dan groaned and tried to rub his hard on against the table, bit Phil was holding his hips up. Once again denying him any temporary pleasure.
As Phil stretched Dan he left kisses and nips everywhere. He kissed his inner thighs, his lower back, his hips, his ass. Almost every inch of Dan had been grazed by Phil’s lips by the time he was done. Dan had been whining the whole time, begging for the process to be hurried up, pushing his ass back against Phil’s fingers. But Phil was just taking his sweet time, praising Dan every now and then.
When Phil declared Dan prepped, he started to push in. Letting out little praises with each inch sinking into Dan. "Good job baby, taking me so well, so tight and perfect for me.” Dan bit down on his knuckles to conceal his moans.
Once Phil bottomed out Dan let out a whorish moan and begged him to move. His wish was granted and Phil began to slowly thrust in and out of Dan.
“Please Phil! More! Give me more!”
“God Dan, so needy,”
Dan looked over his shoulder in the sexiest way possible with the awkward position and pleaded, “Phil, I need you to fuck me. Make me feel this for weeks. Make it so I never forget your name. Fuck me until I can’t walk please~” He blinked up innocently and saw Phil throw his head back and thrust hard into him once. Thank god.
Phil started to fuck into him hard enough that Dan’s legs gave out beneath him. When he found Dan’s prostate Dan screamed beneath him and let out little pleas, although he was already getting everything he wanted. Phil gripped Dan’s hips hard enough to leave marks as he heard these pleas. Dan moaned and bit the table beneath him, completely blissed out.
“Beg me for your release Dan”
“God- Please- fuckfuckfuck Phil I need it, let me cum- please!” he panted out between thrust.
Phil released his grip on Dan’s right side, and reached forward to pump Dan’s cock.
“Hmm, I don’t believe you want it that bad. I think you could beg a lot better than that baby boy.”
Dan fucked himself back on Phil’s dick and shamelessly called out pleas, as his dignity was long gone at this point.
“There we go, that’s more like it, good boy, cum for me.”
Dan listened and came with a shout right after the comment had been made. He felt a shock of pleasure run through his body and shuttered, relaxing down onto the table again and letting Phil finish inside him.
When Phil saw the completely blissed out boy beneath him he moaned loudly and came inside Dan. After a moment of euphoria he pulled out and sat Dan up so he could clean up the cum off of him.
“Well baby, if you’d like to do that again, I could give you my number?” Phil winked and handed him a card. A business card.
Dan blushed - he left with his body completely relaxed and mind whirring. How was he going to tell Lucy?
A/N: im also accepting prompts all the time so like if u want u can request anything u want
I went through the fics saved on my Kindle aka I read them at least thrice (not the recently bookmarked ones on ao3 or on my laptop) and here are what I found. The order is mainly sorted by authors’ names and texts in italics are my comments. I try not to spoil them for you guys and only include tags the authors use.
Of course, a refusal to apologise and a handjob on the floor of a fitting room does not reparations make.
Eggsy left the shop that night with a new chip on the shoulder of his new suit. Harry left the shop that night with the knowledge of what Eggsy looked like flushed and trembling with pleasure under his hands and the certainty that this single torturous taste of what he wanted most was worth living with the possibility that he would not get another.
“Caution in the field isn’t confined to simply an awareness of your surroundings,” Harry says, his tone stern but his breath soft and warm against the back of Eggsy’s hand. His gaze lifts, his eyes hooded as he peers at Eggsy over the rims of his glasses. “You’ve told a lie, Eggsy, and now that lie must be truth.”
(Or, that time Eggsy scored them a better table by saying it was his and Harry’s anniversary and quickly grew to regret it.)
“What sort of aggression is it then?” Eggsy asks, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
Harry knows even before he hears the response. Knows because even as Merlin is saying, “It appears to affect sexual responses. Activating latent desire and cranking up the subject’s sex drive whilst simultaneously increasing pheromone production,” Harry is thinking primarily of the distance between himself and Eggsy and how very few steps it would take to be within range to push the boy to the floor and pin him there.
“You know, you almost fooled me yesterday with the whole I want to watch the legacies speech,” Merlin says and Harry groans, because he knows things just went tits up. “Well, I suppose you were half telling the truth. You wanted to watch one certainlegacy, but it was more about his mouth, eyelashes and that thing on his eyebrow you can’t seem to stop staring at.”
Harry head snaps up at that. “Oh, shite.”
“Oh, yes,” the agent keeps going, completely enjoying this. “You forgot to turn off your feed. I saw the flirting. And Lee’s reaction. Good luck with that.”
Eggsy pulled furtively at the ropes binding his arms and legs to the metal tracks, as if he’d forgotten the last five minutes already. God, though. Before he’d felt trapped, terrified; now it was more like he was… at Harry’s mercy.
There are three-hundred and twenty-six members in Kingsman’s tech departments all over the world, and obviously they have lots of stories to share about their agents and what they do to drive them crazy.
The best way to do so is a super-secret WhatsApp group, and if it gets a challenge for all of them to finally get Harry and Eggsy together, it might just be Merlin’s fault.
A chronic of Harry’s and Eggsy’s love, following them from their first meeting to the last time they set eyes on each other, through shots in the head and falling in love and finally getting their shit together.
Harry survived V-Day - because of course he did - but not all the Kingsman agents were so lucky. With the world still going to shit and the worst staff shortage since the organisation began, Merlin calls a group of retired agents back to their posts to help out while he trains the new recruits.
Featuring snowball fights, banter, innuendo, handsome old men, lady scientists, secrets in walking sticks, Harry’s appalling crush, thumbnails of bigger pictures, a pastede on plot crammed in around all the flirting which is really just an excuse for me to write a silly sword fight, and an old bet from 1986 that’s still not been decided.
“I am entirely capable,” Harry proclaims cuttingly to Merlin, puffed up like a prissy cat. And Merlin throws his arms skyward like he’s just begging for lightning to strike ‘im where he stands and asks, with scathing exasperation, “Of what, waddling up to someone and ruthlessly bumping into them?”
And Eggsy one hundred percent doesn’t snicker, and he’s got the bloody inner cheek to prove it, ‘cause Eggsy’s a fuckin’ gentleman.
Instead Eggsy takes in the sight of ‘is pregnant mate, huge as a fuckin’ planet and still the most bloody gorgeous man he’s ever seen. And then takes in ‘is face, and he wonders how much ice cream he’s gonna need to buy to get them all through the four weeks of bed rest Merlin just ordered.
And then Harry’s upper lip looks like it might fuckin’ quiver, and Eggsy contemplates just buyin’ stock in Ben and Jerry’s.
The Weeping Angels, Eggsy reads on the stolen Torchwood intel. Aliens that pose as statues, and kill their victims by sending them back in time and feeding off their years not lived in the present. The politest psychopaths in the universe, a note reads, scrawled in what looks like a doctor’s chicken scratch on the edge of the page by someone who clearly had a perverse sense of humour. A one way trip, the report concludes; you get transported by the angels, and it’s the slow road back to the present for you.
Eggsy lays his head back on the wall, takes stock of his situation. He’s lost 30 years - three years more than his entire lifespan up ’til now - in the blink of an eye, and now he’s stuck here, in 1988. Three years before he’s even born. Arthur, the prick, is sure to be heading up the Kingsmen, and Merlin, if he’s even there would be…20, maybe. Fuck, so fucking young.
Shite, even Harry’d only be…
Alive, Eggsy thinks, and finds himself sitting down hard from where his knees can’t hold him. This is 1988, and Harry’s 23, and alive.
Suddenly, being stuck in 1988 doesn’t seem so bad.
Eggsy whips around to find Harry Hart standing right behind him, holding a martini glass and just as gorgeous as Eggsy last saw him, three years and two months ago.
Thankfully, Eggsy is too busy staring in shock to actually say anything in response, because Harry then says, “Excuse my poor manners. Harry Hart. And you are?” And then extends his hand, which is how Eggsy remembers that he’s not supposed to be Eggsy Unwin right now; he’s actually undercover.
He sees Westminster Abbey. Instead of a burst of civic and national pride, it feels like someone has just punched him in the chest. Harry stumbles, nearly falls over, and he can suddenly see bright Southern sunlight, he can smell the scent of blood all over him, his shoulder aches where someone’s just stabbed him, there are bullet bruises all over his back. There’s someone screaming in the distance and he can see flat, brown eyes facing him down the barrel of a silenced gun.
He winds up crouched, retching on the floor of a public loo, head between his knees, breathing high and fast through his teeth while Merlin’s voice, quiet and calm and grounding in his ear tells him just stay there, Arthur, someone’s coming, and someone comes.
Eggsy’s words are ‘What’s your name, young man?’, but Harry’s isn’t ‘Eggsy.’ So he keeps quiet, keeps it to himself, but when he finds himself face to face with a younger Harry Hart, Eggsy can’t help falling in love all over again.
Sometimes, the first words you say to your soulmate aren’t the first they hear from you.
“The international community is in chaos this morning in the wake of the deaths of many world leaders. The death of the president of the United States has been confirmed, along with the majority of his cabinet. Great Britain can count itself lucky that the Queen has been found and finally returned to her throne, but her heirs are another story. It appears that both princes and their own heirs are among the casualties of what is being referred to as the Valentine’s Day Massacre. Sources close to–”
It just so happens that there is another direct heir to the British throne out there, but he’s probably going to need a bit of polish.
“It’s from the gentleman over there,” replies the waitress, pointing over her shoulder.
“Err….” Now, Eggsy knows he’s pissed. He learned his limits and exceeded them back in Cambridge, so being drunk off his arse is nothing new. He also knows that he can finish his pint and maybe get away with one more drink before he’s making a raucous or somehow getting involved in a fight, but he certainly can’t handle six more cocktails of Irish alcohol.
“Invite him over,” he tells her with an easy smile.
Or, the drunken one night stand Eggsy thought he’d never see again until he does and they have sex again.
But sometimes at night after waking up from dreams (nightmares) where Valentine wasn’t afraid of blood and Gazelle wasn’t so enamored with the lisping psychopath Harry wakes in the dark all too sure he’s dead.
Harry’s chest hitches on an indrawn breath. The contours of his face are cast dramatically in the fiery hues of the street at night, highlighting the wrinkle in his forehead and the soft slope of his chin and the silvery pink of his scar.
He’s beautiful, and Eggsy loves him.
“I miss you.” The confession falls. It lands heavily onto the pavement, cracking into the asphalt. “You’re alive, you’re right in fucking front of me, and I still miss you.”
Watching the light spread in those heavy-lidded eyes, seeing the small twitch at the corner of his mouth - the only other physical sign he had strength enough to give - was more than enough to know for sure.
Eggsy was fucked.
Or: In a world rapidly descending into anarchy in the wake of V-Day, Kingsman - under the guidance of it’s new Arthur - must decide whether or not to abandon its hitherto undercover nature and save the the world from itself.
“This is your next target,” Merlin said into Harry’s earpiece, as Harry leaned forward to look at his laptop screen.
It blacked out, for a moment, then a clip out of some interview began to play. The video was in black and white, crisply and tightly shot, its subject a young man shown seated from the waist up, against a pale gray background, grinning at the camera. He was probably in his mid twenties, dressed down in a black leather jacket over a pale t-shirt, loose over denim jeans, his hair long enough to feather slightly over his forehead, a hint of stubble over his chin. He was also, quite possibly, the most beautiful young man Harry had ever seen, and disturbingly… familiar, somehow.
As the young man laughed noiselessly at the camera, elegant serif type faded over the lower third of the screen: Gary Unwin, by Vanity Fair. Harry blinked, and studied the young man’s pretty face more closely, the crinkling around his eyes, the joyous curl to his mouth, the way he sat, relaxed yet alert, like a hunting hound, waiting to come to heel.
In the glade where the star had fallen, the gloom of the gnarled old woods was deeper than night, save around the blackberry bush that had broken his fall: the grass and the battered leaves were now luminous, moon-touched. There was a long pause, broken by the sounds of twittering insects and the forest folk, then, there was a loudly groaned, “Fuck!”
The star rubbed a hand over his eyes, then flinched and held his hand up, spreading unfamiliar fingers up against the night sky. He turned his hand this way and that, curling and uncurling fingers, then he let out a softer, yet just as vehement “fuck!” and sat up, wincing.
⭐ Calm Like You - MartinShostakovich. E, 10k. Teacher/student AU.
Eggsy develops a heavy crush on his new Classical Literature Professor Harry Hart, and strives to reach the top of the class in order to impress him. Little did Eggsy know, Mr. Hart is fairly easy to impress.
It’s a rainy Monday when Eggsy Unwin is killed in the line of duty. And it’s a rainy Tuesday when Harry Hart starts to feel that there is something very wrong with the world now. As one tragic event after another unfolds, he becomes convinced that Eggsy was never meant to die. Somehow he has to put things right again and find a way to get Eggsy back. No matter what the cost.
The night before the final test, Harry makes Eggsy a promise: once he is a Kingsman, they will talk about their future together. Then V-Day happens, and although Harry recovers, he doesn’t remember that last day he spent with Eggsy. Now Eggsy has to carry on like his heart isn’t breaking every time he looks at Harry and he thinks about what they might have had. He manages to do a good job of it, though, keeping things between them strictly professional.
So then, of course, Harry remembers.
⭐ One Night - Nickygp. E, 53k. Judge!Harry, rentboy!Eggsy.
Harry Hart, a Lord Justice, has his life turned upside down when he meets a young rentboy, named Eggsy, who charms his way into Harry’s heart. But can he act upon those feelings, or are their cirmustances too different to breach the gap?
The first time Harry Hart threatens to end Eggsy’s step-father, it’s a bluff.
The second time is going to be a promise.
⭐ No Charm Equal- potentiality_26. E, 29k. Cupid AU. The one that got me hooked on this author.
To say that Harry was too surprised to react at first would have been a grave understatement. He wasn’t literally invisible, because he did sometimes need to interact with mortals to do his job, he was just unnoticeable. People- the particular charge he had been assigned to most of all- were meant to see him and yet never actually process his presence. Unless he showed up in their houses- which a gentleman would never do, of course- they would ignore him and just get on with their lives. And yet here Eggsy was, closer than anyone had been to Harry since- well, since he was mortal, and that was long enough ago that Harry could hardly remember it- snarling, “Why are you following me?”
“Kiss me,” he murmured when he reached Harry, because while it wasn’t exactly vital to the mission that Eggsy convince this woman that they were in love, it would certainly make him feel better. Harry pressed his mouth to Eggsy’s as he passed him a glass of champagne, and ‘feeling better’ went out the window. The kiss was quick, sweet, marital. Eggsy didn’t know how Harry made it feel so practiced, but he did.
“I have an admirer,” Eggsy informed him, almost breathless with how much he wanted Harry to kiss him like that every day, how much he wanted Harry to have a reason to.
Five times Eggsy gets Harry to kiss him for the wrong reasons (and one time he gets it right).
Harry stated the obvious, something he should have seen that morning but hadn’t: “You shopped.”
“I been here quite a bit,” Eggsy explained, shrugging one shoulder. “And anyway it seemed… better. Food in the fridge, nothing gathering dust. Made it more like you’d be back any day now.” Eggsy swiped his knife over the bread with a little more aggression than was strictly necessary, but his voice was very even. “You said you’d come back and sort things. But you didn’t.”
Harry comes back a week after V-Day. He isn’t strictly alive, but that means less than he would have expected it to.
Harry is a celebrated food critic. Eggsy is a Youtube-famous food blogger. They meet at the grand opening of Mediterranean restaurant Mallorca when they’re forced to share a table. It’s a meal, and a night, neither will soon forget.
Out of all of the blokes occupying their flat, Harry was the one Eggsy saw the most, and yet they had only ever shared passing greetings. It was a growing source of disappointment for Eggsy; he was strangely drawn to Harry and his gorgeous brown hair and eyes.
In the wake of V-day the world’s economy hangs in a delicate balance, liable to crumble without warning. One man has the knowledge and the power necessary to send it tumbling down, so that only he remains on top.
The Kingsman have been tasked with stopping him before he can carry out his plan. In order to do so, Harry and Eggsy must act as lovers at an elite couple’s getaway to earn this man’s trust. Will they be able to carry out their mission as planned? Or will old wounds and buried emotions cause a havoc greater than anything they could have expected?
It wasn’t unusual, Eggsy told himself. There were plenty of people- just a little under half of the world’s population, really- that weren’t with their soulmates. Some of them just hadn’t met yet; others had died beforehand; and then there were the people in Eggsy’s situation. Sometimes people genuinely didn’t want their soulmates. Either they were in love with someone else, or they just didn’t like what they got stuck with, and Eggsy imagined the latter was very much the case with him and Harry. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have felt like for him, the world’s prime example of a posh bloke, to have his soulmate be some beaten-up kid. He would have rejected him too.
Or: soulmate AU where you know your soulmate from the moment you touch them, and when you do, their name gets written over your heart like a brand. But that’s not always a guarantee.
⭐ Tailor Shop - rougewinter. E, 13k. Like a Disney movie except really gay and for grown-ups.
“There’s no need for that now.” The older man said, both hands raised in a placating gesture that only had Eggsy narrowing his eyes in wariness.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Eggsy demanded, making sure to keep the poker up.
“My name is Harry Hart. And I’m the man, well, the mannequin that you just assembled.”
The one where Harry is cursed to be a magical mannequin and can only be saved by the power of love.
He does not only recognize this man, he knows him. Harry knows the way he laughs and the way he would smile cheekily at Harry. He knows the way this man say his name, all rough cockney accent and confidence. Harry knows him better than Harry knows himself but none of that matter because Harry does not remember his name.
“Harry–"Eggsy breaks off, because, god, Harry’s here! He’s alive, breathing, beautiful, and he’s got Eggsy crushed in his arms and Eggsy can feel his mouth tingling from the roughness of his kiss.
Then Harry pulls back; more-so he shoves Eggsy away. He keeps him pinned to the wall, at arms length, and Eggsy is pleased to see Harry is panting, stray chocolate hairs fallen out of place. The action, however, makes his blood feel cold, and he stares up at Harry in confusion, expecting something more. But Harry makes no move to close the space between them again.
When Harry speaks, finally, it’s low and deadly and it fucking hurts.
Eggsy crashes his stepfather’s car into the front window of a quaint but reputable tailor’s shop on Savile Row and, thanks to the charitable spirit of its mysterious owner, ends up working there to pay the damages.
Plenty of people had looked down on Eggsy throughout his life. He had gotten fairly used to it. Didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. What really sucked was that the new Arthur was worse than the old one.
“Eggsy grimaced. He didn’t know how to explain to Harry – who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life – that the new Arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”
Magnus Bane deserves our utmost respect if not love
Magnus Bane is fucking huge.
He doesn’t have to stand on his tiptoes to reach Alec’s lips.
His shoulders and arms are huge.
He is the one stretching Alec’s shirts, not the other way around.
He is not a tiny thing swimming in his boyfriend’s clothes.
Magnus Bane has lived for centuries.
Through abuse and racism. Through wars and cruelty. Through heartbreak and loss.
He knows what pain is.
He has been both on the receiving and the giving end of it.
And yet, he kept a kind heart, that he is afraid of giving away because he knows that in the end he will suffer.
But when his loves someone, he does so wholeheartedly.
Magnus Bane is incredibly powerful and amazing.
He is kind and generous, and understanding and supportive.
But he is not afraid to call people out on their bullshit.
Magnus Bane will protect his people and the ones he loves with his whole being even if he has to die to keep them safe.
Magnus Bane does not live to be Alec Lightwood’s boyfriend.
He has a life outside of this relationship, he has friends.
He is the fucking High Warlock of Brooklyn.
He has clients and spells and potions and responsibilities that keep him up at night.
He is part of the downworld council.
He owns a freaking night club.
He has warlocks and downworlders in general who look up to him, who ask him for advice and protection.
He is capable of feeling anger and frustration.
He has an important job and feelings and wants and needs.
Magnus Bane is not a damsel in distress.
He is the son of a fallen angel which means that his magic is fucking powerful.
But so is hid body. He is not a frail thing. He has rock hard abs, broad shoulders, huge ass biceps and thick thighs.
He is damn well able to handle himself in wars and battle and has done so, is doing so and will do so.
Magnus Bane is the most gorgeous man to ever walk this earth.
I just described his body, which is pure sin, but his fucking face.
The goatee. The spiked up with with colored streaks. The jaw so sharp you could cut yourself on it. The perfect eyebrows. The golden cat eyes and the deep brown glamour. The lips. The grace and elegance with which he moves. The outfits. The s m i l e s.
Just fuck me up already.
Magnus Bane has the sharpest tongue ever known to man.
He knows how to cut someone into pieces and make people believe in him with words only.
Magnus Bane has flaws.
He probably falls in love too hard and too fast.
He can be blinded by his feelings.
He has had thoughts of self harm and suicide.
He is not perfect.
But he damn well is an amazing main character and deserves to be treated and written as such.
Title: Closing Time Author: Casloveshisfreckles Artist: keylimedean Rating: Explicit Pairings: Dean/Cas Warnings/Tags: Brewer!Dean, Professor!Cas, Dean has tattoos and a beard, College Roommates to Lovers, Sam ships it, Music is their love language, Be prepared to hate Aaron, Ellen and Bobby raised the Winchesters, College baseball player Dean, Public declarations of love Posting Date: 11/9/2017
Summary: Dean Winchester’s college years felt like the greatest of his life: School came easy, he was the starting first baseman for the KU Jayhawks and he was in love with the smartest, nerdiest, hottest guy in school, who also happened to be his roommate. They were the definition of Relationship Goals. Until they weren’t. Until Cas left.
If you asked Castiel Novak why he was back in Lawrence after 10 years, he’d tell you it was because of a great job opportunity. If you knew Castiel, you’d know it was because of Dean Winchester. But Dean had moved on, successfully running his bar, brewing his own beer, tattooed and still the most gorgeous man Castiel had ever laid eyes on. Oh and? He was taken.
Dean wants to, but forgiving Cas isn’t easy, and finding their way back to each other after all this time is like searching for a hand in the dark. Sometimes, ten years is ten years too late.
- - -
There it was again, we. Castiel felt sick, thinking of his Dean with this guy. He admonished himself; Dean wasn’t his and hadn’t been for a long time. And now, there was Aaron, comfortable in a place Castiel used to stand, a place that used to feel like home. Castiel was ready to leave.
“You should definitely come back next week. Like I said, we’re revealing the whole line of beers on Friday. Catch our Open Mic night too.” Aaron hadn’t lost his enthusiasm for a minute. It was getting exhausting.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it, thanks. Tell your, uh, boss that the beer is good. Is he here tonight?” Castiel hoped he sounded casual.
“Nah, man. Dean teaches guitar lessons down at the Y on Wednesday nights, but you can come back next Friday and tell him yourself. He’ll be glad to hear it. Plus, if you’re going to be living around here, you should meet him and our wayward family. We’ve got quite a group of regulars around here.”
We we we. Every single we was like a punch to Castiel’s gut. He ached, thinking of all he had lost just within these walls alone. Castiel was a part of that family, long before Aaron. A real family that chose him, not one that was forced to put up with him, one that made sure he knew how much he disappointed them still, despite everything he had given up to try and please them.
Castiel needed to get the fuck out of there.
He dropped a ten on the bar and quickly turned toward the exit. Aaron called out a good night, but he just put his head down and walked faster. He felt like a fool for being upset, for feeling jealous over something he should have seen coming and he clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. Castiel climbed into his truck and started it up, peeling out of the parking lot before he lost it right then and there. He kept it together until he pulled into his new driveway and only then did he fall apart, the tears he was desperately trying to stop streaming down his face.
It was stupid coming back to Lawrence. It was really stupid going to The Roadhouse knowing Dean wasn’t there and spying on his life. Castiel felt like a fool. Dean had moved on, he had Aaron now. He didn’t need Castiel and his fucked up priorities, his callous decision making, and his lifelong track record of selfishness. Dean deserved better than what Castiel could offer.
word count: really fuckin long (9269) warnings: swearing, violence, the torture kind, mitch being hot as always
You sat at the kitchen table of your cabin home, a glass of water in your hands as you watched the outdoors curiously. A black SUV had pulled in front of the house, a woman leaving it but you could tell that there were others in it. You stood up, wandering closer and wrapping your cardigan around your tank top and shirts to preserve your warmth as you opened the door, just enough to hear what was going on outside.