#and the only thing I can remember is he’s constantly on the edge of having a panic attack

[reese-tasteslikepepsicola]

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Naked part 2

! READ PART 1. Link down at the very end of this post <3 !

Summary: After Peter sees you naked, he cant stop thinking about it, it’s the only thing he can think about.

Warnings: Peter is a charming loser Mentions of reader being curvy (Srry I’m giving my curvy girls love), kinda smutty but not? Kissing, groping, alcohol consumption. Based on New Girl <3

•

Peter lays on his bed, his head wondering to the night before.

Your naked body remains imprinted in his head like a picture, he can remember every detail about.

Your curves, your breasts that he would’ve respectfully grabbed if you let him—if Lauren wasn’t there watching in horror, and your cute ass.

If you told him to get on his knees, kiss your ankles and go down on you, he would do it in an instant—if Lauren wasn’t there.

Peter came to the conclusion at that very moment that he wanted—needed you in his arms at all times.

He didn’t want to just have sex, he wanted to be your boyfriend and treat you like how you should be treated.

Anytime you crossed his mind, his face would heat up and he’d start smiling and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl—it was pissing him off.

You guys always made it clear that you enjoyed being friends and taunting each other for fun.

You both argue too much and are constantly at each other’s throats, something romantic could never happen…right?

You hadn’t spoken to him since you…flashed him with Lauren being there. You were too embarrassed to leave your room after that, refusing to leave your room until Lauren had left and broke contact with Peter.

Deciding to swallow down your worry and embarrassment, you hesitantly knocked on Peter’s door,

“Come in!” Opening the door, you slapped your hand on your closed eyes,

“You don’t have to cover your eyes, y/n. I told you to come in” Peter stated, pretending to be annoyed at your presence even though he was actually waiting for you to come talk to him since the incident,

“Sorry! Just thought we’ve both seen enough nudity these past couple of days” Peter let out a chuckle and nodded, sitting at the edge of his bed with his arms crossed and his legs man spreading, looking up at you,

“I came in here to um—talk?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked,

“Talk?” You nodded and whistled, looking around his room awkwardly,

“Yep!” He sat there, waiting for you to say something, his head cockily tilting to the side,

“Your probably wondering why I was laying naked on the floor in your bedroom last night” You said.

He nodded and pursed his lips, hiding a smile,

“You cock blocked me and scared away a poor, innocent girl” He said, laughing. Rolling your eyes, you slapped his chest,

“I know! I feel so bad. She’ll forever know me as the scary naked girl who was hiding in her sneaky link’s bedroom” He shook his head and laughed again,

“I was trying to make it even between us, y’know? I saw your naked body, and I’ll show you my naked body!” You explained. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed,

“Yeah, I get why you did that. Why’d you have to do it when Lauren was coming over, though?” He teased, smirking up at you. You scoffed and shoved him by the forehead,

“I didn’t know she was coming over! You could’ve given the group chat a heads up!” He nodded and stared at the ground,

“So, did you like…see my, y’know…kitty cooter?” You asked awkwardly, poking at his shoulder with a grin.

He cringed and groaned at the word you used,

“I did! I saw everything. Also—kitty cooter? Just call it a vagina at that point” It was your turn to cringe and groan,

“Ew! The word ‘vagina’ sounds absolutely terrible coming out of your mouth, Parker. Never use that word around me again” He scoffed and threw his hands up in defence,

“Geez! Sorry for calling it the scientifically correct name. Never use ‘kitty cooter’ around me again, alright?”

-

“Since when did you have friends that weren’t me?” Peter asked Ned, as he glanced around the loft that was filled with at least thirteen people,

“I can have friends that aren’t just you. Surprise!” Ned said, scoffing,

“You could’ve asked y/n, Mj and I that you were going to throw a fucking party, dude” He shrugged and grabbed a beer from the fridge, handing it to Peter,

“Didn’t know I had to ask for permission, Daddy” Peter scrunched up his face and took a swig of the beer,

“Whatever” He leaned against the fridge and continued sipping it, starting to wonder where you and Mj were,

“What the hell?!” There you were.

You and Mj had shopping bags in your hands, struggling to hold them all as you scanned the loft full of people in annoyance,

“Who let humans in our loft!” Mj yelled over the music, catching your shoulder with her free hand when you began to lose balance in your steps,

“Let me help” Peter jogged over to you both and grabbed some of the bags,

“Did you invite these people, here? I thought we were your only friends, Parker” You said. He rolled his eyes and slung your purse over his shoulder with sass,

“I didn’t know about this party, either. Ned invited them without telling us” Mj groaned and dropped the bags on the floor,

“I hate it here. I’m going to my room and not coming out until these people leave” She walked away down the hall to her bedroom. You began following along behind her,

“I’m doing the same” Peter trailed behind you like a lost puppy, now holding every single bag you brought home. Getting into your room, you shut the door and pointed to your bed,

“Put the bags there, Bug-boy” He tossed the bags,

“Gently!” You shoved him out the way and double checked that nothing in them broke,

“You’re welcome, Princess” Peter scoffed, sitting down in your fluffy pink chair, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head.

You turned around to face him and almost gasped as his happy trail was showing from where his shirt lifted up. Your attention then focused to how his big muscles flexed through his white shirt.

Jesus Christ.

“So…big” You mumbled as you stared at him. He raised an eyebrow,

“What was that?” Your eyes widened,

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything! Shut up the fuck up” He snorted and ran a hand through his hair,

“Where’d you and Mj go today?” He asked, now manspreading.

Can he stop sitting like a bitch, for fuck sake?

“Uh—we went to Sephora, Walmart, the food court and Victoria Secret. When we were at Victoria Secret this old lady called me a whore for looking at this lingerie set that looked like two tiny triangles and a string of floss” You rolled your eyes at the memory.

He laughed and stood up, walking over to you,

“Aw, that sucks. Old people, am I right?” He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a hug. You froze before nuzzling into his arms, sighing contently with your eyes closed, sniffing his armpit,

“Did you just sniff my armpit?” He asked. You could hear a smile in his voice,

“Pffttt—no, I’m not weird” He smirked and hugged tighter, his bicep now completely covering your face.

Is he doing this on purpose?

“You are pretty weird” You hummed to what he said, not recalling paying attention to anything but him.

“Never let go” The words left your mouth before you could really stop them,

“What?”

“What?”

-

“Chug, chug, chug, chug!” Everyone chanted as you and Peter were seeing who could chug down a beer faster. You managed to finish first which had everybody cheering and a couple of people ruffling your hair,

“Lick me, Parker!” You yelled, shoving his shoulder. Peter groaned and tossed the can away,

“I wish” He whispered to himself, but smiling as he watched you awkwardly dance in victory to the Pitbull song playing,

“Let’s play a game!” Ned yelled, drunkenly slinging an arm around your shoulder.

-

“We close our eyes and hold up a number on our fingers, and then on the count of three we open our eyes. Whoever is holding up the same number has to kiss!”

You and Ned sat next to each other while Peter sat across from you, next to a girl named Emily while she sat across from Ned.

Everyone was slowly starting to form little groups, playing different games together since it was still early in the night. You and Peter somehow got roped into playing this stupid game together,

“What are we, twelve?! This game is so stupid” You complained. Peter nodded along to what you were saying,

“Exactly! Also, Ned, I’m not kissing you if we hold up the same number” Ned scoffed,

“Why are you acting like we’ve never made out, before, Peter?” You looked at the both of them confused,

“Wait—

“We never kissed! Anyways, I’m only gonna play if y/n plays” He said, shrugging and staring you down nonchalantly. You squinted your eyes at him and looked over at Emily and asked,

“You playing?” She shrugged and then nodded,

“Okay, cool. I’m playing, then” Peter smiled and leaned forward so that his face was only inches from your’s,

“Damn. I guess I’m playing as well” Your breath hitched at his low tone,

“Yep! I’m playing, too” You repeated, mentally slapping yourself at your weird behaviour,

“Right. I’m gonna play, yep” He said back, now both of you becoming awkward once you guys realized how close your faces were,

“Ahem!” Emily cleared her throat in annoyance, breaking you guys out of your odd, repetitive conversation,

“Everybody shut your eyes, please!” You all did so before Ned began to count,

“Alright, open your eyes” Emily and Ned both had two fingers held up,

“Sweet!” He whispered under his breath before leaning in to kiss Emily.

Peter couldn’t hide his discouraged self when he opened his eyes to see that you both were holding up different.

After two more rounds of just Ned and Emily holding up the same number every time, Peter was getting fed up,

“I’m getting tired of watching you guys kiss, y’know” He said, still staring at you. In fact, he hadn’t stopped staring at you this whole game, this whole night,

“Honestly, me too. At this point, I’ll kiss anyone!” You stated, staring at everybody who was in the room, except for Peter himself. He couldn’t help but frown at that, now feeling like his feelings were one-sided,

“Fine! One more round, okay?” Ned said, closing his eyes and starting to count down to three,

“Open your eyes!” Coincidentally, you and Peter were both holding up four fingers. His heart sped up as he began to blush, but his face fell when he heard your groan and throw your head back,

“No way! I’m not kissing him!” He began to become defensive now, his way of hiding his hurt feelings,

“Well, I don’t want to kiss you either, y/l/n! And by the way, you said you’d kiss anyone!” You rolled your eyes and stood up,

“Whatever! Goodnight” Peter stood up as well in a hurry,

“Goodnight, as well!” He began to trail behind you as you made your way to the hallways to your bedroom,

“Why are you following me?!” You yelled, turning around and flailing your arms,

“I don’t know!?” He yelled back as you guys made your way to your room, the door being slammed shut by Peter,

“Why are you in my room!?”

“I don’t know!?”

You both stood there, simply staring at each other with squinted eyes,

“I didn’t even want to join the party. I just wanted to watch a movie and go to bed ” you mumbled, sighing heavily and sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, leaning your back against it.

Peter did the same, sitting next to you, his head falling back against the frame,

“Damn. I wanted to invite Lauren over” You whipped your head around to look at him with a scowl, to end up seeing that he was grinning and looking at you already.

He was teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and bumped his shoulder,

“Not funny, Peter” He doesn’t know why, but the way his name rolled off your tongue had his spidey-senses tingling, his ‘Peter-tingle’ is what May would call it.

An awkward silence fell between you both. There had been many awkward silences since the ‘incident’ a couple of days ago. You guys saw each other naked for god’s sake! That would make any roommates and friends feel awkward for a bit, but it was coming up on a week that you and Peter had that unresolved tension.

Almost like you were reading his mind, you started to speak,

“There’s this weird feeling between us” He glanced over at you and pursed his lips,

“I kinda miss the old us, y’know? The us before we saw each other naked and vulnerable” You let out a small giggle at the end of your sentence. He smiled and scratched his eyebrow while nodding,

“No—yeah, I get what you’re saying” You leaned your head on his shoulder, catching him by surprise,

“I just thought that if I showed you my naked-self back it’d make things less awkward and have everything go back to being—normal?” He let go of a long breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and leaned his cheek on top of your head,

“It did kind of take away my embarrassment…but—

He cut himself and bit his lip,

“But, what?” He puffed out his cheeks and and rubbed his chin.

Just say how you feel, Peter.

“It took away my embarrassment but—it also made me feel things?” You grew confused and raised your head from his shoulder to look at him,

“Feel things?” He looked down in shyness,

“Like—I couldn’t get you off my mind after I saw you in my room…naked” Your face became hot to the touch at his words,

“Not just your naked body, by the way! You’re so much more than your body! What I mean is that—

“Everybody is leaving!” Ned swung the door open, cutting Peter off,

“Oh! Finally” you quickly stood up and sprinted out the room, leaving Peter there to sulk on your bedroom floor,

“You gonna come and say goodbye?” Ned questioned, giving the Spider-boy a weird look,

“Just leave me alone to die”

“Um—okay. What an odd thing to say”

-

After saying goodbye and doing your nighttime routine in the bathroom, you made your way to your bedroom to find that Peter was no longer in there,

“What a weird night” You whispered to yourself, flopping down on your bed.

You started to think about what Peter had said before, about not being able to stop thinking about your naked body.

The way he said it, in such a nervous but charming way, had you clenching your legs together while replaying it in your head. Did you really have that much of an effect on his mind? Did he like you?

I mean, he did say it wasn’t just your body that he was thinking about. What would he have said if Ned didn’t open the door?

Meanwhile, Peter was in his room at his desk with his head in his hands, his head running wild with thoughts as well,

“You’re so stupid, Peter. You should’ve never said anything to her in the first place” His foot tapped on the ground anxiously, trying to decide if he should never talk to you again (which he knew was not possible and too dramatic), or if he should walk across the hall to your room and tell you everything he has been feeling.

-

Needing a distraction, you felt around for your phone on your bed, to your end table, and then groaned in annoyance when you remembered you forgot it in the bathroom,

“My god!” You lazily got out of bed and went to the bathroom, grabbed your phone, and started the seemingly endless walk back to your room,

“Holy shit!” You screamed in fear, placing a hand on your chest.

There stood Peter in the hallway,

“Sorry! It’s just me! It’s Peter!” You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead,

“Yeah, I know it’s you. Just—why are you standing like slenderman in the middle of the hallway?” He glared at you and ran a hand through his hair,

“I wanted to talk to you but, you look tired and annoyed so, I’ll just let you go to sleep, or whatever” You straightened your back and blinked, your heartbeat beginning to beat rapidly at his words,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”

Peter could sense your heartbeat deep in his ears and a smell that he couldn’t really put a name on, but he liked it, and he knew it meant you were excited. It’s times like these where he’s happy that he is spider-Man. The hairs on his neck stood up as he stepped a little closer to you,

“Your heart is beating really fast” He started to feel cocky as he watched you look down to avoid looking into his face, and how the smell of your arousal was becoming more intense. He placed his hand on your chest,

“Peter” He raised an eyebrow and smirked,

“Yeah?” You cleared your throat and awkwardly looked to the side,

“Your hand is on my boob. That is not my heart” His eyes widened as his cocky demeanour disappeared. He went to snatch his hand away, but to both of your guy’s embarrassment, his hand remained stuck to you,

“Um—

He tried taking it off again,

“I’m starting to think this is not your spider-ness, or whatever. I think you just wanted an excuse to keep your hand on my boob forever” His eyes bulged out of his head and continued to try and take his hand off,

“I did not do it on purpose! I’m sticky! It’s apart of me!” You slapped a hand on your forehead, and grabbed his wrist to make him stop pulling,

“Stop! Rip my shirt off” His face flushed at your words,

“I’m—what?”

“You heard me. You’ve already seen me naked, so just rip it off and we can—talk?” He nervously chuckled at your words,

“Are you sure? Cause—

“Peter”

“Okay, sorry! I’ll just—

A loud tearing sound could be heard,

“Wow”

He stared at your chest, suddenly getting déjà vu, but this time you were wearing a pretty white bra that had a small bow in the front instead of being completely naked.

You crossed your arms over your chest,

“Are we gonna talk, or?” You trailed off, whispering and looking up into his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and looked into your eyes as well,

“I, uh—we still haven’t kissed. We held up the same number, remember?” He said, walking so close to you that your back was almost against the wall.

Your ripped shirt that was still hanging from his hand finally detached, plopping onto the floor at your feet,

“Peter?” You whispered, biting your lip,

“Fuck” Peter grabbed your bare waist and pressed his lips onto your’s, a surprised gasp coming from you. You placed your arms on his shoulders and practically melted into him.

He felt relief when you didn’t pull away, instead tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging, grinding into him desperately. Remembering that you were still a human who has to breathe, you pulled away and took a deep, shaky breath, Peter as well. You glanced into each other’s eyes, chest moving rapidly,

“I like you” He whispered, gulping. You grinned and pull him back in by his face to your lips. His hands were now experimenting, rubbing your lower back, the straps of your bra, and then your breasts. He let out a high pitch pathetic moan when he squeezed them,

“I cant believe I’m squeezing your boobs right now” you snorted against his lips at his loser-like way of saying it.

You let out a gasp when he unexpectedly picked you up bridal style like you weighed nothing, his super-human strength causing your mind to lead to very sinful thoughts,

“I think it’s so hot your spider-man—and so, strong” You blurted out, staring up at his brown eyes as he kicked your bedroom door open. He smirked at that and gently laid you down on your bed. He stood at the foot of the bed and shrugged, flexing his biceps (on purpose),

“Thanks. I can lift cars and buildings, too. S’like, no big deal or whatever” He looked down at his feet and scratched the back of his neck,

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna like—come here and have sex with me— or?”

“Right! Shit, yeah! Um—

He took his shirt off, hurriedly pulled down his pants and let out an embarrassing girl-ish scream when he tripped over his pants and fell on the ground with a loud thud,

“Oh my god! Peter, are okay?!” His head popped up,

“Yep! Totally good! Don’t even worry about!”

He dove on the bed and made himself comfortable between your legs, making you giggle at his enthusiasm. You guys went back to making out, his kisses beginning to trail to your neck, shoulder, breasts, and stomach. He slowly slid your pyjama shorts down your legs and tossed them behind him. He placed a hand on your boob and the other in your underwear,

“Oh! Peter!” He raised an eyebrow and smirked,

“Wow, barely touched you and your already screaming my name” You screamed his name again and pointed to the window,

“No, Peter! You threw my new expensive shorts out the window!”

-

END

-

Author: I cut my bangs too short so now I’m going to class everyday with these short fuck-ass bangs

Here’s part 1 down below

#peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x stark!reader #spider man x you #spider man x reader #spider man fanfiction #spider man #spider man x reader smut #spider man x smut #spider man x y/n #spiderman #tom!peter x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom!peter smut #tom!peter #tom holland x reader #tom holland!peter parker x reader #tom holland #tom holland!peter parker #tom!peter parker x reader

[maybankswhore]

Can u maybe do something we're the reader says something like "I feel so safe w u" to bf jj and it kind of js makes him super happy because he knows she has trust issues

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader , pronouns used are she/her

summary: jj likes knowing he’s your safe place. basically really , really lovey-dovey couple.

warnings: mentions of anxiety , drug use ( smoking a joint with jj on the beach )

The air felt like a blanket as you laid underneath the sky decorations. Staring at the stars that twinkled in the dark , lighting up the high points of your face. Your head rested in JJ’s lap , inhaling the joint that he had rolled for the two of you earlier in the Twinkie , your body feeling at peace.

It was hard for you to relax most of the time. With everything happening , with everything that had happened already , you were constantly on edge. Looking over your shoulder , wondering when the next big wave of disaster would come and wipe you away. You lived in your anxiety , feeling swallowed.

Moments like these were rare. The moments where nothing else mattered. Where you didn’t think of the things that made you sad. Or the things the choices you’d have to make. Your brain felt empty of all things , and it felt so good.

The weed settling in your bloodstream , warming up all those aches and pains that bothered you. Settling the nausea in your stomach and helping you release all those negative energies.

JJ’s presence enveloped you , shielded you from all the bad things the world could create and throw your way. He anchored you to real life , to bring you back to reality when things got too hard. With him , no matter where you were , but especially there— on the beach , in the designated spot the two of you had claimed , was easily your safest and comfiest place.

You were snapped out of your trance , humming when you felt JJ’s calloused fingertips trace over the skin of your face gently. Your eyes fluttered open , looking up at him as he stared at you. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was messy— and looking at him caused your heart to lurch , to feel all the good things being in love could make you feel.

“What’re you thinking about?” JJ questioned , pinching at the scrunched part of your nose.

“You.” You answered softly , reaching up to mirror his actions. Your hands felt every detail of his face , memorizing the way they felt so you’d never forget him , never forget how soft and beautiful he looked even if you’d go blind and never see it again— you’d remember him in the purest part of your soul.

Your answer made him blush , a sheepish smile on his face as he captured your hand and kissed the palm to hide his embarrassment. “Me?!”

“You.”

“About how sexy and hot I am?” JJ joked , making you giggle.

“No.” You shook your head. Sitting up , you crossed your legs and turned to face him , lazily draping your arms around his shoulders. You leaned into him , kissing at his lips softly. He tasted of weed and stale beer , a hint of caramel from the sundae the two of you shared earlier. JJ kissed you back , falling into the way your lips molded with his in it’s own perfect way. Feeling like finding the missing piece to a puzzle you had been working on for years.

“I was just thinking about how I feel.” You said once you pulled away , cupping his cheeks. “How I always feel so safe , so comfortable.” You felt as though your heart was singing. Every book you read , every movie you watched that you used to complain about how cliche they were , how a love like that was only ever in fiction. But it was real , and it was now and you felt JJ heal every part of you that you didn’t know needed healing. He took the bad parts of you and loved them anyway.

Your words had caused a dull ache in JJ’s chest. Not the ache that hurt , but the kind that settled there. The kind he’d only ever feel for you , about you. He always felt like you deserved more because he only had so much to give— but he had never felt more right for you right now. Because to know that you had been able to find safety within in was worth way more than anything money could buy. Hearts swirled in his eyes as he stared at you , taking a mental screenshot of you with your beauty raw— eyes hooded and red , face bare with soft imperfections littered around the skin.

“I feel the same about you.” JJ told you softly , a sweet grin on his face. “I can be whoever I am , in the deepest parts of me that I’m too scared for anyone else to see. You make me feel seen.”

It was just you and JJ there on that beach , under the stars that watched two lovers fall in love over and over again , for as long as they could. For as long as the world allowed.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks imagines #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank outer banks #obx fanfiction #jj obx #obx imagine #outer banks requests #jj outer banks #jj headcanons #jj x reader

[darnell-la]

Do you cream or squirt?

word count: 2.4k

pairing: sub!dom!steve harrington x nervous!reader x dom!eddie munson

note: please comment, like, repost and follow us for more. we’d also like if you guys could message us some ideas for our next book. we getting active!

WE DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANY COPIES OF THIS OR ANY OTHER OF OUR STORIES!

————————————————————————

3rd person pov

“Oh, I know you’re not talking about lasting long, Munson. Didn’t you just have a 10-second jerk-off session last week?” Y/n brought up a story he had told her and Steve a few days ago. 

“That doesn’t count! I was being edged,” Eddie said, remembering how hard that day was for him when they were all out at the mall. Thinking back on it only angers him. 

“By what? Magazines?” Y/n laughed with Steve as Eddie cliched his knuckles until they turned yellow. “Chill, it’s just a joke,” Steve said. “Jokes? Okay, well, how about you tell us about the day you creamed your pants when you know who showed up at the pool last year,” Eddie said. 

Y/n hasn’t heard of this story yet, and Steve planned to keep it that way. “Oh my god, because of who?” Y/n asked, really wanting to know who it was. She’s too nosy, and that nosiness is a lane she probably wouldn’t be able to process or handle. 

“Was it Nancy!?” She shouted, making Eddie laugh. “Oh, it sure wasn’t Nancy. It was someone way hotter than that,” Eddie locked eyes with Steve, trying to push Steve’s buttons since he constantly clowns Eddie with y/n. 

“It’s no one,” Steve said as he broke eye contact with Eddie and flopped back on Eddie’s beg, getting his head lightly against the headboards. Eddie and y/n laughed at Steve’s clumsiness. 

“Oh, cmon’ Steve! How bad did you cream your pants, that you don’t want to tell me? I’ve heard worse. Trust me,” y/n said. 

“How about you ask Eddie since he’s the 10-second man,” Steve said. “It’s not like he didn’t rub one off after,” Steve started getting personal, and y/n knew it. She loved this side of them. It was so fun. 

“Cmon’ bestie! Tell me about your 10-second mission. Don’t gotta be embarrassed,” y/n looked at Eddie as Steve chuckled in the background, knowing Eddie didn’t have the balls himself to tell her. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie replied. “Oh, now it doesn’t matter!? That’s hilarious!” Steve laughed as y/n rolled her eyes. “C'mon’! It’s not that serious,” y/n needed to know. She hates not knowing things. 

“Hey, since you like these dirty secrets, how about you tell us yours, huh?” Eddie began getting defensive. “Like what, Eddie?” Y/n asked because her sex life has always been boring, and they know this. 

“Tell us if you cream or squirt,” Eddie fought back. Steve’s jaw dropped at the demand. He would love to know to make his fantasies more realistic, but having it asked so randomly, shocked him. 

“What? Fuck no! That’s different,” Y/n said. “No, it’s not. We’re all besties here, right? I tell you when I get my cock suck, and you can’t even tell me if you cream?” Eddie said, shocking y/n to the core. 

“It’s not important,” the young lady said, not wanting to tell them about herself like that. “Oh, now you don’t want to share secrets? C'mon’, tell me. It’s all fun and games after all, right?” Eddie said, locking eye contact. 

“I- I can’t just- Guys, I can’t just say things like that,” she said. “Why not? It’s not like we’re gonna judge you, ain’t that right Stevie?” Eddie asked Steve. “Yeah, of course not,” Steve said as y/n tried making herself comfortable on Eddie’s bed. Now she’s nervous and they can both tell. 

“Besides, whatever you say will be hot either way,” Eddie said, definitely shocking y/n. Yes, they all flirt, but during a time like this? She’s never experienced it. Ever. 

“C'mon, princess, it’s not that hard. Squirter or creamer?” Eddie asked as he shifted himself closer to Y/n, pressuring her to tell them and to make her feel a type of way. Maybe he can pull off what he’s been thinking about for a while now. 

“I- I uh, I cream a little but I call myself a squirter. I uh, I usually squirt a lot though. A little too much,” y/n nervously said. Eddie clapped his hands as Steve’s jaw dropped again. He can’t believe she told them. 

“Well, look at that. It wasn’t so hard, right?” Eddie asked as y/n nodded her head hesitantly. “Now, why have you been hiding such a thing from us, hm?” Eddie asked as he laid a finger on y/n’s thigh. 

“B-Because I didn’t think it was uh, it was something serious,” she replied. “Well, now you know, and you know not to keep any more secrets from us, right?” Eddie asked. “Y-Yes,” Y/n said. 

“Yes, what?” Eddie asked, shocking y/n all the way now. “What?” She asked. “Yes, what, y/n? You know what I want to hear,” Eddie said as his fingers trailed to her inner thighs. Steve stayed in the back in silence, growing hard at how nervous y/n was. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Eddie. Like, what are we even doing right now?” Y/n said as she tried pulling Eddie’s hang away but he kept his position. 

“I think it’s pretty unfair how much you make us cum to only the thought of you when you could have been cumming on our cocks like you say you can,” Eddie said. 

“What!? Eddie, I- I don’t know what’s going on but-“ y/n tried saying. “I want you to show me how much that pussy comes,” Eddie began leaning over y/n. 

The girl leaned back, trying to avoid body touch until she realized she was leaning back into Steve. She went to get up, but Steve pulled her up close to him as Eddie got comfortable over her. 

“Don’t panic, sweetheart. We just wanna feel you, okay?” Steve whispered in the girl's ear. “Guys, wait! We can’t be- I can’t do this,” she said. “And why is that? Afraid you’re gonna soak my bed? It’s fine, doll face. I’ve wanted that for years,” Eddie said. 

The metal head made his movie and connected his lips to y/n’s. She instantly melted into the kiss as Steve snaked his hands around her and groped at her tits. 

“You like this, baby? Just say red if you don’t want this,” Steve said as he began touching the girl, eventually gathering himself to pull her shirt up and let her tits free, out of her bra. 

“S-Steve,” y/n moaned at the boy's pinch around her nipples. “I-I can’t guys. I just can’t,” the girl whined at this new feeling. No one has ever played with her tits like this. 

“Yes, you will,” Eddie pulled away from their kiss and began tugging at her skirt. “Wait- Wait, Eddie, you can’t- Wait, no, I don’t- Eddie,” y/n didn’t know what to say. 

“Ssh, doll face. Let me feel your cunt. You’ve been making me wait for so long,” Eddie slightly whined as he kept tugging at her clothes while he pulled his loose jeans and boxers down, just enough for his rock-hard cock to spring out. 

“Just look at him, y/n. He’s begging for it,” Eddie pouted, finally getting y/n’s skirt off. “Little panties? You were right earlier, Steve. They are pink,” Eddie looked up at Steve, already close to cumming, just by touching her nice-sized tits. 

“You know, you’re not so slick wearing all of this around us. Don’t tell me you're wearing this shit, not to be noticed by one of us and used. They’re just so — pretty,” Eddie traced a finger up along her clothed wet folds. 

“Never knew our bestie was a whore. You wanted us to stuff you, hm? Just tell me, princess. Tell me you’ve always wanted this,” Eddie began slowly pulling her panties to the side. 

“Fucking say it, or you’ll regret making me wait,” Eddie threatened as he ripped her panties clean off. “I’ve always wanted this!” Y/n cried out. Eddie saw a drop of bodily fluid leak from her cunt as she spoke. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you can’t breathe,” Eddie said before making his way in between the girl's legs. “Eddie,” y/n said low, still not knowing if this was right. 

“Let him use you, sweetheart. Don’t wanna make us mad, right?” Steve asked as he pinched down harder on her nipples, making her cry no. “No!” She whined as her back arched. Eddie hadn’t even slipped in yet. 

“Now, let’s see if you were telling the truth. Don’t hold back on me, Angel,” he said before pushing at her entrance. Eddie pushed forward until he was completely in the whiny girl. 

“Wait!” Y/n cried out at the sudden feeling of being filled. She’s never felt so full in her life. “E-Eddie,” y/n gripped the long-haired boy's shoulders as Steve shifted his hips. Fuck, he’s close. 

“Too much,” y/n got out as Eddie pulled back, but thrust back in, to stretch her out enough before he did what he wanted with her. “Get used to it, or you’ll just be crying on my cock,” Eddie said, inches from her face as he pulled back out, then slammed right back into her wet hole. 

“P-Please!” Y/n begged as she felt herself soak his cock, only making it easier for him to fuck her. “Eds!” Y/n moaned as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so full,” he cried as Eddie smirked and Steve groaned in her ear. 

“When I tell you, she’s a tight one, Harrington. I fucking mean it. She’s sucking me in like a fucking fleshlight,” Eddie groaned as the sound of his balls slapping against y/n’s ass, filled the room. 

“Agh,” y/n’s eyes rolled and her head fell back. “A-A lot, Eds, a lot!” Y/n cried as she felt herself clinching around Eddie like she’s never done before to a cock. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe how dick drunk she’s been for him all this time. 

He let that thought sit in his mind as he picked his paste up to fuck her harder. Why did she keep this from them? All the times they’ve gone to the bathroom in public to rub one off, knowing she would have been so easy to get on her knees and suck them dry. 

“You’re in for it, y/n,” Eddie growled in her ear as he connected a free hand of his to her neck, tightly. “Eds! Eds!” Y/n cried in pain and pleasure as her walls clenched around his veiny cock before she finally exploded. 

“Eddie!” She moaned loud as her cunt released everything Steve and Eddie needed. Y/n’s head stayed back and eyes stayed fucked out as Steve still played with her tits and Eddie pumped into her like he’s never fucked before. 

“P-Please,” y/n begged for mercy as one hand reached up at Steve’s hair and the other to Eddie’s. “Please fuck me,” she begged, feeling another orgasm around the corner. 

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned with a chuckle, as well as Steve as Eddie connected his last free hand to y/n’s waist. “You wanna take me now, baby? Wanna suck me fucking dry of my cum? What a fucking slut. I bet you made Steve cum already, hm?” Eddie asked as he looked behind y/n. 

Steve nodded his head fast with a whine, still grinding against y/n’s back like a starved sex slave. “Gonna fill this cunt up, baby. You have no fucking choice,” Eddie slightly moaned as his thrusts got sloppy. 

“Fucking hell, I — Baby, I- I’m cumming,” Eddie moaned in y/n ear, not noticing but tightening his grip on her neck and waist. She couldn’t complain though. Y/n loved the feeling of his grip on her neck. 

“Holly fuck!” Eddie whined as his hips bucked a few times. His cum leaked from the weak girl's hole as Steve dropped his head back onto the headboard. 

“Agh,” y/n moaned as she tightened around him again. This time he pulled out and let her squirt all over his lower body and bed. “Fuck, that’s a lot, baby,” Eddie groaned as he disconnected his hand from her waist and rubbed her folds, making sure everything comes out. 

“Mhm,” y/n shifted. She’s never been this overstimulated before, and they can tell. “You fucking like that?” Eddie leaned towards her face, hand still tight around her neck. “Should I fuck this pussy full again?” Eddie asked, but y/n couldn’t speak back. 

“I will,” Steve said. “Oh, shit,” Eddie chuckled as he got up. Steve moved from under y/n, showing how weak and limp she got. She still leaking her and Eddie’s cum. 

“You just lay there and look cute. I’ll do the work,” Steve moved y/n on the bed, the way he needed her as Eddie sat right next to her face. “Hey, I’m still hard. Put that pretty mouth to use,” Eddie looked down at y/n as she struggled to keep her eyes open. 

“Wait, wait. Baby, what color do you say when you need a break?” Eddie asked as Steve stroked himself in front of her entrance. “R-Red,” y/n slurred. “Should we go red?” Eddie asked, slightly worried. 

“No. I just wanna be fucked,” y/n said low as she looked up at Eddie. “Don’t worry, doll face. You will,” Eddie said right before Steve shoved his cock into her already wet and used cunt. 

As y/n moaned loudly, Eddie used that chance to push his tip into her mouth. “So fucking- oh my god,” Steve’s legs began to shake at the amazing feeling of his best friend's cunt so wet and tight around him. 

“That’s it, baby. Suck me up,” Eddie rubbed y/n cheek as he lazily thrust into her mouth. “You’re our personal whore, you understand? No more of these wacky links. You’re ours,” Eddie made rules. 

“And if you disobey anything we give you, princess, you’re fucking dead,” Steve said. “Understand?” Eddie asked, but y/n just looked up at him. She understands, but what will they do if she doesn’t comply. 

“One chance is all you get,” Steve said as he grabbed y/n’s legs and pushed them back, causing him to fuck into her cunt deeper at a new angle. “Fuuuck!” Y/n cried as the clapping and gagging noises in the room grew. 

“You’re so fucked,” Eddie chuckled as he leaned over a little bit to rub y/n’s sensitive bud. “Agh, no!” Y/n cried at the feeling of everything. Even Eddie’s cocky pushed further into her throat after he leaned over and Steve picked up his paste, causing her body to jolt back into Eddie’s cock. This is definitely all she wanted. 

#18+ #18+ content #18+ fic #18+ minors dni #18+ only #18+ post #smut #pure smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #dom!eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #sub!steve harrington #dom!steve harrington #choking #breeding k1nk #rough kink #rough daddy #roughfuck #rough k1nk

[vetteltea]

Hurray for the 500!

Some breakfast Tea, the letter S and i would like to hear what you think about Seb, Lando, Carlos, Alonso or Lewis?

☕︎ breakfast tea

LN4, SV5, FA14, LH44, CS55 and 'S: Stamina: How many rounds can they go? How long can they last?'

LN4: Lando is stupidly horny when he's around you, and I mean stupidly. He's not sure what you're doing to him - whether you have some kind of spell over him, but there's so many times he's got you alone and just wants to ravish you.

He's an energetic guy, I feel like he can go for two or three rounds, but he's self aware. He struggles to last around you when you're looking that good, so will always make sure you finish first.

SV5: Sebastian, oh my goodness. There's a spark still in him, it's still there from his Red Bull days. He may come across as the sweetest gentleman, but when it comes to you, he's gone back 10 years.

He can easily go a few rounds, he's such a tease that he'll end up teasing himself, too. I'm saying probably three is his average. There are some days he will keep you pinned to the bed all day and have you over and over again.

FA14: Fernando is older, his stamina isn't what it used to be, but it doesn't mean he only goes for a little while. Remember this man back in his younger days? He's completely and utterly insatiable.

The whole thing about him is it's one round, but it's a round which will leave you shaking and quivering and so, so overstimulated. He's constantly edging you, making you hold yourself there and then pulling you back down.

LH44: There has never been a more passionate lover than Lewis; everything about him is deep; he's whispering the filthiest words to you and keeping his mouth so close to yours at every single moment. His breath on your skin is enough to send you into override.

Lewis does two rounds; the first is always with you finishing in his mouth, there's something about your taste which does something to him. Even if he's riling you up in every other way, finishing in his mouth is what he desires. The second is always in missionary, his lips pressed to yours as you both climax together.

CS55: If there's ever a man who can make you feel things you could never realise, it's Carlos. He's horny all the time, on the days he can hide away from the world with you, he's got you on every surface, in every bed, taking you over and over again.

This man genuinely has no limit to his rounds, he will go as long as you will. Sometimes a round is a few minutes, other times his dick is buried inside you for so long whilst his lips attack your neck, it can go for hours.

part of the vetteltea 500 celebration!

#vetteltea 500 #LN4 #Lando Norris #SV5 #Sebastian Vettel #FA14 #Fernando Alonso #LH44 #Lewis Hamilton #CS55 #Carlos Sainz #Lando Norris x Reader #Sebastian Vettel x Reader #Fernando Alonso x Reader #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Lewis Hamilton x Reader

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 16

WC: 756 , Masterpost CW: We loop to the start and that entails The attacks start in northern Africa. It jumps from Algeria to Egypt, across the sea to Saudi Arabia to Turkey and into Europe. By the time it hits Metropolis, resources are already stretched thin. Danny is calling in every contact, every possible help, while he follows the worst of it himself, constantly organizing the next area of triage.

As he’s attempting to wrap the tourniquet around Barry’s leg, blood slicked hands failing him, it hits Danny like one of Superman’s punches.

They are going to lose.

Barry reaches out and grips a weak hand around Danny’s wrist. “Kid?”

It’s still a stupid nickname, but through all these years Barry still used it. Through the years of dinners and disasters and Danny being welcomed into Barry’s family at Wally’s side.

And now all these wonderful, heroic, brave people that Danny had come to be friends with are going to die. The monologue happening in the middle of the street made that much clear. No hero would be spared; any chance of a future uprising would be snuffed out this very day.

Because they are going to lose.

Danny smiles softly at Barry and pries his hand away.

“Kid, whatever you’re thinking—” Barry could have no idea what Danny is thinking. No one can.

No one can, because no one knows what Danny can do.

He leaves his bag by Barry. Most of the supplies have been used up, but maybe there is still something in it that will help people.

He just wants to help people.

The monologue cuts off as Danny approaches, feet sliding on the loose concrete around the edge of the crater that the imposing figure stands in. He manages not to fall, though, and strides past Superman with his head held high. He will not cower in front of death. He faced death once before and even though this time means becoming nothing, he will not cower as he faces it again.

He has to look up to meet the being’s eyes. There’s only cruelty there. The mouth twists in a cold smirk. “Has it come to this? That they send their healer to face me?”

“No.” Danny could hear Barry shouting his name. “They didn’t send me, I came by myself.”

The laugh raises the hair on the back of Danny’s neck, but he doesn't move away.

“Pathetic! You presume yourself to be the last line of defense? You, a mere medic? You are no hero and yet you dare to stand before me? Do you not think that I could break you with a single fist?”

Danny smiles softly, and raises his hand. The man doesn’t even move, so utterly sure that Danny poses him no threat. Danny rests his hand on the man’s chest. He has to reach up to do so.

The smirk turns into a sneer. “Or do you intend to appeal to some ideal of compassion? To try and change my heart? To ask me to spare your heroes?”

Superman is screaming at him now as he struggles to stand. Danny hears him fall again.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the man who would try to rule them all with nothing but death in his wake.

“No,” Danny says, tilting his head just slightly. His eyes scan over the hardened face again. “No, I don’t think I can do that. You’ve made a mockery of death for so long that your heart is hardened. It’s a good thing I don’t need it soft.”

Intangibility is as comfortingly familiar as it is horrifying to feel again. Danny shudders as it washes over him. His hand sinks, sickeningly, through armor and skin and bone to wrap around that hardened, beating heart.

It thuds once in his grip.

Danny yanks his hand back.

Danny pulls that heart from its chest.

The man gasps— the sound a pale imitation of a breath— and then he falls.

Like he was nothing.

Less than nothing.

A man that will only be remembered with hatred.

The massive heart slips from Danny’s limp fingers. It hits the ground with a wet squelch.

Danny wavers, eyes turning up to the sky where hundreds of clones are falling like horrifying intimidations of shooting stars. A soft smile spreads over his face.

He had done it.

Will people remember him?

It isn’t why he did it.

He just wants to help people.

Wanted to.

Was someone calling his name?

There had only been one chance. It was all he needed.

They would be safe now.

Everyone would be safe.

Humanity, Barry, Iris, the Titans…

Wally…

“Danny!”

---

AN: And here we are, back in present tense (thank you @mokulule for correcting all my slips back to past tense my migrained brain didn't catch.

I would say Danny used his one moment well, wouldn't you?

But this isn't quite the end. Now that we're back in the present... I think it's about time we saw somethings from Wally's POV, don't you?

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

#dp x dc #abson #quick death #quick death ship #danny/wally

[hotpinkstars]

i need some wriothesley pregnancy drabbles there's seriously not enough of those yet...

-> pregnancy

synopsis -> a rundown of your pregnancy with wriothesleys baby, and how supportive he is.

warnings -> pregnancy, mentions of crying and screaming, mentions of labor

w/c -> 968

wriothesley didn’t really remember the day you constantly started asking for hugs and cuddles. and the day he realized that cuddling you in the ways easiest to him are no longer an option. and, the day he knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself without his help. 

yes, you’re pregnant, but sometimes he wonders if you even understand that he’s the one working here! and because he’s working, he can’t give you what you want 24/7. you do understand that though, but you just can’t help it! your hormones have changed so much over the past few months that now you feel like a needy wreck who constantly needs her husband to be touching her in some way. 

and on the other end, you feel like wriothesley doesn’t understand why you’re so needy. obviously, you can tell him why, but he won’t be able to relate. he’s a man, he can’t carry a child. and sometimes, you get mad at him for that, and so on.

but on the frequent occasions that he puts his work down for even just a few minutes to focus his attention onto you, you’re content. and he’s happy if you are. 

whether it’s a long hug, snuggling into his side and resting your eyes on the couch, or cuddling him in bed, he’ll be up for it if he’s not necessarily doing anything. he doesn’t mind putting his work down for you, but it’s not possible to leave rather important matters alone just so he can satisfy his pregnant wife. 

he knows you’re no longer able to get good sleep at night- he’s up with you through the majority of it. so, he just tries to cuddle you to at least make you feel a little better, considering he knows how much you want to just lay down, forget about the world around you, and breathe in his refreshing scent. it’s one of the only smells you can stand at this point. 

and, he mostly welcomes you when you come over to his side of the desk, and try your hardest to sit yourself on the edge of it. to say you normally get whatever you want whenever you want it is an understatement. 

when it was earlier on in your pregnancy, your clinginess seemed a lot easier to manage, he thinks. he’d just sit you down on his lap and rub your back. but later on, he can’t do that, making your neediness a little more challenging to relieve. he knows he’s going to have to take that work leave soon. 

but, don’t fret, he’s fantastic at massages. whether it’s in the bathtub, before bed, or even in the middle of the night, where you wake him up with a pool of tears in your eyes. his back and neck massages are great, but his calf and foot massages are to die for.

once, you woke him up at around 2 in the morning. at that point, you could be considered heavily pregnant, nearing that 40 week mark, and in obvious discomfort on the daily. you woke up with a charley horse, and had no way of ridding the pain by yourself. 

he’s used to you waking him up like this, so without opening his eyes, he rolled over and started massaging the soreness out of your leg. it felt absolutely heavenly, and lulled you into a shallow sleep. for now, at least, until you need to get up and use the restroom for the 80th time that night. 

poor guy will be so nervous when he comes home from work and finds you bent over the counter, breathing in and out while swaying your hips back and forth. he knew it was labor, he knew he’d have to bring you to sigewinne so she can either send you up to the overworld or deliver your baby herself, and he knew that you two were going to be parents in the next few days.

he prays your labor is the most peaceful it can be, but he soon found that there is no such thing as an epidural in the medicinal part of the fortress. it was the closest place he could take you, and relatively one of the nicest. the whole medical wing besides the simple cots sigewinne has in her room was likely the nicest part of the fortress (besides your living quarters), with a nice, clean look and the pearly white floors and walls, and could be compared to a regular hospital. 

and get this, the maternity wing was the nicest wing of the whole entire building. most people didn’t know about this secret hospital in the deepest parts of the fortress, where its mainly used for prisoners who came in pregnant and their sentence will end after their due date and surgical procedures by nurses hired on by sigewinne with the approval of wriothesley.

you were so glad that you two were immediately given the nicest room and the best nurses, who helped you as best as possible while you went through unmedicated labor. it was a grueling process, tears leaving even wriothesleys eyes every single time you screeched in pain while a particularly bad contraction hit your body like a semi truck. and considering how long it went on, your husband thought he’d pass out.

after a horrifying 34 hour labor, you were with your baby at last. at this point your legs were numb and you felt exhausted, taking a nice nap while your wriothesley held your newborn.

that day was one of the only times you’ve seen him cry in your whole life, and you wonder if he’s ready for your upcoming pregnancy announcement, nearly 3 years after the last one.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #cw pregnancy

[cypherthesuccubus]

Let daddy take the reigns~

Luci x Reader -Part 1- (NSFW) (MDNI)!!!!!!

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, praise kink, body worship, cock worship, pussy worship, gentle dom luci, edging, tail play, she/ her pronouns, vaginal sex, creampie

Other tags: Fluff, angst

Luci is the aftercare king~ ✨

Part 1 of Luci x Reader is here!! Let’s see what adventures await you this time~ 😍✨(sorry for the wait again. Got busy around the house and kids lol 😂)

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

As I walk through the halls of Morningstar manor; my mind couldn’t help but wonder. Looking up at the paintings, strewn across the halls; each one depicting the seemingly happy family of Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been close friends with Lilith ever since the first time I’ve went to one of their annual gala’s. A friend of mine convinced me to go since there was gonna be free food and drinks; which was the main reason I went. I’ve never been one for social events; they’re always so uncomfortable when you don’t know anyone there. In the end, it turned out better than it did when Queen Lilith at the time; decided to chat up a conversation with me over the punch bowl. It was an instant click of how well her and me got along; we even went on shopping trips together; just having fun like a couple of teenage BFF’s. In turn, also meant that I got to know Lucifer and Charlie better too over time. Charlie is like the perfect mixture of her parents in both looks and personality; very sweet girl to be blessed with as a daughter. Lucifer was definitely silly and fun; always had so many creative ideas with incredible powers to boot. On my end, they always seemed like a picture perfect happy family, but I guess that was a fantasy. During later years, everytime I had a girl’s day with her and Lucifer came up in the conversation; she became more dismissive of him as a subject of topic. I always told her if anything is going on, don’t hesitate to let me know. But, I guess she never really wanted to talk about him as much as she used to. Then one day, her messages and calls never came through when I tried to contact her. As if she went completely silent; not wanting anything to do with me anymore.

Coming to find out, when I went to visit the manor that day to see what was up; there was Lucifer just sitting in his study in a fetal position on the floor. He was having a serious mental breakdown on account of Lilith wanting to separate, and left as soon as the papers were signed. No one knew where she went; just dissipated without as much as a text to let us know she’s still alive. I guess our friendship didn’t mean that much to her either, but Lucifer was definitely suffering more than I was. For the longest time after she left, he would completely lock himself away from everyone; barely eat or sleep due to his constant cry’s of pain and agony every single night. He really loved her so much that he would do anything for her, only to realize it was all a dream and she never wanted to spend the rest of eternity with him after all. For months no one heard from him, not even Charlie the poor girl. Many of the servants tried to get him to do at least something to let them know he’s still alive, but honestly it was mostly to see if they had a job or not. I started making my attempts to persuade him out of the room or at least have a conversation. I would visit 3 times a day for 4 hours; sitting on the floor while leaning against one of the double doors. I would tell him about my day and how things were going in my life, like you do when you hang out with friends. I mostly wanted him to know even thou things didn’t work out with Lilith; doesn’t mean you’re alone. I constantly reassured him that he’ll always have a friend in me when he’s ready to talk. This went on for an entire year without as much as a noise from him.

I soon arrive at the double doors once again; sitting down in the same spot. While sitting against the door once more; talking about how my night went before coming to the manor. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up. It’s been an entire year and still nothing! God! I know Lilith was my best friend, but why did she pull something like this?! She has left him in pieces with absolutely no way to put him back together. Before I decided to call a quits for the very last time; I decided to put my all in my final attempt to get him to talk to me. “Luci….I know getting over Lilith is gonna be absolute hell….literally….but you do have Charlie that needs you. She needs her dad more than anything now. She’s been on the news; talking about her dreams towards redemption for sinners. Obviously it didn’t go well and everyone pretty much laughed at her face. She’s pretty much been made a joke to every denizen of hell who watched the news. She must be so hurt right now…..she really needs someone to help support her dreams more than ever now….so please…please come out of there….do it for Charlie….she needs you.”

I waited for what seemed like an eternity; still no response. If that wouldn’t work, nothing will at this point. With a heavy heart, I picked myself off the floor and proceeded down the hallway. As I was at least 4 feet from his door, I picked up a slow clicking sound; coming from behind me. I turned around so fast to see it was his door slowly opening. I walked back to the door; stopping just a foot away to see Luci finally standing in front of the now opened door after so long. He looked a mess; his hair was pointing in many different directions with his clothes was a very loose fitting white shirt; paired with grey sweatpants. It was hanging off his small waist showing the hem of his black boxer breifs. He definitely hasn’t slept very well due to the dark circles under his eyes. I felt so bad for him that this got him in such a state like this. But he finally made the decision to show himself, so I’m gonna help him the best I can to get him back on track.

(Luci’s P.O.V)

She was right! No matter how things are right now, my daughter still needs me! This entire year has been absolutely horrific for me. I still can’t believe that Lilith would do this to me. After everything we’ve been through; obviously meant nothing to her now. I would do anything for her, but I guess it wasn’t mutual. It still baffled me how Lilith’s best friend, (Y/N), would make it her personal mission to help me all this time. I guess in a way, she was hurt by Lilith as well since that was her best friend. Still she came to my door 3 times a day every day for an entire year. I couldn’t ask for a better friend than (Y/N); I’m definitely going to do better for me and my daughter!! “Thank you, (Y/N)….I appreciate you opening my eyes to what’s important.” She smiled as she offered to help me to get cleaned up, along with other self care stuff. She went through my drawers to pull out clean pair of my red and white silk pjs along with clean black boxers. She brings me to the bathroom; sitting me down as she starts the shower while setting up all the essentials. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be out cleaning up the room and putting fresh sheets on your bed.” I smile at her “No problem.” she then takes her leave, shutting the door.

Finally stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist as I walk out the bathroom; drying my hair with a second towel. I look around to see my room being spotless for the first time and my bed neatly made. She really didn’t have to do this, but I greatly appreciated it nonetheless. I head to my bed; picking up the clean clothes as I put them on one by one. Finally brushing my hair, the door of my bedroom open with (Y/N) walking in with a tray with a 2 big plates full of pancakes. “How did you know pancakes was one of my favorite comfort foods?” She giggled as she places the tray on the night stand “I’ve noticed that when the servants brought you food; you always took the pancakes over anything else.” I smiled genuinely, grabbing a plate as I proceed to sit in the middle of my bed. (Y/N) grabs her plate as she joins me “Did you want to watch a movie while we eat?” I nodded; taking a bite of the pancakes “Sounds good to me! What should we watch?” She takes a minute to think about her answer; perking up as she got the perfect idea “OOOH! There’s this new comedy movie that just came out actually. We can watch that.” I chuckled; taking another bite “Sounds great!”

The movie was really funny surprisingly. I’ve never been one to watch too much TV since it really scrambles the brain, but I honestly need the distraction. But I didn’t expect the sudden romance between the main guy and his sister’s best friend. I thought she said this was a comedy, maybe she missed that somewhere when looking at the trailer maybe? “Isn’t this a comedy?” She looks at the movie confused, then pulls her phone up to look at the genre of the film. “Oooooh it’s a romantic comedy. I’m so sorry we can change it if you want.” I chuckle as I start waving my hands back and forth “No no no no no! It’s fine! I was just wondering is all.” She puts her phone away; bringing her plate back in her lap “Well ok then! As long as you’re comfortable.” She smiles at me as she pats my shoulder. We turn our attention back to the movie; shoveling another fork full of pancakes into our mouths.

Everything was going good until a certain scene started to unveil. Of course it was implied, but still felt very realistic. The main guy was getting very….intimate with the best friend. Touching and caressing her as they kissed passionately; slowly undressing each other. I clear my throat as I hook my finger into the collar of the silk pjs; pulling out to let some air down my shirt.

I guess she really didn’t know this was going to be in the movie. I glance over at her to see how she was holding up with this. Her cheeks were flushed as she stared wide eyed at the scene. She swallowed hard as I noticed a tiny shift with her crossed legs; trying to inch closer together. I had to look away for she almost caught me staring at her. I feel my cheeks start to heat up from embarrassment. I literally have only been divorced for only a year and here I am; getting flustered over a “intimate” scene while sitting next to (Y/N) being flustered as well. Maybe she should have changed the movie? This should feel wrong to be like this next to your ex wife’s best friend…….but it strangely felt……so right at the same time. What am I thinking?! I’ve been with Lilith for so long and now a year later of not being with her; something like this is making me all hot and bothered so easily?! Maybe I am a little touch deprived due to everything, and rightfully so. But should I feel like this when around (Y/N)? Wouldn’t it be considered betrayal? Well, not really if Lilith left me to begin with. Maybe it’s not so wrong. I mean….I kinda did find (Y/N)…..rather attractive. Maybe….even more than a little~ Maybe…..it wouldn’t hurt to……indulge~

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #18+ content #18+ only #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer smut #hazbin smut #18+ account #18+ post #18+ blog

[littlejuicebox]

Heya!

I’ve been lurking for a while and had this idea rattling around in my brain - how do you think Astarion would be around a sweet & unassuming Tav but he can tell they’re FILTHY in bed, maybe flirting via tadpole?

Love your writing, hope you’re doing well

- 🌹

Tattoo

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for quite a while, unsure if anon will still see it! This mostly answers the prompt, I think. Perhaps a small detour lol.

Summary: Astarion thought you were an innocent, blushing virgin that night in the clearing. He misjudged you. And now you’re all he can think about.

Tags: smut, 18+, masturbation, tadpole fliritng, mentions of oral

Word Count: 1K

-----

It wasn’t until that night in the moonlit clearing when Astarion realized you had a tattoo. But of course, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see your enticing bit of body art any other way.

His original intent had been to use his skills that evening in an effort to repay you for the regular feedings. His unique way of rebalancing the scales, as it were. But now that little tattoo, just below the curve of your hip, in the dip where your thigh meets your — surprisingly delicious — mound is all he can think about.

Astarion’s delved his hand in his pants more than once this week thinking about that vision alone. He hasn’t felt the urge to touch himself in decades, but the memory of that dainty bit of ink constantly taunts him throughout the day, stirring a desire he hadn’t known in ages.

He knows it’s ridiculous – it’s just a bit of ink, for god's sake – and yet, tonight he felt compelled to seek relief by wrapping his own pale hand around his cock and rubbing himself ragged once again. And now he’s sprawled in his tent, the remains of his spend still splattered over his abdomen, and his mind is starting to wander back to that night.

He’d seen tattoos on others, of course. In almost any place imaginable. Most of them were horribly done.

But you? Well, you’d certainly caught him by surprise.

You’d seemed the picture of innocence, made up almost entirely of wide, doe eyes and gullibility. Before his proposition, he’d been almost positive you were a blushing virgin. An easy target.

But to have a tattoo in such a salacious location? And then to have your hot, sinful mouth wrapped around his cock, worshiping it with your tongue, as if you’d never tasted anything better? All with those big doe eyes watching his every move and clearly delighted by his own pleasure?

He hasn’t had an experience quite like that for as long as he can remember.

And, well, looks could certainly be deceiving, couldn’t they?

The taste of your blood as he sunk his sharp fangs into your soft flesh while you’d found release had been intoxicating. Part of him wants to experience it again; the other part knows – and desires to avoid – what he will have to do to achieve that particular flavor.

At this point, Astarion isn’t quite sure if he wants to proposition you again or not. Sure, the first time was satisfactory. Perhaps even a bit enjoyable. But still—

Suddenly, the rogue feels a tugging on the edge of his mind, ripping him from his musings. He recognizes this sensation, it’s a tadpole mind link. But something about this is… different. It isn’t accidental, it’s intentional. Someone in camp is reaching out to him.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Good thing he’s immortal.

Against his better judgment, Astarion opens his mind to the call. And there you are, waiting for him.

"I'm surprised you’re still awake,’ You say, and the silver-haired elf is shocked to hear your voice as if you’re right next to him. Interesting.

‘How did you realize we could do this?’ Astarion asks, and he hears your entertained laughter tinkle in the background of his psyche in response.

‘Shadowheart and I figured it out sometime last week. We’ve only used it to talk shit about everyone thus far.’ You reply, clearly proud of your discovery and thrilled by your own behavior.

‘Everyone?’ The rogue asks, not pleased about being the topic of you and your apparent best friend’s judgment.

‘Almost everyone,’ You amend, and there’s a brief flicker of affection in your psyche towards Astarion that you’re certain he notices before you quickly stomp it down.

You feel a ripple of Astarion’s own satisfaction at your amendment. He’s glad to not be the topic of your more unkind thoughts.

‘What are you still doing awake, darling?’ The vampire questions, ‘You are normally the first one snoring.’

There is the smallest wave of offense, and then a resigned acknowledgement at the truth in his statement. A pause of the mental conversation ensues as you seem to carefully weigh your next thoughts and move around in your tent.

‘I can’t sleep. Too much excitement today, I think. Too much pent up energy,’ You start, and then flash a vision through your own eyes, showing Astarion as you look down at your own barren mound, ‘Care to come and help me… release some of the tension?’

Astarion can see the tattoo through your eyes, greeting him in a sensual hello as you drag your fingers down it, on the way to touch yourself. Gods damn it.

He wants to take you up on your offer, but then he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know what he wants. So instead he dances around the topic, avoiding an answer, with a flirtatious admission of his own.

‘I’m afraid I have taken care of my own needs for the night,’ He replies, flashing you the quickest view of milky white liquid now beginning to dry upon his stomach.

A ripple of disappointment on your end. And then another pause.

‘Well… even though I wasn’t extended the same kind offer, you’re welcome to watch me as I take care of my own needs for the night.’ You offer, now teasing between your folds more insistently. You send the rogue another vision of your needy sex and two fingers now shining with arousal, ‘Via tadpole… or in person.’

Astarion has never thrown his shirt on and walked across the camp faster. In his haste, he broke the tadpole connection. But you hear him coming and barely peel back the flap of your tent, displaying the briefest sliver of your naked form.

The vampire pauses for a moment on the outside of your tent, debating if this is the right move. You’re still touching yourself, he can hear the slickness of your sex from here.

“Hurry up, Astarion,” You whisper, somewhat impatiently, as the urge to find release builds within you.

Fuck it, he thinks. He wants to run his tongue along that tattoo again, even if that’s all he does.

He quickly delves into the tent and ties it closed behind him without another thought.

Eventually, he does drag his masterful tongue along that tattoo, and around many other parts of your tempting body, after he decides to help you find a second release.

Simply watching the first one had been enough to make you almost irresistible. He wanted to sink his fangs into you again. Perhaps in your thigh this time, if you’d allow it.

Like a tattoo, his nights tasting you left him permanently altered.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion reader smut #astarion reader insert #astarionxreader smut #astarionxyou smut #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate 3 smut #smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!reader

[netherfeildren]

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him. 

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it. 

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself. 

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

 You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine. 

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good. 

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you. 

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other. 

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway. 

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him. 

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention. 

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here. 

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be. 

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it. 

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him. 

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it. 

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu. 

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please. 

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge? 

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely. 

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point. 

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.” 

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you. 

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one. 

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore. 

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore. 

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there. 

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence. 

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up. 

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long. 

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of. 

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return. 

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger. 

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side. 

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing. 

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt. 

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough. 

-

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom. 

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.” 

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about. 

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that. 

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm. 

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him. 

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this. 

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him. 

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others. 

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here. 

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth. 

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart. 

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him. 

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can. 

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had. 

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary. 

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins. 

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him. 

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice. 

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him. 

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence. 

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.  

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time. 

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain. 

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart. 

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing. 

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless. 

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

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-Finnick Odair x Victor!reader

{Finnick strives to make you laugh for the first time since you’ve won your games}

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Words were a hard thing to get out of you recently, you were so closed off… skittish, almost as if you were afraid of your own voice. Finnick couldn’t blame you in fact there’s not a bone in his body that could ever be mad at your recent behaviour, he understood better than most people.

He watches you with a soft expression as you sit at the kitchen table, losing yourself in a new puzzle. He admires the calm look in your eyes and the way you shift the pieces into the correct places with gentle hands whilst he prepares dinner, his eyes flicking over to you every now and then to keep a close eye on you.

The faint sound of rain pattering against the windows only seems to add to the tranquillity of the evening. Then the silence breaks, and your voice softly reaches his ears, “I’m stumped.” It shocks him a little, it’s evident in the way his eyes widened slightly.

“Stumped?… lemme take a look, honey.” He replies back to you, keeping his voice hushed as he walks over to you resting his palms against the wooden table to lean over you. His gaze flickering over the puzzle, studying the pieces with narrowed, concentrated eyes.

It takes only a second for him to pick the piece you’re looking for, gently snapping it into place with a smirk on his lips. “Oh… thank you.” You whisper softly, looking up at him with a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.

There’s a certain patience in Finnick, never condescending in the way he speaks or looks at you. If anything he’s the glue that holds you together, constantly there to anchor you back to reality whenever your mind drifts further than you can reach.

The memories were the worst part, you seemed to have a difficult time remembering what was real and what was fake… which caused you to forget a lot. Those special moments you shared with Finnick before the games are now tainted with a stain you couldn’t clear off.

Although there are moments where it flickers back slightly like embers of a fire that leaves a tingling warmth across your skin. The smallest things set it off, music for example. Soft notes of a familiar tune echo through the kitchen, there’s a sense of safety within the lyrics.

Finnick knows you remember the song and the moment you shared with him. It’s in the way your eyes glisten with fondness and that ever-so-small smile that begins to crack at the corner of your lips.

The pair of you glance at each other simultaneously as the gentle notes ricochet through the room. Finnick smirks over at you, extending his hand to you with a soft nod of his head. He waits for you to take him up on the opportunity, never forcing your hand.

He watches patiently as the hesitation flickers through your expression and relief washes over his expression as you stand up from the chair, your hand slipping into his slightly rough one.

“Do you remember this song?” He asks with a teasing edge to his tone although his expression soon melts with tenderness as you nod your head shyly and he takes this moment to place his hand against your hip.

Finnick brings you into him before gently swaying you both side from side. “I could never forget.” You whisper back to him and your words only fuel him to hold you closer.

Your shoulders relax and a sigh escapes your lips as you rest your head against Finnicks chest, the scent of sea salt and firewood sits against his skin and lingers within his clothes. It’s homely… warm within his arms, nothing can hurt you and those painful memories of the games take a backseat in your muddled-up mind.

The pair of you continue to sway gently, taking it one note at a time as you let the music carry you both. You feel Finnick’s chest vibrate slightly as he lets out a soft chuckle and before you can even ask why you’re suddenly being spun around, your breath catches in your throat as he pulls you back into him.

His hands fall to your hips and then he hears it, the sweet giggle that you let out and he freezes in place. It’s a sound that sends a familiar warmth blooming within his chest. “I love you.” He whispers, his hands caressing your hips and then up to your waist.

Your smile widens slightly at his words and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him to you closely as he starts to press kisses all over your face. “I love you too.” You giggle in between the ticklish kisses.

The sight makes his heart swell with devotion. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you like this, so at peace and so happy, he makes a silent promise to keep it this way for as long as he possibly can.

#finnick odair #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair blurb #finnick odair drabble #finnick x reader #finnick fanfic #finnick oneshot #finnick fluff #finnick x you #finnick drabble #finnick blurb #finnick imagine #finnick x y/n #hunger games catching fire #hunger games finnick #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games fic #the hunger games fluff #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games fic #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games finnick

[thetriumphantpanda]

i'll be needing stitches | din djarin

Summary | The Mandalorian has never had someone else tend to his wounds.

Pairing | Din Djarin x F!Reader 

Word Count | 2.1k

Warnings | Future chapters will include smut, but this one involves mentions of injuries, a dead bounty, explicit descriptions of an untrained professional stitching someone up, blood, some explicit thoughts and some yearning.

Authors Note | My favourite tin can man is back and ready for business. I am having such a wonderful time imagining all the things Din has never experienced before and the idea that he has only ever been the one to patch himself up was more than I could cope with. As always, comments, reblogs and freaking out in my ask box are all welcome and if you enjoyed this, please consider supporting me with a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists - please follow @thetriumpantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to know when I upload fics. 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’d been gone a few days. That was nothing new. Off hunting his next bounty, leaving you in charge of child. You didn’t mind it, once you’d gotten used to the fact that you couldn’t really reason with him, and that you’d be tired from constantly keeping an eye on him, he was actually pretty decent company. 

You’re fussing with him, trying to get him to go down for some rest when the Crest doors open and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor. That’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you don’t rush to see what’s happening. What is out of the ordinary is the sound of metal crashing to the floor right after it. 

You whip around, looking at the scene before you. There’s a dead bounty on the ground, being kept company by Mando, who is crumpled on the floor in his armour, a pool of blood seeping out from underneath his left leg as he struggles to push himself up. 

“Bloody hell,” you exclaim, immediately dropping all worry of the child to drop to your knees next to him, “What the hell happened?!” 

He doesn’t respond, just grips at the injured leg, trying to get the bleeding to subside. His trousers are torn and there’s a nasty gash to the skin of his thigh that is about to cause a whole world of problems if you can’t fix it. 

With your hand on his shoulder, placed there to let him know you’re near, you whip your head around trying to remember where he keeps the healing equipment. He’s needed it before, but only for minor injuries, and has never needed your help before, but with the way the blood is spreading across the floor, he’s going to need you now. 

He feebly lifts a hand, pointing in the direction of his bunk, “Left it…. There.” He struggles to spit out. 

“Okay, I’ll fetch it,” your voice is laced with panic, like if you leave him now, he’s going to pass out, or worse, “You’ve gotta promise me you’ll stay with me, okay?” There’s no response, “Mando? You hear me? No sleeping!” 

He mumbles something unintelligible under his helmet but at least he’s talking. You let your hand drop, guiding him down to lie on the floor whilst you rush to his bunk, pulling at the haphazard sheets until the first aid box appears at the foot of the bed. You’re back on your knees next to him in no time, and he’s still moving about and groaning as you put your hand on his thigh to get a better look at his wound. 

Your fingers tear at the edges of the material, wanting to allow him to keep his modesty but see the extent of the damage. The gash is angry, blood seeping from it with red edges. You tip the top of the box open and root through it. There’s a single bottle of bacta spray, which you pull out, give a little shake and go to take the top off, when his wide palm circles around your wrist to stop you. 

“No.” 

You let a frustrated growl leave your throat, “Then what, Mando?!” You exclaim, “You’re bleeding out, what am I meant to do?!”

“The thread,” He chokes out, “Just stitch it up.” 

You look him straight in the visor, hoping your disapproving look is landing through his beskar. You are not a nurse, if you try and stitch him up you’re only going to make it worse. 

“I’m going to make it worse like that,” You insist, “I’ve never stitched anything in my life.” 

“Y-yes you have,” he squeezes your wrist, to reassure you, “Y-your tunic.” 

“Mando, this is your fucking leg we’re talking about, not my clothes, it’s completely different.” 

He pulls on your arm now, dragging your attention to him, craning his helmet as much as he can to look at you, “Do not waste that spray.” He demands, and even when he’s bleeding out on the floor, he commands you, knows that no matter what, he calls the shots - he lets your arm go, pushing you away gently but towards his leg. 

You could argue with him that saving him from certain death is not wasting it, but the longer you bicker, the less time you have, so with shaking hands, you put the bacta spray back, and instead find the needle and surgical thread. With shaking hands, you do your best to thread the needle and tie it off at one end, before your hands are grasping at his thigh. 

“This is going to suck,” You mutter, because it is, it would suck at the hands of a trained professional, so it’s definitely going to suck at the hands of someone who could barely sew their own clothes together, “I’m sorry.” 

You don’t give him enough time to respond, or yourself much time to consider what you’re actually doing, you just push the needle through the skin closest to you and over to the other side, trying not to look up or focus too hard on the sounds he’s making as you drag the needle back and forward through his skin, watching as the skin closes together the further along the wound you pull. Your hands are shaking, and you’re holding your breath, but you don’t seem to be making it worse, which is something you’ll take. 

You’re trying your best to concentrate on making the line of stitches as neat and tidy as you can, but all you can really focus on are the sounds that are coming from underneath that helmet of his. Low groans and grunts of pain as you work the needle through his skin, groans and grunts that you can’t help thinking about in another context, like if you weren’t currently trying to stitch him up and instead he had you pinned down and was- okay, no absolutely not. 

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the now incredibly distracting train of thought. Sure, there have been moments when you’d thought about it, though about what kind of lover he would be, mainly only out of curiosity than your own desires. But ever since he took that damn helmet off in the rain and touched your face, you can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he’d be for you.

Whilst he’s led there on the floor, all his trust put in you to patch him up and make him better, make sure he lives, and all you can is wonder what those sounds would be like for you. What the press of his thighs would do to your own when he put himself between your body, or what this specific thigh, gripped in your hand, clenched as you push the needle through once more, would feel like between your legs. Would he guide you through it, with those big hands on your hips, or would he lean back and let you take what you needed? Would he snake that hand down the front of your trousers and help you along, or would he let you do it all yourself? 

He’s agitated, and understandably so, it’s been a slow patch up, with you making sure that the scar your sutures will leave is as neat as it possibly can be. As you bend your head to look closely as you tie another knot in the end of the stitches, you realise he will have this for the rest of his life. A permanent mark on his skin, made by someone else sure, but patched up by you. The Mandalorian will always have this reminder of you etched into his skin, even if, for some reason, you cease to exist in his life. It’s primal, the way is makes you feel, that one day, if you’re gone, he’ll have to explain your existence to someone when they ask how he got that scar. You will forever be a piece of him. 

He’s gone suspiciously quiet, the pain you were causing him by driving a needle through his damn skin has made way to a dull throb. You reach into the first aid box, pulling out some gauze and tissue. You use the tissue and what little disinfectant there is to clean the sutures and the blood from his skin,  before haphazardly taping the gauze over it to try and keep it clean and free from infection. 

He pushes himself up on his elbows once you’re done, watching as you clean away your mess. He wants to reach out to you, he wants to touch you, to anchor himself to you and never let go, to thank you, but instead he simply tries to push himself up whilst trying to keep the stitches you just put in him intact. He lets out a pained groan, you whip your head around.

“Maker, help me,” You grumble, dropping the things you were attempting to clean up to rush back to his side, “I just sewed you up and you’re trying to move on your own?” You’re trying to speak in a tone that is authoritative but it doesn’t seem to come out that way, “Can’t you just sit still for a minute?” 

“Need to get us out of here,” He mumbles, taking hold of your hand that you’ve offered him, using your body to steady himself as he pulls himself up off the floor, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” You ask, letting him lean on you slightly for support as he hobbled toward the ladder to the cockpit, despite him weighing considerably more than you. 

He doesn’t actually respond to your question, once he’s at the cockpit ladder, he seems to not need your help anymore – struggling up the steps, grunting with each movement of his injured leg, so you let him go, turning around to finish cleaning up. As you’re cleaning the blood from the floor, you’re face-to-face with the body of the bounty he’d dropped on the floor. You’d seen him deal with these bounties more than once – normally when they’re talking back and fighting – so this will prove easier than anticipated. The bounty is slight, so dragging it into the carbonite chamber is easy enough. You flip some switches and press a few buttons and in no time the bounty is stuck there, waiting to be handed off whenever Mando gets you back to Nevarro. 

It’s not until much later that he reappears. You’ve fed the child, fed yourself, left a ration pack for him, and you’re just killing time, waiting for the child to wear himself out so you can finally let the exhaustion take over your body and sleep. Mando leans himself against the wall, watching you as you fuss over the child. 

“Thank you,” His modulated voice hits your ears, “I’ve never had someone to help me like that.” 

You look at him – this one doesn’t surprise you, the lone warrior who hasn’t allowed anyone but you to travel with him, of course he’s only ever had himself to stitch up his wounds. 

“Well, I don’t know how to drive this damn thing,” You speak, knocking your knuckles against the wall next to you, “So it was pretty important for you not to die,” you wait for him to laugh but he doesn’t, “You’re welcome,” you speak quietly then, “Sorry it was a horrible sewing job.” 

He walks towards you now, visible limp but better than you imagine anyone else with a similar injury would walk, sitting down on the bench next to you. He’s so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his body. He sets a gloved hand on your own thigh, squeezing it slightly, making your pulse jump. He has to know, right? He has to know that he has this effect on you? That whenever he touches you, though that isn’t often, it makes your blood boil with want. Does he know that as your hands worked to close his wound earlier all you could think about was what his perfect, meaty thigh would feel like wedged between your own? 

He doesn’t move his hand, just lets it rest there, thumb rubbing across the material of your trousers, comforting you, because he’d scared you earlier, he knows he did, and he needs you to know he’s never going to leave you, even if he’s not quite ready to verbalise that to you yet. You let your head drop to his shoulder, closing your eyes as he stays there for you, his body offering you’re the comfort you so desperately need. 

“I’m always going to fix you Mando,” you speak quietly, “You’ll never have to stitch yourself up ever again.” 

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

[crappycamille]

a/n: it’s hard not to be uncontrollably desperate for bakugou… minors dni 18+

Katsuki often wonders why you have such a huge influence over him. He’s often called villainous because of his unorthodox methods and his brash personality (especially when he was younger), but Bakugou has always prided himself in having a strong moral compass. Plus, he’s not easily influenced by others. But there’s something different about you. Something that brings out a sadistic side of him. It’s entirely your fault. You make him irrational. There isn’t a thing in this world that he wouldn’t do for you, and that’s scary. Without a second thought, he would become more heinous than any of the villains he pursues for you. He tries not to think about it too much. It's truly dangerous. But that strong moral compass he prides himself in quickly diminishes when the topic is you. It’s almost sick the way he feels about you. But how could he not? You do little to quell his unhealthy addiction. You do quite the opposite.

You’re just so needy… so so impatient.

There’s just no reason for you to be begging him to fuck you like your life is going to end. You are pure sin. Propped up on the bed, legs spread wide. Extra wide. Allowing him to see every inch of your sopping-wet, slightly puffy, pussy. Two fingers desperately trying to relieve the insatiable burn in your lower stomach. He can hardly blink as he watches you move rapidly, so incredibly desperately. There’s just so much for him to take in. The way your body jolts when you circle your clit. Your fingers plunging deep in your slick. Your hips grinding erratically against your hand as you try to reach deeper and deeper because it’s not deep enough. Your other hand grasping for anything you can reach: your nipples, your neck, the sheets below you, your hair.

Your body is constantly in dire need of him.

And that’s not even the worst of it. It’s that slutty little mouth of yours that sends Bakugou over the edge. It makes him question every moral cell in his body. It’s the way you beg. You’re breathing so heavily like you’ll pass out at any moment. Moaning and whining as if it’s the only thing keeping you conscious.

“K-Katsuki! Please please please please, please. I need you. Please.” You struggle to keep your eyes on him with your head rolling from side to side no longer having the strength to hold it straight up. Vision is completely hazy, blurred by tears and lust. “It’s not deep enough! It’s not enough. Only you! Only your cock can fill me! Please!”

The groan he lets out tumbles deep from within him. He can’t help but palm himself through his thick cargo pants. He's still in his hero suit. He had barely gotten home from patrol when he walked into the sight of you like this… desperate. He hadn’t even been gone for very long. Just a measly two hours since he was called in to take over the end of Kirishima’s shift. Yet, those two hours were an eternity to you. Enough to make you yearn and miss him as if he’d be gone forever.

“Ah, fuck— Plllleaseeee! I need you! Ugh, Katsuki! Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki!” Somehow you sounded even more desperate, chanting his name like it was the only word you could remember. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you were already writhing in pleasure for him, painfully so.

Bakugou thinks he could watch you like that for hours. His hand holds steady on his crotch to ease the throbbing so he doesn’t cum in his pants. It’s so addicting to see you like this. To see you this wound up for him and him alone. That’s why he can’t give in right away, as much as his body screams at him to. He has to savor every moment of your pain. Of your pure desperation.

But he is only so strong… “I’m coming. I’ve got you, Princess.”

#bakugou drabble #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou thirst #bakugou thoughts

[mrkis]

⛧ this is apart of my ‘MARK BDAY REQUEST SPECIAL’ event that i will be doing for his bday (originally wednesday-sunday, but now im posting them when i can). requests are now CLOSED for this.

REQUEST: ⇢ for the bday mark request!!! maybe reader sends mark several videos and sexts throughout the day since mark is busy with schedules on his bday, then surprises mark when he finally gets home hehe

⛧ WARNINGS: social media format at first but then writing, 18+ content, sexting, mean!mark, bratty!reader, mentions of cum, choking, fingering

[ AUTHORS NOTE. sorry that i'm so behind, i'm still sick and not really in the mental state to do anything lmfao. but i managed to pump this one out, i hope you enjoy <3 ]

Your body buzzes with excitement as you read Mark’s last text, a grin forming on your lips as you shut off your phone and place it on the bedside table, keeping your position on the bed as you know your front door is already unlocked—it always is for him.

During your relationship with Mark, he’s always been very caring and loving, always careful and delicate when touching your body and making you cum on his cock, fingers or tongue and kissing you so sweetly after.

He rarely ever shows his mean side, something that’s constantly locked away and something you’ve only seen once. 

You remember it well. You visited him after hours at the studio, watching him work on lyrics and testing a few beats for a song he was working on. It wasn’t your fault that he looked so attractive with a serious expression that made you desperately want to sit on his face. You had teased him, seating yourself in his lap and subtly rubbing yourself against his cock, ignoring the warnings he was giving you due to you being so clouded by lust. 

The next thing you remember was suddenly being bent over his lap, stomach against his thighs, skirt flipped up over your hips and ass raw as he spanked you, muttering the most mouth watering filth that made you cum on the spot. But after that, he returned to his normal and loving self as he wrapped you up in his arms on his lap, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and claiming how much he loves you. 

You wanted that Mark back. You love soft Mark, you love caring and gentle Mark, but there was something about a mean and dominant Mark that makes you feel crazy. You yearn for him to come back, to snap and have you any way he pleases. 

It makes your thighs clench thinking about it, a giddy smile spreading across your cheeks as you hear your front door open and slam shut, loud footsteps moving along the floorboards heading in your direction—the bedroom. 

The door to your room swings open and you almost jump Mark when you see the look on his face, eyes wild and brows furrowed, clearly angrily at your swarm of texts and videos you’ve sent him throughout the day. 

His breathing is steady despite the look on his face, hands buried deep into the pockets of his sweatpants and fail to hide the obvious hard on he’s sporting, and you bite back the urge to make a comment about how much you must’ve really affected him.

“What game are you playing right now?” He asks you, tone deep which makes your pussy ache. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing” You feign innocence, giving him a smile. “I’m just giving you your birthday presents”

“My birthday present is you?” Mark asks you again as he steps a few steps further into your room, standing at the edge of your bed. His question sparks interest in you, the way he said it has your tummy rolling and tightening in knots. 

“Yes” You confirm, spreading your legs to show him that you’re bare beneath the shirt of his you’re wearing and he exhales deeply, pressing his lips together to suppress any other sound. “I’m all yours. You can do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want?” Mark repeats as his hands reach forward, curling his fingers around your ankles which causes your brow to raise up in question. “Are you sure you want to say that to me, baby? After all the texts and the videos you sent?” Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when you feel his grip on you tighten. “Do you know that Jaemin and Haechan saw how hard I got after I saw them? How they teased me about the hold you got over me?”

“I do, don’t I?” You tease despite your voice wavering a little, biting your bottom lip nervously as your thighs press together for some friction. You decide to push the buttons, testing him to see if he snaps by using words that aren’t even true. “Every single thing I do makes your little cock hard, doesn’t it?”

He grins with a soft hum as his thumb strokes your skin, tongue prodding at his cheek and the look in his eyes darken before his tight grip returns, a yelp erupting from your throat as Mark suddenly drags you down the bed, the silk sheets sliding against your skin as he pulls you flush against him. 

One hand wraps around your throat as his mouth attacks yours while the other slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your wet folds before he pushes two fingers in without warning, the arousal and cum from your previous orgasm making it an easy access.

You gasp against his lips as you feel him pump his fingers inside you, brushing over the spot that has your toes curling and mind whirling, unable to keep up with the kiss to which he slides his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of drool and spit seeping past your lips as his tongue glides with your own.

Mark’s putting the right amount of pressure on your neck to keep you still and the shockwaves of pleasure courses through your veins, thighs trembling around his hand that fucks your pussy into oversensitivity, your own hand flying down to grip his wrist to try and stop his fast paced movements but he grunts, biting on your lower lip in warning.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Mark speaks low as you pant into his mouth, whines and cries spilling from your lips. “For me to do whatever I want?” He then pouts at you mockingly, head turning to the side. “Aw baby… don’t tell me you regret it already?”

“I don’t” You manage to choke out, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep them open. “Do your worst. Show me what you got”

“Oh, my pretty girl…” He hums softly as he presses his thumb to your clit for extra stimulation, relishing in the sounds you make as he stares at you. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you”

#mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee x reader #[ mark bday special ! ]

[lovelyhan]

— bad habits ⟢

pairing: joshua x reader

summary: it’s common practice to not sleep around with your ex months after you broke up. too bad you and joshua are terrible at doing things by the book. 

word count: 1.3k words

tags: exes with benefits, pining, mild angst, smut

warnings: graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this is shorter than my usual work, bc i really just wanted to get shua out of my system..... smut tags are under the cut!

smut tags: car sex, fingering, protected sex, praise kink, soft dom joshua

It's Friday night when you tell Seungkwan that you're going out for a quick grocery run. When he asks if you're going alone, you don't really see any benefit in skirting around the truth.

"They're just errands," you say when you catch him glaring daggers at you from his comfortable nest on the couch. "I had my car fixed the other day, remember? He just happened to be in the area and offered to give me a ride to and from the supermarket."

Your best friend-slash-roommate scoffs. "When has it ever been just errands when you're left alone with him for more than five minutes?"

You love Seungkwan—really, you do. But there's something about his too-appraising stare and too-critical words that makes you want to do the things you aren't supposed to even more.

Then, you remember you're not that petulant. Of course you aren't constantly keeping in touch with your ex-boyfriend for the sole reason of going against what Seungkwan tells you. If that were the case, things would be much, much easier.

But life doesn't always turn up daisies, things don't always go as planned, and part of you doesn't always think it's a bad thing to fuck Joshua Hong in the backseat of his SUV.

"Jisoo," you whisper, a name he only ever lets those closest to his heart address him with. Half a year later, it seems that you're still on the list. "More, please."

You're perched on his lap, thighs splayed wide right atop his own as he loosens you up with lithe fingers. You can't see the way Joshua smirks, but you can feel how his lips twitch against the column of your throat, pressing a featherlight kiss across your fever-pitched skin.

"Always so good for me," he murmurs, thumbing at your clit in a way that has you squirming in his grasp. "You're so worked up today, baby. Have you been thinking of this? Of me?"

"Yes—" you gasp when he curls his digits inside you, the pads of his fingers grazing a spongy patch of flesh that makes sparks of electricity crackle beneath your skin.

Joshua catches on to your reaction quickly, letting out a soft chuckle before he increases the intensity of his thrusts. You feel like you should be ashamed of how your pussy squelches with each pass of his long fingers, but instead, you cant your hips in time with the rhythm he's set. Your head has soared right into the clouds, as you sigh out breathless whispers of please, so close, more, more, more—

Then, you topple over the edge—free-falling from the height of release because, just as good as you are to Joshua, he's just as good to you.

Never one to tease too much; always giving you the satisfaction that you constantly crave without expecting anything in return.

A hint of rationality prickles the back of your mind—saying that perhaps the reason you keep coming back for more is because Joshua is all too willing to give it to you. But the thought is lost in the tidal wave of your orgasm, washed away at sea before you can even spot it from the shore.

Your body tingles with oversensitivity, yet the spot where Joshua is holding you steady by the hips burns with need. Your clothes suddenly feel ten times more stifling, and you gaze down at Joshua like you want him to leave no inch of skin untouched.

But even in the midst of post-orgasmic bliss, you're not foolish enough to think this is more than just a quick fuck to him.

Joshua maneuvers you onto your back, laying you down on the leather seats as gently as he always does. Your heart aches at the way he looks at you—soft, with a hint of reverence that has no place in the setting you're currently in—and you forcefully tamp down the visceral emotions threatening to spill out of your chest.

You don't know when he even undid his jeans, but Joshua is already slipping on a rubber when you snap out of it—sighing as he glides the head of his cock along your glistening slit. You have half the mind to remind him that he doesn't need to use condoms, but you know he's doing this for a different purpose entirely.

A boundary. A tangible reminder that you and him only belong to each other in this moment, and nowhere else.

"So beautiful," he sighs once he slips himself inside you—pressing your knees to your chest before surging ever-so forward. "So perfect."

Sometimes, you wish he was as into degrading you as he is with praising you. If everything that came out of Joshua's mouth during sex was filthier than what you could take, it might've been easier to walk away from such a fucked up arrangement.

But all that spills from his lips and into your ears are honeyed words that make you forget every reason why you shouldn't be tangled up in the first place.

You're afraid that you'll never get tired of how he deliciously bucks his hips into yours—spreading your cunt open with each inch of his perfect cock. It doesn't help that he's such a talker. Each unforgiving thrust, he times with the sweetest of words. Taking me so well. Baby, you're just made for me, aren't you?

From the start, it was already a losing battle, and you'll gladly give Joshua all the spoils.

There's always something calculated in how Joshua pulls you apart every time. He never comes first—always wanting to feel your pussy squeeze the release out of him in the riptide of your orgasm.

It's no different now, when he reaches between your two slotted bodies—already cramped in the limited space of his car—and rubs your oversensitive clit in quick, precise circles. Your teeth catch on the curve of his shoulder, right over his shirt, to muffle the moan he inevitably rips out of you.

"Good fucking girl," he half-moans, half-growls before his vigorous thrusts come to a halt.

You try to ignore the sinking sensation that comes with feeling Joshua fill up the condom with white-hot release. You try not to remind yourself of the strict boundary he's maintained.

Most importantly, you avoid thinking about why he hasn't once tried to kiss you since you started fucking around all those months ago.

By the time you're both sated and dressed, the supermarket was already closed, and Joshua makes an off-hand comment about your misplaced priorities. You laugh with him for the sake of laughing with him, but deep down, you can't help but agree.

He drops you off in front of your apartment, smiling like he didn't just wreck you in more ways than one. You roll your eyes, pointing out that his ride reeks of sex, and that he should air it out before giving anyone else a ride.

"Then let's just take it somewhere else next time," he says so casually, you nearly trip on your own feet on the way out.

The two of you exchange goodbyes like two, well-meaning friends before he pulls up the window of the passenger seat and speeds away. You wonder if Joshua's heart twists the same way as yours.

Seungkwan is still awake when you make it back home—munching on a bag of baby carrots with a whole lecture about making better life decisions locked and loaded. But he never gets to present it when you collapse right next to him on the sofa, sobbing into his arms just like the day you broke up with Joshua.

He sighs, putting his food away before offering solace that you probably, definitely don't deserve.

But you have a bad habit of taking everything that's freely given to you, and you don't think you'll stop anytime soon.

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #joshua #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #exes with benefits #joshua x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan #joshua smut #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚

[barcalover86]

Mi culpa- Pablo Gavi (a)

Summary: You and Gavi had a huge fight right before his game, and he tells you that he doesn't want you to make it to the game and you get into a car accident.

I saw this on tik tok, so credits to whoever had this idea first. Enjoy!!

2nd Masterlist

"He said he would be here, mama."

"Y/n, sweetheart, it's been 2h. He is clearly not coming anymore."

"I'll call him again"

"You've already called him multiple times. He won't answer. It's ok, you can go to his game."

"But he said he would be here! Maybe something happened to him."

You started to panick at the thought of losing Gavi. You've been together for a long time, and you just couldn't imagine your life without this boy by your side.

He promised you that he would come to your family lunch. Everyone was there waiting for him. Your cousins, parents, uncles, grandparents.. everyone.

You texted him constantly, hoping for at least an answer, but he wouldn't pick up his phone. He never did that, and you were now on the edge of crying in front of your family.

You were so embarrassed when people would ask you about where he is. You at first tried to say that he is only at some training or the traffic is wild now.

It had come to a time when no more excuses could be make.

"Don't you want to eat something?"

"No, papa."

"He is for sure, alright. Maybe he couldn't make it, but forgot to tell you."

"No, he wouldn't do this."

You sighed before apologising to everyone about Gavi and telling them that you are going to his house to see what's the problem.

When you arrived there you saw Gavi preparing to go to the game. When you saw him alive and all save, anger started to feel in all your body.

"Qué te pasa?" (What is wrong with you!?)

When he heard your voice, he smiled, but right after he saw your face, it faded away.

"Qué-?"

"No me digas que no sabes de lo que hablo" (Don't tell me you don't know what i'm talking about)

"No, realmente no lo hago."

After you realised that he forgot about this lunch, you felt like you could kill someone right there. He promised to you and knew how important it was for you.

"No puedo creerlo" you said it more to yourself. How could he forget?

"Por favor, dime de qué estás hablando." (Please tell me what you are talking about.) he said it with a shaky voice.

"Te olvidaste de mi almuerzo familiar!! ¡Me prometiste que estarías allí y sabías lo importante que era para mí!" (You forgot my family lunch!! You promised me that you would be there and you knew how important it was to me!)

When he remembered about the lunch, he stopped doing whatever he was and tried to come to you to apologise, but you just walked out of his embrace.

"Te he llamado varias veces durante horas, Pablo! Por jodidas horas! No tienes idea de lo avergonzado que me sentí allí de pie, esperándote mientras todos preguntaban 'dónde está tu novio!?' Pues yo tampoco lo sé!" (I have called you several times for hours, Pablo! For fucking hours! You have no idea how embarrassed I felt standing there, waiting for you while everyone was asking 'where's your boyfriend!?' Well, I don't know either!)

"Y/n-"

"Y lo peor es que pense que te habia pasado algo! Estaba entrando en pánico porque te perdí y tú estás... aquí!? Haciendo.. nada!? (And the worst thing is that I thought something had happened to you! I was panicking because I lost you and you're…here!? Doing. Nothing!?)

"Lo siento mucho. Lo olvidé por completo, pero por favor tienes que entenderme también. Tengo un juego difícil esta noche y mi mente estaba en eso. Lo siento mucho" (I am sorry. I completely forgot, but please, you have to understand me too. I have a tough game tonight, and my mind was only on it. I'm really, really sorry.)

He was sad and you tried to understand him, but just couldn't. It was something that is hard to forget.

"Deberías haberme dicho esto antes de prometerme que estarías allí." (You should have told me this before you promised me you'd be there.)

He rolled his eyes. He was in no mood for a fight now, and he really had to go to the stadium.

"Entiendo, es mi culpa, pero por favor, olvidémoslo. Tengo un juego para asistir-" (I understand, it's my fault, but please, let's forget about it. I have a game to attend-)

"Solo te importa ese juego!" you said it, now really angry. You were about to cry, but tried to keep as calm as possible.

"Bueno, por supuesto. ¡Ahora mismo es más importante!" (Now it's more important)

"Qué?" you said it shocked. You really had enough of this.

"Como has oído, sí. Tengo que concentrarme en ello." (As you heard, yes. I have to concentrate on it.)

"Entonces el juego es mas importante que yo?"

"Ahora sí"

You felt like you could throw yourself from a bridge now.

You nodded your head and were about to leave before saying the last thing he ever heard from you.

"Entonces no quiero arruinar tu noche." (Then I won't ruin your night.).

He rolled his eyes once again.

"Estás siendo tan dramático. Realmente espero que no llegues al estadio. No soporto tu estado de ánimo esta noche." (You are being so dramatic. I really hope you don't make it to the stadium. I can't stand your mood tonight.)

When you heard him say that, you smiled sadly. You never thought that you two would become like this. You still wanted to come to his match. You knew that he didn't mean it and that your support was really important for him.

Pablo felt horrible after you left. He never shouted at you, and doing that made him devastated. He tried to forget about your fight. He had a match to win tonight.

You went back to your house without saying anything more. Your parents asked you if you talked to your boyfriend. At that moment, you didn't even know if you were together anymore. All this was so confusing and you needed to clear your mind for a bit.

You threw yourself on the bed and slept for some good minutes.

When it was only 30 minutes before the game would begin, you changed (still wearing his jersey) and went to your car to drive yourself to the stadium.

You still hadn't eaten anything and you were starting to be a bit dizzy.

It was already night outside, and the traffic was absolutely full. When you were right next to the stadium, someone bumped hard into you, making pieces of your car to be thrown away. You only saw white, and you fainted.

While the game had started, sirens of ambulance started to be heard everywhere. People were confused and curious, the game being forgotten.

After the first half ended, Xavi went directly at Gavi, shouting his name.

"Gavi!!! Gavi!! Ven aquí!"

"Qué pasa?"

"Tu chica está en el hospital... en coma. Ve con ella ahora mismo. Tienes que estar allí con-" (your girl is in the hospital in a coma. You have to go there, be with-)

"Qué!? No- por favor, Xavi, no-"

"Lo siento mucho"

"No, no"

Right now, Gavi started to cry. It was his fault and only his. He had to take you here himself. Now he lost you forever.

He hurried up to the hospital you were at, leaving the game behind. He ran like he never had.

When he arrived, he asked everyone about you. Every nurse that was around was asked about your condition by Gavi. He was really panicked and when he saw your family standing there, he cried harder.

He started to say that it's all his fault and that you two fought. He couldn't lose you knowing that the last thing you talked was something bad.

Your family tried to console him, knowing how a good boy he is. Nothing was working. He wanted to see you, he had to see you.

He stayed there all night on that chair. He didn't sleep at all, wanting to be the first one that knew about your condition. He prayed all the time, hoping for you to wake up.

He just couldn't live without you.

He cried like he never had. Days had passed, and Gavi was still there at the hospital. He saw you only for some seconds, and it was enough for him to make him cry harder.

Your parents and his would bring chlotes to him and food. He just didn't want to leave that seat.

His eyes were all red and puffy while your mother was hugging him close to her heart. She would tell him nice stuff in his ear, trying to calm him down a bit.

He knew that if you would die, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for it.

Everyone was praying for you because everyone loved you. You were a sweet person, someone who went through hell in this life, but every time, you chose to be a kind-hearted girl. You were the one that was there for everyone, the friend that you wouldn't get bored with.

Every person would want a friend like you, and every boy would love a girlfriend as you.

"Gavi!!! Gavi!!!! Everyone is cheering for this incredible boy! Spain, champions of the world!! All this because of this talent of Pablo Gavi!!"

"You did it, amor! Congratulations!!!!!"

"Mis chicas..." he said while taking your daughter from your hands and kissing your lips.

"Te amo.." he said, and you smiled.

"Te amo, y/n".

He said while holding your hand on the hospital bed.

"Despertar... por favor" (wake up.. please)

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[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[7:33 pm]

(cw: reader is pregnant, mentions of throwing up, mood swings, “asshole”)

Everyday was getting more and more exhausting the closer you got to your due date. Your feet hurt, your back ached, the cravings drove you crazy, and the mood swings were hard to deal with. Starting the day off earlier than you would have liked certainly didn’t help since you couldn’t get back to sleep with the little limbs moving like it was the middle of the day and not 6 in the morning.

It was like any little thing was close to ending you into a rage. Remembering you had to drink decaf when you were so tired just annoyed you, there was nothing good playing on tv, your leftovers for lunch didn’t heat up well, and no position you sat in eased the aching you felt in your bones which was not helped by constantly getting up to pee. On top of all of this it was just so warm in the apartment, so humid and gross feeling- overall just not a great day.

And poor Haechan, if you were in a better mood you might be able to appreciate him more, but not today. You were annoyed when he strolled into the kitchen with his usually endearing bed head at 10, clearly having been able to comfortably sleep in. The scent of his coffee wafted through the whole house making your mouth water, watching his YouTube and laughing, and he was able to walk around and lift things to finish setting up the nursery. Yesterday you had been happy to receive your usual forehead kiss and watch him work on getting the nursery finished up, but today was not the day. You could feel your anger building up more and more the next thing to annoy you was probably going to send you over the edge.

You were laid on the couch borderline glaring at a commercial when a sweaty smelling Haechan waltzed in and sat at the very end of the couch. He reached for you and pushed your feet slightly to the side to reach over and rub your stomach. Unfortunately, the baby decided to move as much as they could causing an aching pain in your lower back and a sudden shortness of breath. You could feel your throat tighten and your breathing got heavier and faster. You felt a pressure at the back of your eyes right before you started cry.

Haechan’s eyes widened, “My love, what’s wrong?”

You sat up, wiping away the endless stream of tears while you managed to get out, “Why are you touching me? It’s so hot and you made the baby move and now my back hurts even more. I was just getting comfy and you ruined it.”

“I’m so sorry my love,” he replied tentatively, easing himself down from the couch to crouch in front of you.

“You just smell so bad, I want to throw up, and my lunch wasn’t good, and they must hate me because everything on tv is just so bad today. Today is the worst day of my life,” you sobbed. Haechan bit back a laugh which only made you sob harder, “Don’t laugh at me, you did this to me.”

“I know my love, I am so sorry. Look, I’ll close all the windows and turn down the air so it’s nice and cool for you. I’ll order your favorite for dinner, does that sound good?” Haechan asked gently, slightly scared that he might add fuel to the fire.

You shook your head, “I want Thai tonight.”

Haechan smiled, “I’ll order that before I hop in the shower, do you need anything else?”

“Besides your kid out of my body? Can you get me more juice please, with 5 ice cubes only?” You asked sweetly, no longer crying.

“Of course my love, 5 ice cubes got it,” Haechan nodded. He closed all the windows and the blinds before he disappeared out of your sight, you heard the air conditioning kick on and then the ice falling into the glass.

He came back and set the glass of juice on the table beside the couch, turning back in the direction of your bedroom immediately after. You could feel your negative emotions just melt away. A few minutes later Haechan joined you back in the living room on the adjacent couch. You reached for his hand, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“You don’t have to apologize my love, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t think to touch you without your permission,” Haechan replied.

“No, usually it’s ok but the baby has been a real pain in everything today. I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep and the baby has been awake and too active all day,” you sighed.

Haechan leaned down to get eye-level with your stomach, “Hey stink, you better stop being a pain.”

Later as you ate your food, happy and finally at complete ease, you looked at Haechan seriously, “I love you, but I’m not getting pregnant again anytime soon.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that because I’m not getting you pregnant anytime soon. I’ve had enough morning sickness and midnight cravings runs to last me a few years. God, and painting that nursery 3 slightly different shades of white was a total pain,” Haechan groaned running a hand down his face.

“Oh, you’ve had enough of all that have you? Imagine experiencing it first hand asshole. You don’t get to complain about those things like I do, you’re not growing your own hyperactive offspring,” you huffed.

Haechan froze, expecting another rage induced breakdown, switching on his soft and understanding voice at the blink of an eye, “You’re so right my love, I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes, “that’s what I thought.”

-

a/n: hello if you’ve read this far do you prefer my writing with or without the read more? I just forgive it might be nicer as someone perusing the tags to not have to scroll a bunch past a single work, thank you!!!

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