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#from the top make it drop that’s a wip
blackpanda-ts4 · 2 months
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NPC Fasion
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NPC Fashion - is a configuration file for MC Command Center. It won't work without MCCC.
Compitable with the latest game patch.
If you are tired of ridiculously dressed NPCs, or you want your newly generated NPCs are being dressed at least not like weirdos and you are using MCCC, than this file is the solution.
This file contains:
1530 unique female outfits total;
1771 unique male outfits total;
341 unique female (elders) outfits total;
653 unique male (elders) outfits total;
133 unique female (child) outfits total;
245 unique male (child) outfits total;
263 unique outfits for infants.
How to install:
simply drop the file from the archive in MCCC folder and confirm replacement if needed.
In game:
Click on a Computer >> [MC Command Center] >> [MC Dresser] >> [Only Use Saved Outfits] :
**You must choose "Enabled" for MC Dresser to clean sims with outfits listed in the CFG file.
Click on a Computer >> [MC Command Center] >> [MC Population] >> [Population Settings] >> [Run Dresser] :
**You must choose "Enabled" for new sims to be generated with clean outfits.
Download here: NPC Fashion (SFS)
Warning! I have all EPs and DLSs. This means that if you don't have some clothes, which where used in this .cfg file, some outfits may be "broken" (missing bottom or top etc.).
I highly recommend using this mods to make NPCs in your game much more prettier:
NO MAKE-UP & NO ACCESSORIES ON RANDOMIZED SIMS by @simplyanjuta
PRESETS SELECTION FOR RANDOMIZED SIMS by @simplyanjuta
No Female Body Hair by YourFalseHope
African Male YA Template Fixes by @thefreshsims
This is a WIP project, it means that more outfits will be added.
Credits:
@deaderpoolmc  - For the mod (MC Command Center)
@2cool4u_1 from LovesLab - for inspo and precise instructions
https://vk.com/thesimslab - for iparticipating in the update
@sssvitlanz @mmfinds @maxismatchccworld @alwaysfreecc thank you so much for sharing!
More samples of outfits, which newly generated NPC can wear under the cut:
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solarmorrigan · 3 months
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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!
[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]
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Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.
“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.
“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.
He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.
“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”
Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”
Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.
“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.
This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”
Steve snorts. Is he okay?
Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”
Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.
Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.
And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”
It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.
He couldn’t.
He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.
So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.
But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.
“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”
Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.
“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.
Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.
“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”
Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”
“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.
“I guess,” Steve mutters.
“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”
Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.
Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.
Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.
“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”
At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.
“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”
But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.
“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”
“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”
“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”
Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”
In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”
Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”
Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”
“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.
“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.
And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?
(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)
(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)
“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.
“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”
Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Munson presses.
“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.
“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”
“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).
“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”
Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”
“Ah,” Munson says.
“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”
“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.
Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”
“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.
“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”
Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”
“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.
“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”
The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”
“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”
Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.
“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.
He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.
“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”
That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).
“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.
“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”
“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.
“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”
Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.
“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”
“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?
“What?” Steve asks.
“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”
“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”
And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”
“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”
“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.
Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”
“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”
Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”
Steve blinks at him. “What?”
“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.
It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.
On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.
“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.
Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.
“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.
“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”
It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.
“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.
Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.
He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?
Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.
He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.
The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.
After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.
“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.
“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.
When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”
Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”
“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”
Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.
(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)
“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.
If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.
He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.
“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”
Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”
“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”
“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”
Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”
“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”
“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.
Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”
“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.
His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”
“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.
“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.
“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”
Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.
“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”
Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”
Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.
Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”
Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.
“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.
“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”
Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”
And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.
And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.
2K notes · View notes
fuyuluvr · 4 months
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three attempts and a revelation
pairings: kakucho x reader
synopsis: in which tenjiku tries setting you up... with your boyfriend.
warnings: none! romcom, i make fun of shion too much, kind of an open ending but there's a bonus in the end
wc: 2k
note/s: the necessary pibby tag @kakujis mwa i told you i had a kaku wip in the dms but i never said im dropping it today so surprise :DD
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“ne, (y/n).” you turn your head to the source of the call, seeing kurokawa izana looking at you with a thoughtful look. 
you hummed in question, replying to the gang leader. 
“don’t you think kakucho looks decent today?” you tilt your head in confusion, turning your head trying to locate the scarred male. you let out a noise of acknowledgement. 
“he looks the same?” you answer back. izana gives you his infamous ominous smile, one that you don’t know whether you were in trouble or you’ve managed to fall into his good graces. and you hope to whoever was listening that it was the latter. 
“but doesn’t he look very… enticing to you?” 
you give izana a look. “izana, if you want me to tell kaku that you lik–” “not another word.” “fine.” you huff, izana smiles once more. 
“i think you and kakucho would make a perfect pair. you both serve me efficiently so i believe that you and him are meant to be.” 
the look you gave izana was one for the books. “where are you going with this, exactly?” izana smiles and shakes his head. 
“i’m only giving you a choice, and i think it’s in your best interest to take it.” you blinked in confusion. “i’m gonna need you to speak japanese because what you’re saying is starting to sound like filipino.” izana raises an eyebrow at the response. 
you sigh, “it means you’re not making any sense.” 
izana laughs, pushing himself up from the crate that he sat on before dusting off his hands. 
“right, i’m going on ahead and ensuring tenjiku is in top shape.” izana bids goodbye, walking away but turning his upper body towards you after some distance, the lower part of his coat swishing with the wind, making the scene much more dramatic than this was intended. 
“just think about it, okay? i’ve seen the way my servant looks at you.” 
“stop calling him that, we both know you care for him as a younger brother!”
he waves his hand with his back turned to you, walking away. “would you look at that, i can’t hear you anymore.”
“izana!”
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after that very weird encounter with izana, you continued on with your week, trying not to think much of it. 
“oi, (y/n)!” 
you look back and waved at the new company. it has been three days since then.
“oh hey, ran.” you smile as he catches up to your pace, walking alongside you. 
“do you have any plans today?” you shook your head. “‘m gonna head home, i think i can still cook something for dinner, why?” 
“join tenjiku and i for dinner tonight, our treat, come on.” “eh? you don’t have to do that.”  ran shakes his head with a smirk, “no seriously, izana told me to fetch you, said he wants to talk to you about something.“
you were beginning to get confused, sure you and izana were somewhat on decent terms but you don’t really expect to be having dinner with him or his little gang buddies, but who were you to say no to free food? 
“where?” “some ramen place by the corner of this block.” ran slings an arm around your shoulder, luring you into the inside of the street. 
“do i have a choice in this?” “depends if you want some rando to get beaten up by izana because you didn’t follow his orders.” the both of you laughed before you agreed, letting him lead you to the ramen shop. 
once you both enter, you see izana and his heavenly kings in one booth, discussing amongst themselves. when rindou catches sight of you, he waves ran over and you can see the way rindou’s eyes kept flicking to the side, as if he were nonverbally telling ran something, and with the way those siblings worked, you wouldn’t be surprised if they did. 
“ah right.” ran clasped his hands together before smirking. “there’s only one chair left so you’ll be separated.” a frown enters your face. why bother inviting you over if they’re just going to isolate you? 
before you could voice out that you’d rather just head home and eat in the comfort of your own home than eat alone in public, you hear a deep voice apologize from behind you. 
“sorry, i’m late.” izana tilts his head, the usual smile plastered on his face. 
“it’s not like you to be tardy, kakucho.” you turn around to see the aforementioned standing behind you, a smile unintentionally enters your face, not slipping under tenjiku’s sharp eyes. 
“oh? it looks like a booth just opened up.” it didn’t. mochi was just saving the seat for when you and kakucho arrived but you didn’t need to know that. 
without another warning, you and kakucho were pushed into a booth by muto and shion, a goofy smirk on shion’s face was made evident when he pushed kakucho to sit in front of you. 
kakucho, being caught off guard almost throws a punch but luckily his mismatched eyes caught sight of you looking at him and all plans to carve shion’s face in disappears. 
“enjoy.” was all muto says before the two of them go back to the booth that the other tenjiku members were occupying. 
once the two of you were alone, you gave kakucho another look before giving him a smile. 
“hey.” you greet. kakucho nods in acknowledgement, lips subtly quirking up.
“hey.”
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look. rindou wouldn’t call himself a nosy person– that’s a lie, he and his brother eat gossip up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, maybe even as a snack. but he isn’t nosy, he swear. (he has an innate talent of making himself seem indifferent.)
“ne, kakucho.” rindou asks as he sets down the dumbbell with a grunt. kakucho, who was working on bench presses, huffed out a reply. why he didn’t bother putting down the weight was beyond rindou. 
“what do you think of (y/n)?” kakucho puts down the weight he was pressing as he sits up, “where is this coming from?” rindou plays it off cool as he sips his bottle of water. 
“dunno, just thought i’d ask. she seems to be hanging out with tenjiku often. just wanted to know what your thoughts were.” kakucho looks at rindou warily. “you know she has a boyfriend, right?”
rindou did not know that. his eyes widened, he looked as if he wanted to ask kakucho for more information but kakucho was already preparing to do his next workout. 
rindou will ask later, for now, he whips out his phone and messages ran. 
[aniki, you won’t believe what i just found out.]
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to say the next tenjiku intervention was annoying would be an understatement. 
you’ve got all the heavenly kings’ eyes on your every move, trying to decipher out who your boyfriend was. at first, it was honestly quite funny having mochi converse with you and try to get you to talk about your love life– he failed. 
next, you had shion try to woo you into his charms and that didn’t work, although the slap mark he presented when he walked around the warehouse was hilarious. 
hell, even izana tried to find out who your boyfriend was, but in the end, it was for naught since he realized that he doesn’t need to ask you.  he can just ask his servant himself. 
“kakucho.” “yes?” 
“who’s (y/n)’s boyfriend?” kakucho looks at izana with a blank expression before he focuses his attention on his phone. 
“i’m not the person you should ask.”
having enough of the secrecy, it was ran who concocted a plan to find out who your boyfriend was. 
it wasn’t as if they really cared that you were in a relationship, but they’ve dug so far out that they want to see something come out of it— read: they did not want to admit that they were bored and really curious to know. so they resorted to their last plan. 
follow you around. 
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“madarame i swear if you won’t stop breathing down my neck–” “maybe if you give enough space, you’re taking it all you fucking gorilla–“ 
“rindou, are you sure that this is where (y/n) will be?” ran whispers, ignoring the chaos happening in the background. rindou nods, “saw it on (y/n)’s phone. the contact name was a heart but i didn’t manage to see the contact picture.”
they hear a huff from behind them, muto was squished between the squabbling mochi and madarame, he was this close to knocking their heads together just to shut them up. 
“could’ve saved us a lot of trouble than having to stand and hide here for the past hour. why do we have to hide anyway? isn’t this still considered tenjiku’s terf?” muto’s question was left unanswered as the ran shushed everyone when he heard the door open. 
the soft pitter patter of your feet was heard as you walked in further in the warehouse. they held their breaths, as another heavier pair of footsteps contrasted against your own. 
rindou peers from one of the crates, squinting at his very best to figure out who you were with. 
“what?! what do you see?” shion harshly whisper yells, if your ears were any sharper, you would’ve realized that you and your boyfriend were not alone. 
“shion, shut the fuck up.” ran drags him by his hair and situates himself to where shion has just been. 
“what do you see?” 
rindou squints more, “can’t see them properly, but the guy is wearing a hoodie, the hood’s up. can’t see him properly but he’s built nice.” blinks and silence. 
rindou glares at his colleagues. “what? it looks like he works out.” 
“you got everything you need, baby?” they hear your voice ask, they all quiet down. waiting to hear your mystery man speak, hoping to at least hear his voice for further research. 
it seems like your boyfriend only gave you a nod because they heard your voice once more, asking if he was ready to leave. 
“wait.” your boyfriend whispers to you. your hand tightly held with his. “we’re not alone.” 
before you can ask what he meant, you were startled when he let go of your hand and threw a wooden box to the metal crates where the rest of the tenjiku members hid. 
they winced at both the vibration and the sound of the metal being hit. 
“whoever you are, you have a minute to get the fuck out of here before i beat you up.” jaws were dropped by the tenjiku members once they realized who the voice belonged to. 
it was ran who walked out first, wanting to confirm who your boyfriend was. the rest of the members barrelled out once they heard ran say, 
“kakucho, you fucking bastard.”
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bonus, before the revelation: 
“babyy.” you whine as you stretch in kakucho’s embrace. kakucho smiles at you, mirth in his eyes as he drops his head down and presses a quick press on your forehead. 
“izana was trying to get us together.” kaku huffs out a laugh, “i’ll tell him about us next week.” you nod, arms tightening around him as you find comfort in his embrace. 
“the haitanis were acting weird too. i think i caught rindou looking at my phone when your text notified.” kakucho listened to your voice, rambling about how tenjiku was acting weird ever since they found out you had a boyfriend. 
well, kakucho did tell rindou that you had one, but kakucho never denied that it was him. rindou never asked anyway, so he technically didn’t do anything wrong. 
“you’re okay with them finding out that you’re with me, right?” kakucho asks, wanting assurance. 
you cup his hands in response, pressing a soft, yet sweet kiss on his pouty lips in response. 
“you’re all that i could ever ask for and more, kaku.” kakucho smiles, feeling undeserving of your love yet still holding you tight that he never wants to let go. 
not that he’d let you go, either. 
if his friends– or colleagues find out, who cares? he’d keep you private but he’d never deny you. too bad they didn't just ask, though.
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note/s: gasps. two fics in one week? this is so not like me (let's enjoy my fic spurts while we can)
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stevieschrodinger · 4 months
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So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.
Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.
Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.
Eddie burns the envelope.
And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.
And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.
Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.
And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.
"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.
And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.
And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"
Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."
And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.
"Steve, I just...look-"
"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.
And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.
"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.
"What has that go to do with-"
Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."
And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .
"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.
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proxima-writes · 1 month
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along for the ride
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pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count:
summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.
author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕
warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!
“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.
“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”
“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”
“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”
Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”
“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.
Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.
“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items. 
“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.
“What do you mean?”
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seeking valentine
36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email [email protected] with a pic and bio for consideration.
[img01.jpg]
You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.
Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.
Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you. 
Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.
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Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns. 
He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme. 
“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him. 
He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.
“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”
Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”
"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."
"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."
Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"
"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"
"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."
Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"
"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink. 
As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.
"I had a really nice time, Joel.”
"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"
"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?
“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
He chuckles. “You want me to?”
“Please.”
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Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—
“Get a room!” 
You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.
“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”
“I took a cab, actually.”
Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?” 
Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.
Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.
He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher. 
The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.
His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.
“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”
You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core. 
“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.
He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.
The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”
You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door. 
“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”
You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.
“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”
You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.
Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body. 
Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.
“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”
“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.
Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.
His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.
He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.
“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch. 
“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him. 
You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there. 
“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”
You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.
When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure. 
“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”
You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck. 
He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.
“That was—“
“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”
After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”
“You can stay…if you want.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”
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Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”
“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”
“What do you want, Tommy?”
“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”
“What now?” Joel asks.
“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”
Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.
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Joel Miller masterlist
All masterlists
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Text
Follow You Anywhere 1
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.
Characters: Captain Syverson
Note: I couldn't help myself.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
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"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."
You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.
You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."
You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.
"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."
You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.
"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.
You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.
"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."
You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.
You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.
“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 
You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.
You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…
“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.
You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.
A message?
You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.
‘Looked delicious too.’
“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”
‘Don't mean the toast.’
The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.
“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”
You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.
“How about some tunes?” 
You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.
‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?
“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”
You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.
You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.
You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.
“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”
You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.
🧸
You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.
The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.
The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.
You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.
You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.
As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.
You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.
🧸
You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.
You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.
You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.
You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.
A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.
'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.
You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.
'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.
You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.
🧸
You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.
The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.
"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.
As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.
You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.
You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.
"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."
All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.
You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.
As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.
"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.
You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.
"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."
You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?
"You like sweet stuff."
"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.
He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.
You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.
"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.
"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."
You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.
"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.
"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.
"I could drive you. I have a truck."
"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.
"Why not?"
"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"
"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."
"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"
"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."
"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."
"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 
“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."
"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."
"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.
"That's nice but--"
"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."
You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.
"BourbonBear?" You ask.
"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”
425 notes · View notes
pixieknj · 8 months
Text
strawberries n cream 🍓⊹。໒꒱ | JJK (18+)
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♡chapters: one / two / three / four / drabble♡
​⊹🍓series ❤︎ ˚ ༘ ⋆
❥pairing: jungkook X black!reader
❥genre: smut, ex lovers/fwb
❥summary: jungkook’s late night visit to your dorm 🍓…
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
❥!!warnings!!: rough sex/fight sex, detailed smut, some toxicity, crying during sex [nothing sad lol], mention of choking, hickeys, fingerprint bruise
❥other warnings: sexual intercourse, raw sex [please use protection!], oral [fem receiving], some fingering, jungkook is so p^ssy whipped and clingy, puppy jk, princess nickname, pillow princess reader [she just wants her nut okay🎀], mention of weed, comparing brown coochie to food 🍫🍓🍦, featuring jimin, POV switching
❥word count: 3.9k
-inspo: seven by jungkook ft latto, gif from jjkgif on twitter, pics from Pinterest
-author’s note: Seven made me push my other wips to the side and write this soo here it is. I love the song and how Jungkook’s been lately so I was deeply motivated. I am still working on updates, but thank you for waiting. I also have some fic recs to share that I’ve kept. I hope you enjoy this for now💕!
-dedicated to: @maltate123 @mayawastaken26 @lelewright1234 @frogs2857 💗 they’ve been motivating me so much to finish my drop, thank you! and @jkoo-njoo because I miss them 🫶🏽
———————————୨♥︎୧———————————
Jungkook showing up at your dorm at 2:30 in the morning brandishing a My Melody plushie and your favorite snacks further enacts the futility of Jimin’s ability to keep his mouth shut.
What other reason would your ex-slash-situationship be knocking at your door with big eyes and damp, curly hair? With how dramatic Jungkook is, anyone else would have thought he trekked through the light drizzle outside to come comfort or grieve with you. But you know why he’s begging you to let him in and accept his gifts of… proof.
You don’t say anything as you leave the door open for him and go back to making your fruit bowl on the counter. You’d finished showering and doing your skincare routine to prepare for bed, but you’ve been too restless to sleep, hence, why you’re eating. Jungkook appearing out of nowhere looking like that isn’t going to help either.
The sound of him closing and locking the door and then slipping out of his shoes has your skin burning in goosebumps. Only now do you notice your frilly, revealing pajama set when Jungkook sets down his offerings and comes up behind you to hug your waist.
“Princess.”
You ignore him, arranging your strawberries and kiwis on top of the pineapples in the bowl. Being mean doesn’t seem to bother him much at first, since he tightens his grip and steps closer, shamelessly sniffing your sweet skin and watching you make your late night snack. His chin digs into your shoulder until you finish off the dessert with whipped cream.
“Princess,” he calls again. But you shake him off and eat a strawberry slice. You’re supposed to be relaxing. It’s becoming impossible with his breath on your neck and the beat of his heart on your spine.
“Jungkook, seriously…” You scold, finally turning around and looking at him head on. “You never understand what space is.”
Jungkook’s eyes are all twinkly and round when he sees you, despite the reddening in them that you know came from smoking weed. You can faintly smell it on his gray hoodie as he presses you up against the counter.
“I’m clingy, so what?” He mumbles. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m not ignoring you,” you lie.
“Missed calls, missed texts… Telling Jimin you need to stay away from me,” Jungkook lists off. “Did I do something wrong?”
Urgh. You knew it was Jimin. A best friend playing both sides in between meant anything you said would make it to the other ear. You could just picture him with the nastiest grin ready to tell your ex all you’ve said about him. Jimin does it to you, too, smiley and hyped about news he needs to tell you about Jungkook.
“Not everything is about you,” you sigh. The way he’s confronting you has suddenly decreased your appetite and replaced it with nervous adrenaline. “Why are you even here?”
“I can’t come check on you now?”
You scoff. “That’s not why you’re here.”
Jungkook licks the piercings in his bottom lip, a solemn expression of that of a puppy’s gracing his boyish features. His head falls to your shoulder in slight shame.
“You think that lowly of me?” He asks. “That I’d walk all this way in the rain for some ass?”
“You’ve done much worse,” you remind him, pushing him off so you don’t have to hear him manipulate his way back into your underwear. Not that it takes him much effort. You think he talks how he does because it makes his dick hard and easier for you to succumb.
Jungkook clicks his tongue at how you read him but follows closely behind you to the other side of the dorm, plopping down onto your bed right next to you like it’s his own and cuddling one of your many Sanrio plushies, half that he bought. You roll your eyes and grab the remote to put on old cartoons, realizing he’s not going anywhere.
Leave it to Jeon Jungkook to be the attached and sickeningly pathetic lover boy of an ex. You hate that he still wants to see you and hang out. You hate that he doesn’t disown you to other people and shit on your name. You hate that he holds onto the connection between you both like it’s his lifeline.
He treats you as you did when you were dating, and it fucking sucks. Even though you lost him, you still have him, and it eats at you that you pushed him away for shit he didn’t have anything to do with. It’s not fair how you’re treating him in return, and you know he deserves better.
Your mind isn’t in the right place to give itself to him like he wants. But your body is. Always.
So you only resist a little when he tugs you into his side, ensuing the push and pull of tonight’s theme. Undoubtedly, the best atmosphere for the best sex. Jungkook understands how he’ll have to play to get your tiny, lace panties down your legs.
Determined, obsessive, and just as hateful back to take control.
Jungkook caresses your skin for a while before he’s pulling you over him, hips pressed together and grabbing your wrists to keep you from fighting him.
“Just give it to me,” he grumbles against your neck, seeing no need to keep beating around the bush. “Don’t you know how bad I wanna fuck you?”
Of course you do. He shows it every time, acts like he can’t go a day without you being wrapped around him or he’ll go insane.
His mouth drags kisses down your jaw as if you’re his last everything and that he needs to prove to you he’s worthy by giving it his all. You briefly think about how deliciously bruised he’d have you in mere minutes when he starts teething at the spot on your neck, aiming to get your pussy drenched and inside of you as quick as possible. But you’re not stupid. Remembering why he’d came over.
“N-No marks.”
Jungkook pauses to lean back, chortling a “What?”
“Don’t give me a hickey.”
He blinks. “Why?”
Don’t you understand blooming little flowers on your flesh is his favorite foreplay for a reason…
You, however, hold his puppy dog eyes and state as seriously as you can, “I just want you to make me cum and then get out.”
Fuck, you’re being rude. But you couldn’t bring yourself to explain about your stupid dress and how you need your skin free of Jungkook’s stupid blemishes for your stupid date in less than 24 hours.
Hickeys mean someone is dicking you down. Hickeys mean you’re taken. You don’t want whoever to see Jungkook’s bruises on you and assume you have a lover.
And you’re positive he knows about it by how he tongues his cheek. Now you’ve pissed him off. He thought Jimin was half fucking with him when he mentioned you were seeing someone.
“Fine,” he huffs, maintaining a calm demeanor, and goes back to leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. Obeying your wishes and using more tongue than suction.
His plush lips still get you horny nonetheless. They feel cloud-like against your sternum and the nipple Jungkook frees to suck in between them. He’s already so set on giving you what you want, well-versed in what to do, even the promises of not actually fucking you could deter him.
His bedroom eyes have your thighs clenching as he leans up to unzip his hoodie like he means business, revealing a tank top and toned arms, sharp tattoos. There’s a gold chain around his neck that adds to the sneaky-link/boyfriend look, and you go to mush imagining how you’re flopping this whole situationship so bad.
But it’s okay. Jungkook is fucking it up just as much, for he’s kind of an asshole behind the doe eyes and really fucking crazy about you. Had to work on some anger issues, but that emotion didn’t help win you back the first time. Now, it’s hard to tell what either of you are doing anymore and why he can’t leave you alone.
He doesn’t want you to become just a girl he used to know. Never.
A pretty girl who loves getting her pussy ate any time of the day isn’t how he wants to remember you either, but how could he stop giving you princess treatment, treat you as anything but? You are his princess, and that for sure isn’t going to be taken away.
Jungkook’s jacket is discarded on the floor and so are your soaked, delicate panties after he tugs them down your ankles. He noisily whines at you spreading your legs for him, aware how all the sparkling shades of brown and the bit of pink on the inside makes him want to devour you whole.
Your skin smells of your strawberry shortcake body wash when he bends to suck on your inner thigh, unapologetically biting and marking there because he really can’t help it. He doesn’t believe you’ll let anyone near his prized possession out of respect anyways, no matter who your date is. This is wholeheartedly his pussy.
It’s why you don’t complain about him adding more onto those fading bruises and willingly hold out your tongue when he brings his fingers to your mouth to suck. He sucks on them after you for good measure, rubbing your clit for a second before sliding two inside.
A dimpled smirk graces his face as you nod your head back against the pillows and moan, grabbing his wrist.
“There she is.”
Jungkook takes a swipe of your cunt with his tongue and slides his fingers in further. Just to tease you with what you’re missing, because he knows you love being stuffed full by his cock over oral... So then he’s taking them away from you, pulling you closer by your hips and settling your thighs over his shoulders. And plunging tongue first into your pussy.
His lip piercings rub against your folds as he sucks and nibbles, stiffening his muscle whenever it nudges your swollen clit. There’s no strategy in mind when he goes down on you, so he’s everywhere, licking hard, more so focused on how good you taste and the wetness coating his mouth.
Jungkook groans as you run your fingers through his scalp and push his head closer, arching your hips in a rhythm he hazily matches. You whimper a “fuck” when he lets you take control of his tongue for a second, tilting your head and tightening your thighs around his neck.
“Right there,” you tell him, watching him eat you out like he can’t get enough, hungrily kissing your cunt like he would your lips. He groans back in acknowledgment, not risking speaking over your buildup. But you don’t want to suffocate him, knowing how dirty you play when you’re about to orgasm.
So you push his curly hair back over his forehead to give him some air, seeing him slowly blink up at you with his tongue assaulting your entrance. His brows angrily furrow and his eyes roll closed as if he’s lucid dreaming this, like he’s in his own world. With the addition of his breathy moans on your pussy, you’d think he was addicted.
Jungkook has you cumming in less than seven minutes from his ministrations, although he could have hung it out for hours if he really wanted to. Your sexy, quick orgasm is worth it with how you’re trying to ride out the high, your legs squeezing his head and tongue captive while your cum oozes.
It always amazes him how he can eat you til you cream your pretty pussy right before his eyes. In addition, the rich and saccharine taste of your essence competes with that of strawberries and cream.
Chocolate-covered strawberries and cream to be exact.
He feels the need to let you in on it, too, and forces his tongue into your mouth. You moan and kiss him back, licking the taste of yourself off your lips when he disconnects.
“You really want me to get out?” Jungkook questions, breathless. You can feel his dick against your leg.
You shake your head. “No…”
You can’t have dessert without dinner anyways, right? Why did you think you would be able to kick him out right after? Jungkook is a certified munch and eats cat the same way he fucks. How could you pass up another round?
“No? You want me to fuck you, princess?” Jungkook whispers, your cunt throbbing in new arousal at how he holds your eyes for confirmation.
“Yes. I want you to.”
Jungkook purposely takes his time to pull off his muscle shirt, enjoying how you start toying with your nipples while you watch him undress.
You swear his sleeper build is insane. Muscles and abs, pert chest littered in hickeys you gave him a few nights back. Going feral over that deep v-line of his as he undoes his belt and tugs his baggy jeans down.
You literally moan at the sight of his pretty dick slapping up against his abdomen. You want to swallow it down your throat til you can’t breathe and choke, but then you think about how giving him the best suck of his life isn’t exactly “leave me alone” behavior… None of this is.
Jungkook is left in his gold chain necklace as he repositions between your legs, and you are already about to tear up when he pulls your hips up on his waist for the angle and spits on you. Mixing it in with your past orgasm and then over the dusky head of his dick as lubricant.
“Jungkook…”
He’s taking too long admiring his tip tease between your folds. He looks down at you with a smug grin.
“You want it that bad? Just so you can cry?”
You shyly glance away at the taunt, feeling small underneath him and not as in much control. He has the upper hand for the rest of the night, and it’s going to be hell.
Jungkook digests your silence as submissiveness, and he dislikes that. He wants you to bark back, get feisty with him, and equally as pissed as he is about that date. You would be livid if he was putting his attention into another woman.
It is pure betrayal he feels when he presses himself to your entrance and pushes in all the way. No moment to adjust like he usually gives you. Just hard and raw cock kissing your cervix in one thrust.
“What’s your fucking problem?” You hiss at the sudden sting. It’s ridiculous that you try to hold him back.
“You’re my fucking problem.”
It comes out in a growl, and before you can ask him what the fuck he means by that, he’s gripping your thighs to push them to your torso, leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into his back as he begins thrusting.
“Oh, fuckkk,” Jungkook whines in your ear. You’re tighter like this since he has to fuck you open and can feel you wetting his dick even more for easier slip. But he jerks his hips through the death grip you have around him that he’s sure he’s hitting your g-spot by how loud you’re getting.
His skin starts stinging from you scratching so sharply you draw blood, but he keeps going. You’re losing it, truly, grasping onto the back of his neck and shoulders to hold your ground as he fucks you hard into the mattress.
“I’m right here, princess,” he reassures you and pecks your lips. Your face is scrunched up in pure pleasure, mouth agape, eyes watering. “Feels good?”
You nod.
He knows it feels good, feels like you’re teetering between life and heaven.
“Yeah?”
“Y-Yes, yes, fuck, so good,” you loudly moan, palms falling to his shoulders when he angles his hips a bit deeper. You go to push him to let up, but he moves your hands out of the way, thrusts barely faltering. His stamina and consistency is nothing to play with.
You get a good grip on the hair at the back of his neck next, but it doesn’t stop shit. If anything, Jungkook seems to enjoy how hard you tug at his damp hair while he pounds into you ruthlessly. Speeding up as if he’s about to cum like a masochist, but controlling himself to glide into the pace again.
You want to pass out from how he’s beating your pussy like you owe him money. Your ex is too strong to shove off you, and you’re only weakening with every snap of his pelvis against yours, with every fluttering in your lower stomach. Your eyes are pricking in tears, and you know your orgasm is at the edge.
“Is my princess gonna cry?” Jungkook asks, yanking your hands off of him again and actually stopping to give you a breather. “She’s so big and bad until I fuck her…”
Jungkook lets you fight at him for a bit more because, yeah, you really can’t take dick. Definitely not good, mental dick like his. You cum a lot from the slight pain, though, so he isn’t going to ever deny you your sick pleasure.
Plus, you love it so much. Getting thrown around and manhandled how he likes. He can barely pick up a rhythm after he pins your wrists down to the bed beside your head, you clinging onto him with a baby trapping grip. He grinds so thickly into your walls and against your love button to make damn sure you can sense him in your stomach days later.
Jungkook maintains eye contact as he looks you in the face and lets you cry about it, saying sweet nothings on how pretty you look and how you’re taking his big cock like a good girl. You cum again, holding out for Jungkook so that he can, too. Which he does by pulling out and cumming on top of your sex. He just needed to see that creamy ring around his shaft and knew he could finally let go.
You both lie side by side to calm down and cool off afterwards, staring up at your fairy lights quietly and listening to the sound of another thunderstorm brewing outside. Until your ex tries to cuddle into you, and your heart beats to hurt as much as your cervix.
“Get out.”
“No.”
You sigh. No shit it wasn’t going to be as easy as telling him to leave.
It’s back to ignoring him while you get up and head to the bathroom to pee and turn on the shower. Jungkook, to no surprise, slips in behind you, too. The shower is only big enough for one person, but he doesn’t care. He gets into the crowded space with you, wrapping his arms around your waist with his soft cock against your ass.
You clean and lather each other in your strawberry shortcake body wash and complimentary lotion before leaving the bathroom. Jungkook gets in your bed butt ass naked, so you decide you mine as well do the same.
You allow him to hold you this time, tracing your waist and the curve of your spine until you doze off.
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
The thin scarf around your neck shockingly looks amazing with your strapless dress.
It’s more natural and fashionable in a not-trying-too-hard-to-impress-your-date kind of way since it covers some skin, although you wouldn’t have to wear the damn scarf if you didn’t wake up to Jungkook next to you.
You forgot he chokes you until you’re near death so that your orgasm has a higher chance of killing you than he does. Now you have a dark fingerprint bruise on your neck and ten more on your hips.
He finally allowed you to kick him out by afternoon after demolishing another fruit bowl dessert you made him, to which you’re sure that’s not the last of him, but it’ll do for tonight. He’s the biggest cockblock, and you’d be stupid to bring your date back here if it gets far.
Unfortunately, the universe continues to voice its disdain for the split from your ex and prevents you from escaping him.
Your date, a college peer, brings up Jungkook over and over at the restaurant. Asking if you two were high school sweethearts, seeing each other, or if he needed to talk to Jungkook before taking you seriously. Like he needed a blessing from him.
Detaching Jungkook’s name from yours and yours from his would be impossible when everyone watched your relationship from beginning to end, rooted for you both. Jungkook lives in your skin everywhere you go, and you have to accept it.
The evening gets boring fast. The guy is more interested in you and your ex’s situationship than you. And constantly bringing up how gorgeous you look and that your skin is glowing, instead of any individuality questions. You think he would personally praise Jungkook if you told him he was the reason for the afterglow.
You don’t order dessert or bother to offer more of your time by declining his ride back to the other side of campus. It starts raining, too, but you decide better on going alone.
You’re waiting for an available lyft ride when you get a message, your battery beginning to drain the rest of the juice it has left.
chimmy🤍: lol ur date thinks ur into him
chimmy🤍: texted me that he thinks ur really cute and wants another date
you: 🖕🏽hell no.
you: he’s boring and jungkook would scare his ass off easily
you: not for me :(
you: just tell him I had a great time
chimmy🤍: will do 🫡
chimmy🤍: did u make it back already??
You glance around the half empty restaurant and the dark parking lot being pelted in rain. On the app, there’s no rides nearby because of the thunderstorm.
you: im gonna walk
chimmy🤍: bitch.
chimmy🤍: if u dont text ur man
chimmy🤍: i set up the perfect date for u two to angry fuck
you: we did that last night and this morning but whatever
chimmy🤍: gasp!
chimmy🤍: fucking disgusting how u cant keep ur hands to yourselves geez..
chimmy🤍: text him
You groan, but you try not to think twice about sending Jungkook your location right before your phone fades to black. You feel terrible about texting him after the way you’ve been treating him as disposable, so you wouldn’t be mad if he decides to ignore you.
It’s fine.
The rain doesn’t seem to be slowing down almost ten minutes later, and you deserve to get drenched in this date outfit.
As you go to step off the covered platform, a figure suddenly knocks into you from the street. They stop you from tripping over yourself in your heels, holding you upright.
It’s Jungkook.
Dripping wet and panting as if he’d ran a marathon.
You weren’t expecting him to come…
“What happened? Why are you crying?” He rushes over his words after getting a good look at you. “Where is he? Imma fuck him up.”
You can’t help but to giggle at Jungkook looking inside of the restaurant windows for the guy, more emotional tears stinging your eyes. You hadn’t noticed you were crying the whole time you were standing here.
“I’m okay.”
You hug him, wiping your runny nose on his wet t-shirt. Jungkook squeezes you tight for a minute, noticing you still sniffling and steps back to cradle your face.
“Then why are you crying, princess? Tell me.”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” you sigh. Pulling his palms from your cheeks and holding one of his hands. You can’t believe your feelings right now. “Let’s just go. Please?”
Jungkook looks from you to your hand and then back at you again. It’s been a while since you’ve held his hand platonically, but he instinctively grips yours back, comforting.
“Wherever you wanna go, princess. I’m right here.”
“With you,” you say.
“Okay, princess.”
Jungkook removes his jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It’s soaking, but it’s the principle that makes you gush at him being so boyfriend and so adorable.
You offer your hand again before he twines his fingers between yours, stepping out into the cold, pouring rain, walking contently through the darkness together.
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
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just-mint-to-be · 4 months
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NSFW- Ways Yandere! Graves would punish his little housewife darling
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A/N: officer my hand slipped sorry I swear I don’t have any more *trips dropping 20,000 WIPs*
Spanking
- If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Tried and true on multiple occasions, usually a few hefty claps with his bare hand are enough to have you begging for forgiveness again.
-There’s nothing more efficient at getting you to understand your wrongdoings than some quality time spent spread over his lap; Graves wishes he didn’t ever have a reason to punish you, but there’s no denying you look downright gorgeous with teary eyes and equally as red ass cheeks.
-He’ll make you count them, sometimes moving the ‘goal post’ to further your punishment.
- ‘Are you gonna be a good girl, or do I gotta add five more to be sure?’
Taking away your panties/clothes
- Refuse to wear one of the many darling little dresses or skirts he picked for you? Turn your nose up at the lingerie presented to you as though it were a suggestion not an order?
- What a waste, maybe you’ll come to appreciate his gifts when you’re left with nothing. He might be generous on your first offence, merely denying you the imagined security of thin, lacey underpants beneath your dress.
- Every-time you bend down, trying to fulfil the list of odious tasks that keeping a home entails, you feel hungry eyes inspecting your very apparent slit.
- It’s even worse when he decides you’ll go without any form of modesty for your punishment. Phil has never been one to deny himself the chance to cop a feel when passing by you even with clothes, his entitlement increasing tenfold without them.
- He might even forgo ranch work for an afternoon, choosing to sit in his big old leather armchair with a shallow glass of whiskey in one hand as he watches. He’ll have you dust low places that are already spotless, or creating false messes- anything to ensure you’re bent over before him.
- Most apparent, is when he deliberately discards something at his feet with the expectation of you picking it up by his command.
- ‘Clumsy me. Be a darlin’ and get that won’t you?’
Creampies
- Not always a punishment for any direct action, but a subtle form of discouragement for certain things.
- Say you beg him to take you for an outing, just one day away from the house and he eventually relents. You’ll don whatever frilly, powder pink nightmare and matching heels he chooses and wait patiently by the door.
- ‘Forgot some thin’ sweet pea,’ you tilt your head, oblivious excitement adorably gracing your features in a way that makes him all the more keen for what comes next.
- You’re fucked against the closest wall, relentless thrusts made possible only by the dedicated work of one hand keeping your leg and skirt flipped upward.
- With his finish seeping from within, you’re left sticky and tousled; wanting nothing more than to clean yourself out, something he strictly forbids.
- ‘You look a lil’ flustered, sure ya’ still wanna head out in public?’
- Desperate for some semblance of freedom, you nod. The next few hours are spent locking your thighs together in the hopes that when you’re strolling around no distinctive, silvery sheen trickles out.
Blowjobs/lipstick smudges
- Phillip loves to spoil you, buying you more high end makeup than you could ever dream of using. In particular, he has a penchant for red lipstick; he adores the way it enunciates the delicate, tempting shape of your lips.
- Even better however, is the literal stain it leaves on you in the wake of a little discipline.
- If you’re really sorry for whatever it is you’ve done, you’ll prove it to him on your knees.
- The cherry on top of your cherry red smudges? Making you walk around base with him, garnering the curious, confused and knowing glances of every recruit you pass.
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minhosimthings · 4 months
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Backstage Notoriety
Synopsis: Chan trying to shush you, as you try not to alert the rest of the boys about what you're doing backstage
Pairings: Bang Chan × Soloist!fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, overstimulation, Degradation (like only a little), praise, gagging kink, necklace is used as a gag, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pregnancy joke, angry sex, rough sex
A/N: ITS YO GIRL MONA BACK WITH ANOTHER SMUT YALL WOOOHOOOOO I really like this for some reason I had fun writing it. Also Chan has got me in a chokehold rn I NEED THIS MAN TO BREED ME. And yes this is me procrastinating on my ongoing wip.
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Dating a fellow idol was something you never thought you'd do in your entire life but here you were. Staring at your boyfriend dancing with the rest of his kids members and watching all his Stays with bedroom eyes. To say you were jealous was an understatement. A very great understatement, that is.
Being a soloist was a lonely job, with the one exception being that you didn't need to follow a packed schedule like other groups did. You could just sit back after your stage, and stare at everyone's outfits backstage, as you wait for your boyfriend to take you home and fuck you into oblivion. Yet as you watched your boyfriend show off his waist in a crop top your favourite colour, you couldn't help but want him to notice you. Stupid horny teenager coded feelings right?
"Haneul how much time till they finish?" You asked your manager who was packing up your things. She looked over at you and smiled. "Just another minute or so Y/N be patient you'll see him soon enough." She bent down and kissed your head "I'm going home alright? Tell Minho where I went or he'll go crazy. You'll come with Chan or should I tell a car to wait?" You shook your head at her. "I'll come with him don't worry. You should worry about Minho though he's gonna go mental when he finds out you left without him." Haneul let out a laugh and patted your shoulder before quickly walking out the door, leaving you all alone.
The sound of thunderous applause startled you, as you saw your boyfriend quickly walking down the stage, seven kids following him like penguins. The first one to enter the room was your boyfriend, suprisingly not covered in sweat and fashioning a towel round his neck. His face was not without happiness as he caught his eye on you and strode over, making adorable grabby hands.
"Baby!" he hugged you tightly, as you did everything in your power to stay mad at him, "Next time I'll make sure they arrange our shows right after one another. I can't stand not being with you for so long." "hmm" you hummed in response, not reciprocating the hug as you usually did. The rest of the members had entered the room by then and you spotted Minho frantically searching for his phone. "Haneul went home Minho." you cried at him, successfully catching his attention as he looked at you with widened eyes, "Don't worry, she's probably waiting for you."
"Oh alright." Minho said, plopping down onto the sofa, "Thanks for the message." You smiled gently at him, and turned to pick up your phone, when warm arms wrapped around your waist, making you freeze in your spot. The offer to sink into Chan's embrace was a tempting one, one that would effectively ruin your plan. "Did I do something wrong baby?" you heard Chan's voice whisper in your ear, tone akin to one he'd use for a child. You were being childish after all.
"Just tired Chan. I need to get home alright?", you briefly responded, wiggling away from his embrace. "I'll drop you off to the car." Chan responded, wrapping an arm around your waist so tightly that you couldn't protest, "I left something in my dressing room anyway so we can just get that on the way hm?" His tone worried you slightly. It was unlike the lovey-dovey one he usually used with you. Lovey? yes. Dovey? Definitely not.
The silence between you and Chan was too loud as both of you walked to Chan's dressing room, which was relatively near the exit point. His stare remained in front of him, not even a glance at you. You, on the other head, were trapped in his hold on your waist. It was tight. Too tight. The Pain kink comes in handy though right?.
"You really thought ignoring me would do anything baby?" Chan suddenly spoke up, when you reached the door to his dressing room. You shuddered as he pushed you against the door, one hand on the doorknob, the other holding your chin to him. "Chan-" "Nuh uh baby." He glared, "You're gonna pay for this."
Chan bombarded your lips with his and kissed you with every inch of pain in him. You would have melted into the kiss had it not been for Chan opening the doorknob and pushing you in.
"Wearing this cute little outfit and ignoring me." Chan mumbled in between the messy kiss, "Stupid little girl aren't you?" You gasped for air as Chan slid his fingers down your panties. You decided to give your stylist a bag of chocolates the next day, for giving you such an accessible dress.
"Ah Chan!" You shout out as Chan moves his fingers around your pussy, touching you exactly at all the spots he knew you adored. Chan slowly pulled off your underwear and threw it on the floor before pulling you into another kiss, fingers still racing across your cunt. His other hand reached up almost automatically to your hair, gripping it hard. You moaned into the kiss at his touch on your scalp as your hands quickly undid his trousers.
He’s rough. Good god, he’s fucking rough. His cock stretches you open deliciously, slamming into the deepest parts of you. The slick sounds of your dripping arousal fill the room with every violent thrust. You were sure your already short dress was about to get shorter as Chan kept such a firm grip on them, feeling the fabric twisting in between his fingers. With Chan continuing to fuck you, It’s almost impossible to keep yourself quiet at a time like this.
“J-Jesus,” you gasp, “holy fuck, Channie, y-you, fuck, you feel so fucking hot.” Your voice wavers in pitch and volume. Chan maintains a brutal pace, which you could swear he does on purpose. He lets out a gruff chuckle.
"It's Channie now is it baby?" He mocks you, "Fucking you so good you can't even speak can you?"
You let out a loud yelp when you feel his hand give your ass a hard slap. You jerk forward, shuddering on his cock. You can feel his towering frame lean over you, pulling you up by the shoulders, gathering you to his chest. He puts his fingers in your mouth, silencing your cries of lust.
You suck on his fingers, moans bubbling in your throat as Chan pistons his hips. It’s almost embarrassing how much you like the feeling of Chan using you like his personal doll.
“Babe,” Chan slows down. “As much as I love hearing what I do to you…” he gently maneuvers you, flipping you to look into your eyes. His hand tucks a piece of hair the fell onto your face behind your ear. His hand cups your cheek, the sweetness of his actions causes your mind to run wild with what kind of degenerate, devious plans he has in store for you. He reaches over to his neck and slowly unclasped the metal chain decorating it ever so wonderfully. "You're way too loud darling.”
"Open your mouth for me darling." He cooes at you as he shoves the necklace into your mouth. You wince in pain as the cold metal hits your tongue. Chan stares at you with an amused look on his face. "That's my good girl." He praises, giving a sudden thrust, which makes you widen your eyes.
You make a muffled cry for more, your soft and loud moans were music to his ears. He breathed heavily along with you as held onto your hips tightly. Skin smacking echoed in the room and you heard his soft groan which sent you coming. He groans louder as you clench around him.
Thankfully, Chan didn’t argue or get you to beg for his cock any more as he jolted his hips into you. “Always so loud aren't you darling?”, he scolded light-heartedly under his breath.
“Cha- Channie no more,” you plead with the necklace muffling your tone, tossing your head back onto the wall, hips bucking up into his despite your words. Chan growls, pushing you down by your stomach and blanketing your body with his own and pressing your knees almost up to your tits.
“You can take it, my dove, I promise,” the words come out choked, hoarse, but you wither under them nonetheless. The necklace had been laying down on the floor, having been detached from your mouth a long time ago. You can feel his cock pulsing deep inside your walls, seed almost spilling out from your entrance from his last two orgasms. You’re sure he’s overstimulated beyond belief, just like you, but he just can’t seem to stop.
“Wait, don’t cum yet; I’m so close, don’t cum”, you begged , not entirely wanting it to end just yet. Chan gasped, his mouth opening wide as his eyes did the opposite as they clenched shut as he concentrated on fucking you and not having another orgasm.
It doesn’t take long to feel the first flutterings of that eye-wateringly beautiful sensation between your legs as you quickly stammer, “I’m cumming! Fuck!”. Chan’s legs nearly gave out underneath him, hearing your sweet words.
As your pussy contracted in wet bursts around him, Chan released every drop of cum inside of his body, deep into your walls so that you could feel yourself becoming full and it beginning to drip out as it became too much. His thrusts slowed to a stop as you both slumped against the wall, bodies covered in a thin line of sweat.
"You alright honey?" He mumbled into your neck as he holds you tightly in his arms. "I'm good." You simply respond, cradling in Chan's warm muscles. Chan quickly deposits your weak figure on the divan before rushing off to find a towel and a change of clothes.
"I'm sorry Channie." You mumble, feeling your face turn red as Chan puts your shoes back on. He looks up at you with an amused expression and hums. "It's alright darling." He chuckles, "My jealous little baby." You slap his arm playfully as he gets you up slowly and walks you to the door, this time the grip on your waist being a comforting one.
"I wonder if your cum took or not." You blurt out. Chan looks at you with widened eyes before giggling. "You wouldn't really have to get used to being called mom do you? What with your seven adopted kids." "Our seven adopted kids." You correct him as he blushes and kisses you on the forehead.
"Seven kids who are probably wondering what their mom and dad have been doing backstage."
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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months
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behave
in which fem!reader REALLY wants spencer's attention while he's working
18+ (no smut but sex is talked about) warnings: mentions of sex, spencer grabs readers wrist to stop her from doing something but its not violent, reader is referred to as a girl, no use of y/n, um i think that's it WC: 870 a/n: i have damn near 40 pages of spencer WIP so im biting the bullet and posting some of it. also.. if you want a plot... babe this is not the place for you im sorry... ive never even heard of a plot actually. i dont know about rising and falling action... i dont believe in that. it sounds fake
It feels like Spencer has been at his desk for hours. 
And for hours you've been lounging on the couch, reading your book in silence so as to let him work. But you're becoming... antsy. Impatient. Every time you drop your book and stare at him, willing your white-hot gaze to draw his attention; nothing. He just keeps shuffling papers, signing, writing, reading reading reading. 
At ten, you give up.  
You make a show of slamming your book shut, sighing, slowly sitting up, stretching, standing, stretching again--when you turn your head, expecting your little performance to have at least earned a look from him; still, nothing. 
"Spence?" you ask, innocuously, as you round the couch and draw toward him carefully, slowly, on light feet. A display of faux innocence. It’s not that you intend to bother him, per se--you're just so bored. 
He hums in response, eyes still glued to his work as he searches for something among the mess of paper. 
You come to a stop in front of the mahogany desk, tracing the edge of it idly with wandering fingertips. 
"What are you looking at?" you ask, in reference to a photo he seems to now be studying intently.  
"Nothing you need to see," is his muttered response, quickly flipping the photo face down on the desk and picking up a form walled in migraine-inducing tiny black text. You watch the way he scans the paper, brow knitted, and eyes squinted, clearly not paying you very much attention. 
You move languidly around the desk, letting the wood drag against your hip the whole way, before reaching for the overturned photo--just to see what he'll do. 
Spencer catches your wrist, his grip gentle and warm but not without portent. "What did I just say, grabby?" 
Sadly, they're the most words you've gotten out of him since this afternoon. 
You sigh dramatically and drape yourself across his lap, looping your arms around his neck. To your initial satisfaction he shifts slightly to accommodate you--and then continues to look over your shoulder like he hardly notices the pretty girl on top of him. 
"When will you be done?" you purr, tracing his jaw with a finger.
"I'll be done when I'm done." 
God, he can be stubborn. 
"Can you be done any sooner than that?" 
"What do you think I'm going to say to that," comes his flat reply, still not sparing you a glance. You watch enviously as his eyes dart down the paper he's reading over your shoulder.  
"Then I'm staying right here until you're finished." 
"You can stay here if you can behave." 
You scoff, bunching the fabric on the back of his shirt in your fists. "What do you mean, if I can behave?" 
Finally, you hear Spencer set down his pen, and he leans back in his chair to regard you. His gaze finally on you is like an ice bath. You literally have to repress the urge to shiver under his evaluation; the slightly raised eyebrows, the line of his mouth a little harder than usual. His 'you know exactly what I'm talking about so don't play dumb' look. 
For a few tense seconds, you let your eyes dart between his, not wanting to break first. Unfortunately, you think that look of his could freeze saltwater.  
"Fine," you mutter, flushing when you look down at his shirt collar instead. If you're being reasonable, he probably is doing something important. You drag your gaze back up to his and see that his eyes have softened. 
"Thank you," he says, gentler, squeezing your leg before running his hand over it back and forth a few times. "I know I'm not being very fun today. When I'm done we can do whatever you want to do." 
The urge to say, 'whatever I want to do?' is strong, but you manage to bite your tongue as he reaches back over you to continue his work. Instead, you content yourself to lean against him, allowing his solidity and warmth to envelop you for some immeasurable stretch of time.  
Rain starts up, battering the windowpane and accented by deep rolls of thunder. The scratch of Spencer's pen on paper, the rustle of files, and the scent of patchouli and amber begins to lull you into a doze--a comfortable place between awake and asleep. It's the kind of comatose unconsciousness that bends and liquifies time, and you don’t even realize you fell asleep until you’re waking up. 
Spencer murmurs your name, brushing your hair carefully out of your face. "Did you fall asleep, angel?" His voice is soft, just above a whisper.  
"Mhm," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "How long has it been?" 
"A few hours," he sighs. "That file took a lot longer than it should have, I'm sorry." 
You're still bleary as you speak next; 
"The thing was sex." 
"What?" he laughs, rubbing your leg as you adjust yourself in his lap. 
"You said we could do whatever I wanted to do when you were done, and it was sex. But now I'm tired." 
"Let's get you to bed," he begins, "and revisit the sex idea in the morning. Does that work for you?" 
You smile against his shirt, eyes already fluttering closed again. 
"Mhm..." 
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monsterfuker3000 · 2 months
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You Call the Shots, Babe ༺♡༻
Hi kittens, mommy’s had a rough one and that’s why it’s been since October since I published anything lol. My now-ex boyfriend broke up with me and it thrust me head first into my man-hating era and I couldn’t write to save my life. I’m not happy with this fic but I had to publish SOMETHING bc it’s been rotting in my WIP folder forever. Enjoy, my stinkies ���
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WARNINGS: p in v sex, perv!Leon, unprotected sex, mentions of male masturbation, a lil bit of footjob action/very light CBT, Leon is a two pump chump I’m sorry, creampie as always, uhhh you degrade him and stuff but he’s Leon so he gets off to that, idk RE2R Leon strikes me as a panty thief who would get off on being told he’s a pervert so that’s what I wrote lol
Word count: 3k words of Leon being a perv
“Leon?” you called.
“Yes?”
“Why do you have my fucking panties?”
Movie night with Leon was always unnecessarily complicated. It very nearly felt like it took him hours to get settled; he needed the right snacks for the two of you, the right drinks, the right comfy clothes, the right movie. If he put much more effort into every movie night, it would start to feel like a date. Not that he’d mind that.
You, however, seemed like you would mind. He had tried like hell to hint to you that he wanted something more than friendship; brushing his hand against yours whenever he could, resting his hand at the small of your back in a manner that was much more than friendly, letting his gazes linger a bit longer than they needed to. But you? Dear, distant, unmovable you? Never once reciprocated his affections. Leon was desperate for you.
That’s why the movie nights came about; they were the closest Leon could get to a date night, and by God did he push the envelope. He’d spend every movie night with an arm around your shoulder, both of you under the same blanket. He’d behave himself, keep his hand a where they belonged, but all the while he’d have to try like hell to conceal the hard-on he’d be sporting every time. He felt pathetic, jerking off to the thought of you every night after you’d leave. That’s when he started stealing your panties.
It started out with just one pair he’d seen discarded on top of your hamper in your room, too careless to hide it before he came over. He’d snuck them into his pocket, vowing to himself they he would return them the next time he was at your place. Only he didn’t return them, and he did do it again.
He jumped at every chance to spend time at your place instead of his, sneaking another pair from you nearly every time. You had to be wondering where they kept going, but as long as his operation was still going off without a hitch, he was going to keep stealing them.
Then came the hitch.
You had come over for the aforementioned movie night, barging in after work without knocking like you owned the place, not that Leon minded.
“Lee!” You whined, “It’s cold out! How come you have to live so far from where I work?” You continued your lament as you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. Leon poked his head out from the doorway, pointing to his bedroom door.
“Go grab one of my hoodies or something if you’re cold, I’m making popcorn, so help yourself!” He busied himself with the popcorn once again as he heard you turn and walk toward his room, thanking him as you walked away.
“Leon?” you called.
“Yes?”
“Why do you have my fucking panties?”
His heart immediately dropped into his stomach, remembering just how many pairs of your used panties were tucked away in his drawer. The volume and variety would have been impressive if he didn’t feel downright creepy.
He slunk towards his room like a child expecting to be scolded, and his face reddened when he stepped into the doorway. You had your arms crossed, one of his favorite pairs of your panties dangling from one finger
It was a little baby-pink number; cotton, his favorite, with delicate lace around waistband that he couldn’t get enough of. Memories flashed through his head of just what perverted things he’d done with the scraps of cloth spilling out of the drawer you’d apparently yanked open.
He loved to jerk off with them wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head falling back, sometimes with another pair pressed to his nose to inhale your scent. The worst thing he did, however, embarrassed even him; he loved to jerk off directly into the crotch of your panties, imagining that the reason they were covered in his cum was because it had spilled out of you. This was his favorite of all of his dirty fantasies about you, and imagining that the panties in his hand were soiled because you’d finally let him fuck you would often make him have to touch himself a second time.
“I saw these sticking out of your drawer, and I thought they looked familiar,” you said flatly.
He forced himself to return to the present at your words, fidgeting a bit to try to hide the half-chub that refused to go down even in the face of such profound shame. You cocked an eyebrow, looking all too relaxed given the situation the two of you were in.
“I asked you a question, Leon,” you reminded him. “Why do you have so many pairs of my panties? And I know theyre mine, don’t try to tell me they aren’t,’ you added, effectively crushing to death the only chance at redemption he thought he might have.
“Um, well. . .” He trailed off immediately, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the panties swinging from your hand, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I don’t- I. . . It’s beacuse-“
“I know why you have them,” you cut him off, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours before the embarrassment made him duck away again. “It’s because youre a fucking pervert.”
His heart dropped; this was it. You were disgusted with him, you were going to leave his apartment and never come back, you were going to tell everyone you knew that he was a disgusting panty thief, never to be trusted. However, there was no hiding the full-blown hard-on he was now sporting, thanks to the insult. His face reddened more, if that was even possible. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, and the scowl you’d been wearing slowly turned into a smirk.
“I’m so sorry, I-“ he began, but you cut him off yet again.
“You’re not sorry you did it,” you salked toward him. “You’re sorry you got caught.’ You were right on the money, as usual, but before Leon could even try to get a word in edgewise, you spoke again. “I think you need to be punished.”
What?
His confusion must have been clear on his face, because you continued.
“What, cat got your tongue?” You teased. “Take your pants off, Leon,” you said. It very obviously wasnt a request.
This felt like a trap to Leon, but he figured things couldn’t get any worse, and so help him he was going to do whatever you asked of him in the hopes it might smooth things over. He cleared his throat, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as you began to slowly circle around him. He felt very much like a cornered animal.
“O-okay,” he finally spoke, albeit haltingly as he slowly pulled at the tie on his pants.
“Tell me, Lee, what have you been doing with all the panties you’ve been stealing, hm? Be specific. And hurry up with your pants, I don’t like waiting when im already impatient.”
God, what were you going to do to him? He tried like hell not to very his hopes up, but he hoped to God this was going to end well for him.
“W-well,” he began, sliding his pants off as he spoke, nervous but still eager to find out what was going to happen next. “I mean, I jack off with them. . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to be any more forthcoming than that. He chanced a look at your face again, hoping what little he told you was sufficient, but of course not.
“Tell me more, Lee. And look at me when you do it,” you added. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes on you while he spoke.
“I wrap them around. . . Around my cock and I, well, I jack off with them, ‘nd then I. . .” He trailed off yet again, cheeks burning bright red, afraid to try your patience but far too embarrassed to get it all out at once. He took a deep breath. “And I like to. . . To finish in the crotch,’ he finally finished.
“Why?” You asked simply. He wasnt prepared to answer that one. He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something, turning away. “Come again?” You asked. He huffed out a breath and looked back up at you, tears very nearly welling up in his eyes from the humiliation but still hard as a rock.
“I said I like to imagine theyre filled with my cum because you put them back on after I fucked you!” He nearly yelled, frustrated with the interrogation. A few embarrassed tears he hadn’t even noticed finally spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, knowing he had no right to cry.
“I figured,” you replied flatly. How were you staying so calm about this? You’d just found out your best friend had been stealing your panties for the past few months! Leon opened his mouth to ask you just this, but you moved lighting-quick, stuffing the panties into his open mouth and covering it with your hand, swatting away hips hands when he instinctively reached up to push you away.
Holy shit. You just stuffed your panties in his mouth.
“Kneel,” you told him, and his knees were on the floor without a second’s hesitation, placing his hands down on the tops of his thighs. You walked around him, adding the instruction to be careful not to spit them out, and he could hear you once again digging around in the drawer behind him. you gasped behind him, reaching out from behind him to range another pair inches from his nose before snatching it back.
“Leon, these are my favorite!” You cried indignantly. “I’ve been looking for them forever, you pervert,’ you added. God, there was that word again. It absolutely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his boxers, but it did anyway. “Hands behind your back,” you instructed him, and he obeyed, wondering what you had in mind. His eyes widened when he felt you twist that second pair of panties around his wrists, essentially improvising a pair of handcuffs. You walked around him again to stand in front of him, and he looked up at you expectantly, tears long-dried. “Try not to rip those, I like them,” you said simply, before sitting on his bed and pressing your socked foot to his crotch without another warning.
He cried out as best he could with a mouthful of your panties, nearly doubling over from the sensation. You were pressing harder than should have been pleasurable, but between how wound up you had him and how long he’d wanted you to touch his cock, he was still in heaven. As you slid your foot up his cock, he wished with everything in him that he didn’t still have his boxers on; that he could feel the friction and not just the pressure, delicious as it was. You leaned back, surveying your work, all the while still working your foot up and down his cock.
“You like that, Leon?” You teased, propped up on your hands. Of course he liked that. Of course you knew he liked that, but how could you not tease him like this?
Your curled your toes gently over the head of his cock, squeezing a bit with your toes. He was sensitive, so fucking sensitive, and he bucked up into your touch with another muffled cry.
“Ah-ah,” you admonished him. “I didn’t say you could move.”
Leon whined again at this, worried you were going to stop touching him, but far too afraid of that prospect to do anything about it.
Instead of withdrawing your foot Ike he expected, you pressed the ball of your foot against his cock, hard. You meant this as a punishment, of course, but poor Leon was so very on edge that he came in his boxers, shaking as he dampened the crotch of them along with your foot.
“Leon. . .” You sighed with a deep frown, one that would have made his heart clench had all his blood not been allocated elsewhere. “You really are a pervert,” you scolded. God, there was that word again. Leon knew at this point that this was all a game, but he couldn’t help the way that word made him feel. Pathetic. Dirty. Unbelievably horny.
You stood, looming over him as he looked up at you with wide eyes.
“I was worried about the rest of my plans for you, but it looks like youre still hard,” you remarked, nudging his overly sensitive cock with your foot and pulling a surprised yelp from him. To his shock, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them off along with your panties all in one go. The way his eyes flicked over to the panties you discarded to the side wasnt lost on you.
“Don’t be greedy, Leon. You have more than enough,” you teased. You knelt on the ground in front of him, pushing against his chest and knocking him off balance to sit flat on the floor with his back to his dresser, hands still bound behind him with your panties. You straddled him, hovering over his cock so close that he could feel the heat and wetness of your pussy. He didn’t dare move after what happened last time.
You decided to grant him just a little relief, using your hand to slide his cock shallowly through your folds, Upand down, up and down. His head hit the dresser behind him with a thunk, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat. Then finally, fucking finally, you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.
He tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and they nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight in front of him. His cock had completely disappeared inside of you, your clit resting against his pelvis. He was mesmerized for just a moment before you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, earning another muffled shout from him as his head hit the dresser again.
You began a brutal pace right off the bat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your moans; yours were completely unbridled, his were still dampened by the panties he absolutely wasnt spitting out.
You reached up to place a hand against his cheek, patting it softly before pulling your hand back and delivering an earnest slap. It took him by surprise and he bucked into you again, but you seemed to let that transgression slide. You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to look at you.
“Fucking disgusting, Leon. I should spit in your face for stealing and doing such nasty shit with my things,” you said through gritted teeth, hips still rolling against him. God, he was going to cum way too soon again. Sweat rolled down the side of his face with the effort he was exerting trying to hold off his orgasm.
“‘M gonna cum,” you moaned, and it was like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “You wanna cum in me Leon? You wanna fill me up with your cum? Of course you do, you fucking sicko,” and Leon knew he had just seconds.
Finally, with a last, particularly strong roll of your hips, you came. As your pussy pulsed around him, Leon came as well, filling you with his cum and thrusting up into you in earnest now, though he was too fucked-out to notice and correct himself.
As soon as your breathing evened a bit, you stood abruptly, the friction against Leon’s softening cock startling him along with the overstimulation. You hooked the panties in his mouth with your finger to yank them out and he choked a bit, his mouth dry. He was speechless as you shook out the slightly damp panties and slid them on with a snap of the waistband.
You bent over in front of him, showing him that the thin gusset of the panties was wet enough with his spit that it had gone slightly translucent. He could see your pussy lips through the wet fabric, and nearly passed out when he watched the wet patch spread as his cum began to spill out of you and onto the panties, just like he’d jacked off to so many times. If he wasn’t so mindful of not wanting to rip the panties that were still wrapped around his wrists, he probably would have pulled you toward him to fill you up with even more of his cum.
You walked around behind him to untangle him and free his arms. As soon as you did though, his hair stood on end remembering what he’d been caught with earlier. He whirled around, still on his knees to look up at you with big, pleading blue eyes.
“I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s gross that I was taking your panties-“
“Leon,” you interrupted him. “Why do you think my used panties were always on the top of my hamper? No girl would leave her panties visible like that if she knows someone is coming over. I wanted you to find them.” You turned and walked out toward the kitchen before turning back to him and seeing his jaw practically on the ground again. “You might wanna check on your popcorn, Lee.”
I’m on twelve Vicodins smoking on Scooby-Doo dick
329 notes · View notes
badnoahmens · 5 months
Text
You’re Mine
Noah Sebastian x Reader
3.6k words.
A/N: jealous Noah has me feeling strong feelings. Smutty shit so 18+ only. Wrote this instead of working on higher priority WIPs.
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You twist the handle for the hot water off, steam being the only thing that filled the small shower around you now. After the long day you had, a nice, hot shower was the only thing that seemed to help take the edge off. With a sigh, you step from the warmth surrounding you, reaching for the towel and swiftly tucking in the side to preserve your modesty.
As you exit from the bathroom, you swipe meaninglessly through your phone, scrolling through photos posted from friends and the odd targeted advertisement. With a small ding a new notification graces the top of your screen. An old friend of yours, Patrick, that you had kept in touch with throughout the years, had recently reached out and was sending memes he thought you would like. Seeing as the two of you had similar jobs, they were mostly focused on that. Innocent enough, but it wasn’t worth looking at now.
Without taking much notice of your surroundings, you walk between the bathroom and into the kitchen in search of a snack to quell your cravings. Noah was leaning on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, elbows propping up with one hand curled into a fist under his chin, the other scrolling through something on his phone. His eyes were slightly glazed over, a side effect of the doom scrolling that he often fell into. You side-eye him as you walk past, pulling an unimpressed face as you responsibly reach for an apple.
The bite you take makes a loud crunch that is the only sound that breaks the silence in the room. The chewing that follows is equally as loud and disturbing, echoing as an irritating wet, mushy slurp. You kept your eyes on Noah as you took a second loud bite from the apple, knowing full well he loathes the sound.
Another scroll with his thumb flashes bright colours and fast-moving videos on his phone, still unaware of your presence.
A third bite of the apple, this one finally earning a reaction. His head slowly turns, pivoting on the hand that he still has balancing under his chin, his eyes landing on you as you take a fourth, menacingly slow and obnoxiously loud bite.
And then it is a stare-down. You refuse to let up, keeping a blank expression on your face as you grind down, meticulously masticating the organic surgery fruit. Noah squinted his eyes, knowing full well that it was your intention to bother him. He clicks his phone so the screen locks, and places it gently on the counter.
“Alright! That’s it!” he finally calls as you lift the apple, almost gone now, to your mouth dramatically slowly for another bite, although you never get to take it. Noah stands and strides over to you, snatching the apple from your hands, tossing it into the bin that sat in the corner of the room. It was immediately after that you were tossed over his shoulder, flailing in a panic. He turned on his heels and speed-walks to the bedroom. You bounced slightly as the pace he held wasn’t one that was all that graceful. He was laughing maniacally at your feeble attempts to squirm from his grasp. You would never tell him that you weren’t actually trying.
With a jostle and a thud, he dumps you on your back, the soft mattress bouncing below you. You fight playfully, trying your best to catch Noah’s fast and nimble hands as they darted in and out, tickling your sides. His smile is palpable, his hair wavering from side to side as he adjusts his plan of attack every time you twist and turn under him. He has his knees pinned by your sides, grey sweats and a black t-shirt lingering over you as his colourful, decorated arms and neck looked ever so enticing. You couldn't help but notice the way that his pants twitched as he continued to hold you pinned down on the bed.
In a sudden change of heart, his hands stop, grasping your wrists and holding them above your head in one of his hands. He drops his face so that it is an inch from yours. His breath wafted over your face and you smiled, glancing between his intense gaze and watching the way he licked his lips.
“How was your shower? Did it fix your bad day?” He asked. His head tilted to the side slightly. The question sounded innocent enough, right?
“I’m still a little tense,” you reply. And you were honest with your response. It was a long day. When you arrived home, your bags were quickly dumped on the floor by the door haphazardly, a huff leaving you in an attempt to exult some of the emotion that had pent up all day. Working with kids was difficult on a normal day, but there must have been something in the air today for them to be as wild as they were. Noah knew you were in a less-than-ideal mood. Bless his soul, he did try and help, but the best thing you could do was to wash the day away. Now, even after a shower, the aftereffects of a bad day were still lingering despite being only towel-clad underneath your boyfriend.
“Turn over” he motions with his head, releasing your hands from his vice grip allowing you to lay on your stomach instead. In the midst of this motion, he tweaks his fingers under the top of where your towel sat, tugging at the tuck that held it secure. You had a sharp inhale as the cold air hit your bare skin, still warm and slightly damp from your shower.
You heard Noah hum behind you and you glance over your shoulder back at him, but he doesn't see your face. Instead, his eyes are trailing down your body, pupils dilating when he sets his sight on your ass.
Noah was an ass man for sure. And he was obsessed with yours. He would always be so handsy with you, the odd playful slap here and there, tucking his hand into your back pocket to cop a feel when he probably shouldn't be, even his favourite sex positions were the ones where it was front and centre in his view.
You tucked your hands under your chin, still twisting so that you could see Noah in your peripherals. His hands started to glide over your back, down your sides, following the sweet contours of your body. Noah let out a low growl from deep within, but you’re certain he wasn’t aware of half the noises he was making; the deep breaths, slight gasps and quiet moans.
Using all of his restraint, Noah tears his gaze from your ass and lifts his body so that he is kneeling over you, hands now placed on your shoulders. He could still feel the tension in the knots that had built up over time, forming firm ridges across your shoulders and back. Tattooed digits started to knead into the tender muscles twisting under your skin. The pressure mixed with the slow circles made you close your eyes and let out an involuntary moan. Noah hummed and smiled to himself, knowing the power this had over you. You were such a sucker for massages, and could never deny having Noah;s hands all over your body.
He continued to try his best to break down the clusters of tension, twisting and rubbing at the bundles that had gathered over a long time. Your head would roll from one side to the other, allowing Noah to work into different areas and use different pressures to make some kind of difference. Noah would be lying if he said he didn’t love it too. Having his hands all over you? Making you feel good? Knowing full well that this often led to something far more exciting? Yes please.
It was at this moment, as you were about to be lost to Noah’s touch and oblivious to the world, when your phone dinged again. Lifting it up to your face, another notification from your old friend lit up the phone that was strewn carelessly on the bed next to you.
Noah’s hands stopped.
“Who’s Patrick’?” Noah asks, the slighted hint annoyance in this voice. You readjusted your position so you could see Noah’s face, his expression blank. You tried to wriggle so you could twist from under him, but his legs tensed and squeezed you so you were stuck, completely at his mercy.
“He’s an old friend. Has a similar job. Been sending me some memes about work. He sent me one earlier but I didn’t respond so he’s probably sending another” you answer.
“Sending you memes, huh? He does this often?” Noah’s leg muscles were still tense beside you as he sat back on his haunches, warm calloused hands now retreating from your body.
“I mean, a little bit. He reached out last week after he started a new job with someone I used to know.” You pause, Noah’s demeanour was changing before your very eyes. Now, he seemed a little standoffish.
Noah makes a “Hmff” noise in response.
“Noah?” He doesn’t respond. “Are you jealous?”
No response again.
“Noah” you call once more.
“You’re seriously moody because I have been talking to an old friend?” You prop your head up on your hands in an effort to get a better view of Noah. Although you could see his face, he had turned to look across the room beyond you, and he seemed perplexed.
“Fine. Don’t talk to me. That's totally fine” you say sarcastically, shifting underneath him to slip out from his legs still perched beside you. Before you could free yourself entirely, Noah leaves. He stands and crosses the room, disappearing into your walk-in robe. Sounds of shuffling items then follows.
You twist and sit up, pulling the towel back around you. Your gaze was down at trying to hitch the material back into a safe tuck as you ignored the kerfuffle Noah was making when he walked back into the room.
Just as you are satisfied with the towel adjustments, Noah’s hands are on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. He hovers over you again, but now his eyes were dark and his motions were very intentional.
You go to speak, but Noah shakes his head and stands again, holding a firm grip on your hips so that you swivel to a new angle, diagonal across the bed, and spinning so that you land back onto your stomach, just like before.
Your eyes glance up in front of you and you see what the commotion Noah was making before. A full body-length mirror was now sat up leaning against the wall, allowing for your reflection to stare right back at you. You look up at Noah through your eyelashes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you, trying to figure out the expression Noah has spread all over his face. That is, until it hits. It’s a look of desire.
He proceeds to crawl over you, leaning forward on closed fists so that they land on either side of your head before rising to be on his knees. Illustrated hands that contrast with the towel hitch around your hips, yanking them up fast and forcefully so that your knees fall under you, perching your ass high.
You couldn’t help but have a smirk plastered on your face; Noah on the other hand, still doing his best to hold a poker face. His gaze wanders down, allowing his hands to rub possessively over your cheeks under the fuzzy material. They dance lightly over your hips, then begin the trace lines on the insides of your thighs. You let out a high-pitched whimper as an automatic response. You had no control over what influence Noah had on your body, let alone when you were like this.
Noah’s eyes didn’t leave your face, so you teasingly leant back, pressing your skin closer to him. Your breath started to quicken, hitching in your throat when his nimble fingers flicked at the towel causing it to slip down, exposing your body once again. Noah struggled to keep his composure as he took the sights, expression faltering slightly and his hands moved to your folds immediately feeling the warm wetness on his fingertips.
Your eyes slipped closed, relishing in the lightest of touches that Noah was gracing you with, that was until one hand came down with a hard slap on your ass, and the fingers teasing you were gone.
Your eyes shoot open and your body jolts in reaction, except Noah clamps his hands on your hips and pulls you back closer to him.
“Keep them open” he growls, and you watch the way his mouth twitches as his fingers return to your folds, one hand grabbing a handful of the tender skin of your ass cheek perched up in his direction. You lock eyes in the mirror. “I want you to see who’s you are,” he continued.
Slowly, one finger glides into your pussy. It might not be enough, but it’s something. You rock back in the slightest way, and Noah’s grip tightens on your ass. He gives you a warning glance, before his eyes move to his digit disappearing into your folds. It curls up inside you, like he was beckoning you to come closer. The caressing on your inside walls slowly pumps out, and then in again. A rhythm started to build and he added a second finger.
Starting to feel more full, your eyes begin to close, but you remember the demands before they fully shut. Instead, you peer through half-closed slits and admire the way Noah’s hips were starting to grind against you. There was a mound growing in his pants, grazing against your inner thigh, telling you that he is loving this.
“Does that feel good?” He murmurs from behind you, and his eyes are back on yours in the mirror. You nod and hum in response, sliding a hand back behind you to reach for Noah. He takes your hand, grasps it firmly, and places it on your back. It’s feels unnatural, but not unformatabme. Your fingers intertwine as acts almost like an anchor. For you? For Noah? You’re not sure, maybe even both of you.
“Say my name” he demands.
“N….” You start, and he flicks his wrist, stopping any ability to control your voice. Instead, a moan escapes.
“What was that?” He whispers, twisting his fingers again in the same motion.
“Nooaaahhhhh…” the end of his name escapes your mouth as a sigh, as though it could have very well been your last breath.
Noah’s fingers disappear from inside you, slipping out and bringing with it some of the wetness that is all but dripping from your pussy.
“What do you want?” He asks. But you can’t speak. The emptiness turns into an ache. All you can do is stare at him in the mirror and watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, letting drips of your own liquids run down his chin. His eyes are blown wide and dark with desire, and he notices the way your legs twitch closer when his tongue graces the space between his two fingers, curling up to clean them of any remnants of you on them.
“I- I want you” you are able to stammer out between the heavy breaths.
He grins a devilish grin and shifts his weight, struggling to jam down his sweats to his thighs with one hand, ignoring his own wet patch of precum that had soaked through the front of them. His hand then lands on the outside of your thigh, in the crease where it meets your hip, as he steadies himself. You can feel the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and then he pauses.
His dark eyes are locked in on yours, looking through his eyelashes, and moving his eyes, slowly rocks his hips forward. The pressure is achingly slow. He is teasing you. Letting you know that he is in control here.
Your free hand grasps at fbe sheets below you, trying in some way to let out the tension that is building. The other hand still intertwined with Noah’s behind you tightens in grip. He gives his own squeeze back, almost as a reassurance. Your mouth falls open and eyebrows twist, anticipation causing you to be entirely out of control if your own body movements. You feel him inside, yet it’s the lack of rhythmic motion that is missing.
Your hips buck forward involuntarily, something deep within you just pleading for more friction between you and Noah, and he picks up on it. He begins to drag his cock out of you, placing his free hand on the inside of your thigh, tapping it with grace as though to say ‘open more’. You do as you’re told, shifting the weight to one leg and the other swings out to make a wide gap between your legs. Noah doesn’t hesitate after that.
His shaft is hammering back into you. In and out like a jackhammer. The fingers of his free hand now sitting dangerously and teasingly close to the tight ring of muscle that sat between your asscheecks. You look at his face in the mirror; a sheen of sweat building over his face after only a minute of fucking, his brows furrowed as he stares intently at the work he is doing on your behind. Nails dig into the tender flesh of your derriere as Noah tilts his head back.
You feel the white hot glow begin to burn inside you. Noah is not taking any chances tonight, his hand leaving yours on your back to tangle with the mess of hair on your head. It was already knotted, but Noah intertwined his fingers with it, tugging with little force to bring your chin up.
Your legs were shaking at this point, and it could have been from the pleasure or the absolute hammering they were receiving. There was a growl from Noah which drowned out the hum of the tv from the other room, but you couldn’t tell what he actually said. The skin on skin slapping sounding even sloppier by the second. He was getting close, he was starting to fumble over his rhythm, but he could see that you just weren’t as close to your release as he was.
His hand leaves the tangle of your messy hair, keeping his eye contact in the mirror, and lands on the underside of your belly. You can feel him pull towards him, another silent instruction. Pushing on your arms, you felt weak. They shivered underneath you and you rose to your elbows, then up on your palms.
“More. Against me” Noah hums through a tight jaw. The pounding from behind you was starting to slow and you knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer.
With the right shift of weight, you right yourself on your knees, feeling the sweaty, warm sensation of Noah’s heaving body on your back. His arm wrapped around your chest, settling with an open palm grasping needily at your breast. He grabbed, twisted and pinched at your nipple, caressing what he could as he tried his best to focus on bringing you closer. And boy, was it working.
The new position gave you a full frontal view of what state you were in. The mirror was a portal to a world of pleasure and sex, and the only ones who lived there were you and Noah. Nothing else around you mattered. Nothing else around you even existed in this moment.
Your eyes clamp shut as the build of your orgasm was teetering at the edge, threatening to unfurl and throw sensations through your body that only Noah could achieve. There was a tightening around your neck, and as your eyes open, he land on Noah’s is tense stare from behind you.
“I said keep them open” he demanded. “I want you to watch you cum. Watch what I can do to you.”
All you can do is nod. He was never this dominant, but he must have been really ticked off. He had a point to prove, and he was delaying his own paradise just to make it know.
“You’re mine.”
“I’m yours” you whisper.
The hammering of his cock inside you, slamming deep inside of you, paired with the hand that had just dropped to your clit was the magic that brought your orgasm to its peak. There was a flood of heat that washed through you. If it wasn’t for Noah’s arms, you would have collapsed right there in front of him. Your body jerked involuntarily as Noah let you ride out the electricity. His eyes were on your face, watching as you cried out with his name, hands desperately grabbing at his arm twisted around you.
His muscles flexed as he held you up, knowing that you needed him to stay this close, but he couldn’t help but give up the fight of holding back his own orgasm. With a wet jerk of his hips, he slipped from you just in time to let the streams of hot white cum leave him, landing on the lower part of your back. You fall forward, landing with your arms by your face, and let Noah release onto you. You watch as his own eyes close, failing to follow his own rules, and then collapses beside you.
It was minutes before either of you even got your breaths back into a regular pattern. You watch Noah lay on his back, his palm resting on his forehead, and a sex-drunk smile on his face. He turns to look at you, letting out a low chuckle.
“I’d like to see Patrick’s memes beat that.”
694 notes · View notes
lotus-n-l0ve · 1 year
Text
𝐘/𝐍-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐧-𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐧?
— Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano x F!Reader
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☯ SYNOPSIS : A text conversation cause a misunderstanding to Mikey.
☯ WARNINGS : Cheating, sick!Mikey, dumb!Mikey, 800 words.
☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS: Just a small blurb that came to mind. Originally I was going to make small imagines with multiple characters but then decided to make just this one. If you like the it then please leave a like, comment and reblong. Follow me for more like this. Enjoy ♡
𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍
𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
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Mikey was in the bedroom already in the bed waiting for you finish your night routine. Then you could cuddle him to sleep. This was his favourite time of the day on top of that Mikey was sick today so he was extra clingy.
Your phone on the nightstand lit up with a incoming message grabbing Mikey's attention but he ignored it the first time, paying no mind to it. But then phone kept buzzing with one after another incoming messages. Mikey got curious as to who was messaging you that much.
Mikey sat up on the bed with his back resting on the headboard. He grabbed the phone and unlocked it.
Ken-chin?
He saw the messages were from Draken which was wired because you and Draken barely talk. Mikey tapped on the notification and the conversation opened Mikey scrolled through them —
Ken : Baby is Mikey Okay?
Ken : Can you come now?
Ken : Babe?
Ken : Baby?
Ken : Darling?
Babe? Baby? Darling?
Mikey's heart dropped. You would not. No you can't. You can't cheat on him. Right?
Mikey scrolled up a little more to your last text with Draken which seemed to happen when he was in the bedroom and you were out in the living room with Emma.
Ken : Baby the bed feels so empty without you.
Ken : Come back here.
Y/N : You know I can't.
Y/N : Mikey is sick and I need to take care of him.
Ken : Do you really have to do that?
Ken : Come on he is not a kid anymore.
Y/N : Ken you know I want to be with you more than anywhere else.
Y/N : I have to go now. Mikey is calling.
Y/N : Bye bye 😚😚😚😚
Ken : Bye babe. Will miss you.
Mikey's eyes filled with water as fat tears kept rolling down his cheek. Loud sobbs kept erupting from his chest. He loves you and needs you like he needs oxygen and you do this. Cheat on him with his very bestfriend?
Y/N-chan and Ken-Chin?
You put back the night cream container on the counter. This was your last step of night skin care. You looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time before going back in the bedroom.
Just as you were about to leave the bathroom a scream shook up the whole house, "Y/N-CHAAAAAAN?"
You quickly ran outside to the bedroom, "Mikey what happened?"
You gasp when saw your boyfriend crying his eyes out with loud sobbs and hiccups. You rush to sit in front of him on the bed.
"What happened?" You palm his warm cheeks, wipping away the tears.
Mikey looks at like a puppy who got kicked by his owner and that hurt your heart. Mikey was a lively person always laughing and smiling. Even if he was feeling down he would put on this carefree persona and keep his real emotions locked away in his heart.
"Y/N-chan." Mikey stammered between sobbs, "Do you not love me anymore? What did I do wrong?"
You frowned at his words, "What are saying?"
"You and, you and Ken-Chin are cheating on me behind my back. Was my love not enough?" Mikey choked on his words.
"What?" Now you were even more confused than ever.
"What is this?" Mikey shoved the phone in your face. You gave him a confused glance before looking down at the phone screen. As you read through the texts your temperature highed and a eye twitched.
You gave his head a smack to knock some sense into his thick skull, "Manjiro you dumbass. This is not my phone but Emma's. Our phone probably got switched."
Mikey.exe stopped working.
"Oh!"
The smack seemed have worked because the next moment a big ass smile appeared on his dumb face, "You are not cheating on me with Ken-Chin?"
"No."
"And you love me?"
"Yes but now I'm doubting if I should."
"Oh! Come on. You love me. You can't live without me." Mikey wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in a hug and making you nose slam on his hard chest.
"Ow. Manjiro you dumbass." You punch his side, which made little to no impact on him, before you also hug him back.
One thing you realised was 'sick Mikey is dumb mikey.' because if Mikey was okay then things would have been much more chaotic and Draken would have been six feet under the ground. Doesn't matter how much Mikey loves or cares for him.
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© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.
All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.
2K notes · View notes
dollfaceksj · 5 months
Note
Just saw your wips…. crack drabble series for Yoongi? Count me in pls!!!!
hope u like it 😘😘😘 tell me what u think!
ps: unlike toapp, this will have WEEKLY updates instead of daily updates. 🫶🏽 MASTERLIST POST to can’t afford love coming shortly after this.
can’t afford love | myg (m) #1
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⋆ TAGLIST ⋆
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⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢
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“come on,” you sigh as the child in front of you stubbornly crosses his arms and looks away
you sit back and stare at him for a while, his shoe in your hand that he refuses to let you put on. “jun, we’re going to be late. miss jiyeong isn’t gonna be happy.”
he still refuses to even acknowledge your presence, staring at the wall like the little brat he is
he looks so much like his damn father.
stubborn little shit.
he’s mad because he wanted to eat his breakfast on his own
ended up spilling on the shirt he insisted on wearing today
which you had to change OBVIOUSLY
you wish you could argue with kids cause why are they DUMB.
he’s upset because
jun absolutely loves daycare
he loves spending time with his friends
and as a mother it pains you immensely
it pains you so fucking much
to realize that your child
is lonely.
“okay, jun. that means no more spongebob or daycare for a whole week,” you sigh as you rise to your feet and drop his shoes, pretending to head out the door without him
he cries out to make you stop in your tracks, inevitably ending his silent treatment towards you
you turn around to face him and place your hands on your hips. “are you gonna listen to mommy now or not?”
soft tears prick in his eyes as he nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand
“come here,” you coo as you squat and welcome him into your arms, kissing the top of his head. “you really wanted to leave me while you’re mad at me? you don’t want to break mommy’s heart, right?”
he shakes his head as he wipes his other eye, face still buried in the crook of your neck
every other monday, you bring jun to daycare and his father picks him up there at the end of the day. the following monday, it’s your turn to pick him up from daycare and keep him for the rest of the week until you have to drop him off again and not see him for the coming week
it’s the easiest way of doing week-week with your ex husband without having to see him.
your ex-husband…
min yoongi.
it’s been a little over a year since your divorce
you’ve seen him a few times since and it was only ever in regards to jun
well.. about 3 weeks following your divorce you’d have sex with him a few times but thats it. its been a year since
you’re bitter about the divorce but you can’t be too bitter
not when it was your idea to divorce to begin with
what else were you supposed to do? you were at home, taking care of everything and your husband was buried in work, gone all the time
such a typical fucking marriage
that you did not need nor want
the months leading up to your divorce were the worst, eventually the reason that made you snap
it was almost like living with a roommate who you barely saw
you weren’t worried about infidelity
no that wasn’t it
it was just the worry of your husband slowly falling out of love with you and you escaping before that theory could become reality
he was surprised when you slammed the divorce papers down onto his desk but he didn’t fight you
he didn’t protest, he didn’t pry, he didn’t do anything. asked how you two were going to handle jun and it came down to week-week.
now with a calm jun in your arms, you slowly shove the shoes onto his little feet before grabbing your purse and heading out the door of your apartment with your son in your arms
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like clockwork, it’s the next monday and time for you to pick up jun from daycare
it’s only noon so you’ve got time to clean around the house before having to pick jun up
until your doorbell rings
hm?
you weren’t expecting anyone today
you wrap the thin bathrobe around your naked (bra and underwear) body, having just come out the shower
you cautiously open the door to be met
with
your
ex husband
holding your son
holy shit
what the fuck
you haven’t seen this man in months
sent him a few texts here and there
but its been so long since u’ve last seen him
why is your heart
stuttering
in its rhythm
absolutely just
pounding
against your ribcage
your sons head leaning on yoongi’s shoulder, diaper butt perked up on his forearm
yoongi’s hair has grown a lot, ends tickling his shoulders and neck
white dress shirt and black slacks
he uhhh
looks pretty good.
too fucking good.
a frown creeps onto your brows at the sight in front of you. “what’s going on?”
“daycare called me, said he’d been vomiting. he’s burning up,” he replies, not protesting when your worried face lunges at your baby and take him from your exhusband’s arms
“why the hell didn’t they call me? they know he’s supposed to be with me this week.” your son is sound asleep in your arms, your hand gently rubbing his back as you walk further into your apartment
yoongi stays in the entrance but closes the door behind him to keep the cold out
“i don’t know. they just called me and i went to go pick him up.”
ugh he’s so nonchalant with everything
you glance over your shoulder at him. you start, “why didn’t you call me then?”
at this, he frowns. “i brought him here cause i didn’t want to worry you over the phone. is there a problem?”
of course he wants to make this into a bigger deal than it is.
of fucking course
“for fucks sake,” you mumble as you shake your head and lie your son down on the couch, surrounding him with pillows and blankets
“update me on his condition. i have to go back to work,” yoongi says as he opens the front door
“yeah, don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” you mutter under your breath as you fetch your thermometer to take your son’s temperature
yoongi scoffs but doesn’t say anything else before he leaves
but then
you realize that
yoongi could
potentially
fix
the small problem
you’ve been struggling with
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your son has been sick the past few days, holed up at home and complaining about not seeing his friends on his birthday
he had a whole birthday outfit planned and snacks that he was going to share with everyone which he can’t do now
“what do you want for your birthday, baby?” you ask as you stroke his head
“daddy,” is all he says
“you’ll celebrate your birthday with daddy next week. what do you want to do with mommy?”
“i want daddy and mommy.” he continues to play with his airplanes as you blink at him. he’s never demanded you two be together so you have no idea how to even process this
“daddy is busy tonight, baby.” you stroke his cheek
he drops his airplane. “call daddy.”
“but–”
“i want daddy.”
the exasperated sigh that leaves you is almost painful as you reach for your phone
jun is just staring at you with his arms crossed and a frown on his little brows
having to dial his number on a wednesday at 5pm
ugh
how embarrassing
he picks up after the 2nd ring and you put it on speaker
“hello?”
“daddy.”
“oh, what’s up, buddy? my birthday boy. you feeling any better?”
“yesh.”
“that’s good to hear, daddy was worried about you, you know.”
“yesh.”
“daddy’s gonna do lots of fun things with you next week. are you excited?”
“yesh.”
“okay, that’s good, baby. i’ll see you soon, okay?”
“daddy, wait.”
“hm?”
“daddy come eat with me and mommy.”
?!???
“jun,” you mumble in a warning tone
“huh?”
fuck sake.
“i want daddy.”
“i don’t think mommy would like that, buddy. we’ll do something fun next week.”
“no, i want it for birthday, daddy. mommy also want.”
you shoot a stern frown at jun but he simply doesn’t care
“can you give mommy the phone, jun?”
“mommy hears you.”
“y/n?”
you sigh quietly as you rub your eyebrows.
“yeah?”
“what’s going on?”
“i’m not sure where this is coming from but jun wants to have dinner with us.”
it’s quiet on the other end. “tonight?”
“yes, tonight, yoongi. it’s his birthday and he’s been holed up for days with no one but me.”
“i know, i know.” a soft sigh leaves his lips. “i’ll be there at 7.”
your heart almost skips a beat
“see you then,” you say as you hang up
fuck.
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you get ready
you don’t even know why you’re wearing makeup and have your hair done wearing that dress that dress that yoongi likes so much
you’re doing it for your son’s birthday of course
and not because you’ve been contemplating asking yoongi a specific question
as you smooth out your dress and help a very nicely dressed jun sit at the table—that is filled with all of your best home made foods
the door rings
and your heart continues to pound out of your chest
you slowly walk up to the door and open it up, meeting eyes with your exhusband
clad in a simple black suit and his hair nicely styled with one side tucked behind his ear, he’s holding a bag and a bouquet of roses
your eyes shift to the roses with a quirk in your brow
“these are for jun,” he mumbles as he impatiently waits for you to step aside which you eventually do
he kicks his shoes off and hands you the bouquet before jun hops off his seat and runs up to his father
yoongi drops the plastic bag he’s holding onto the floor and hunches over to catch jun, raising him up and holding him in his arms. “who’s turning 3 years old today?”
“me?” jun replies, uncertain
“of course, you, silly! not daddy, right? are you crazy? is jun crazy?” he jokes as he pokes juns belly and nips at the crook of his neck, making jun laugh and giggle as he tries to resist
it warms your heart to see jun so happy
even if he was a shit fuckin husband
he’s always been an exceptional father
“come on, food’s gonna get cold,” you say as you walk up to the table, sitting in your usual spot
yoongi and jun join you shortly after and you have a nice dinner
together
as a family
:(
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sitting at the table with a bottle of wine screwed open
jun on the floor in front of the tv with the new big toy he got from his father
you glance at yoongi who wipes his mouth with a napkin before shifting his gaze toward you
“i’ve missed your food,” he comments as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “thanks. it was really good.”
you nod. “thanks for coming.”
he shakes his head. “whatever jun wants, jun gets.”
you chuckle quietly and take another sip from your wine. you’ve been building the courage to ask yoongi that one question for almost an hour now
“yoongi,” you start as you place your glass back down on the table in front of you
he tilts his head to the side, an indicator that he hears you loud and clear
“you know,” you say as you take a deep breath. “jun aches to go to daycare. because he’s lonely.”
yoongi simply blinks at you, seemingly wondering where you’re going with this
silence
it’s so quiet for several moments, only the distant sounds of jun playing with his toys and spongebob playing on your tv reach your ears
“he’s lonely, yoongi,” you reiterate
he frowns this time, titling his head for a second in utter confusion
“i don’t understand what you want from me. i do my best to make time for him, you know th–”
“i’m not talking about me or you.”
you stay quiet after that, hoping he’ll figure it out on his own
he doesn’t though, just places his arms on the table, leaning further over it. “what are you getting at, y/n?”
the usage of your name sends a current of electricity up your spine
heats up the back of your neck, cheeks and your ears
“what i’m trying to say is…” you sigh as you bring your hand up to scratch the back of your head, looking away for a few moments
you gather your courage
make eyecontact with him
and part your lips to say;
“would you be willing to give him a sibling?”
to be continued.
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416 notes · View notes
flordeamatista · 1 year
Text
𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀
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pairing: ceo!silverfox!ari levinson x personal assistant!reader
concept:. One kiss will ignite all this, which will light my darkest fire for your body
word count: 3.6k
warnings: silver fox Ari, bossy boss, business trip, hot tub love time, fireplace love time, p -in- v, a tiny bit of man—ipulation edging, fing- ering, o-ra-l (f receiving), tiny wine body painting, sweet kisses, pu-ssy slap-ping, soft power imbalance, dumb-ification, praise, Sir k-ink, dirty talk, spanking, nickname ──(Princess, Sweetheart)
a/n: @navybrat817 When I was dancing with my other wips, I remember when you dropped this sweet silverfox Ari, leaving me daydreaming for months. I am grateful for you dropping him off so I can write him a beautiful story.
@lookiamtrying @/writing-for-marvel @sunshinebuckybarnes, thank you for letting me rant for months about him and brainstorm ideas.
lovely betas: @lunarbuck and @writing-for-marvel
the cute gif/line divider/moodboard made by me
thank you @jen-with-a-pen for making the silverfox ari image on the second moodboard.
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Masterlist
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As time passes, each note rests on each string.
Your eyes are captivated by the clouds you pass. One sky, one trip, and countless cloud formations.
The clouds reminded you how far away you were from your real destination, and you could only remember how you got on his plane.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?” you asked as you entered his office. He nodded and motioned for you to take a seat. “I have some important news to share with you,” he said. “We’ve just been awarded a large contract from a new client. There is a crucial business event next week that you must attend with me." Ari keeps typing on his computer without looking at you.
"I can't go," you say.  
Ari stops typing and looks up. "Why not?" he demands.
"I have my holiday, and I will be out of the country for a while."
“That is part of your job. You are expected to attend. You can pack up your things at the end of the day if you are unable to attend this business trip."
You look desperate in his eyes as you say, "My vacation was approved months ago." 
He pauses for a moment, then says, "I'm sorry, but this business trip is mandatory. You will have to postpone your vacation."
“I have given you access to my schedule. Do you mean you didn't read what was coming up? ” he asks in a dead tone. He is trying to point out that he had been clear with his scheduling and that it was your responsibility to be aware of what was coming up and plan accordingly.
As you leave Ari's office, you feel frustrated. You feel your heart sink as you think about all the time and money you’ve already spent preparing. You have been looking forward to this vacation for months, and now it seems like you will have to postpone it indefinitely.
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Ari Levinson's name has become so familiar that nobody can escape it. He is a top influencer in the business world and is often a keynote speaker at industry events. His advice and insights are sought after by some of the most successful companies around the world. His reach is unparalleled, and he is an inspiration to many. 
From small startups to large corporations, Ari Levinson has been able to make an impact on nearly every sector. His success story is one that continues to be shared and celebrated as he continues to break boundaries in the business world. It would make many human bodies swoon to gaze into his lustful blue eyes. He is a true testament to the power of ambition and hard work.
Ari is a role model for entrepreneurs and business professionals who are looking to make a difference. His story is an inspiration to many who aspire to greatness. 
Ari Levinson is an icon.
However, you see the rude, uncaring, sexy heartless boss.
He often puts profits before people and shows zero regard for those he works with. His attitude contrasts starkly with his public image.
You and the hot silver fox icon are stuck in Switzerland in a cabin alone. This was supposed to be your vacation since he told you that you had to join him. You were supposed to be at the beach enjoying the sun with a drink in your hand in the Bahamas, not sitting next to a fireplace freezing your behind off.
You turn to him and ask why he dragged you here.
A mischievous glint appears in his eye as he tells you that success in this world comes from working until you can earn money while you sleep. "And I intend to show you just how to do that," he says with a smirk.
In the end, you will never be able to recall the wisps of a dream because he took a weekend full of sun and pleasure from you, and now you are flying into the cold.
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He stands tall, proud of his body, gazing out the window, letting the cold winter air fill his lungs. His muscles tense up as he takes a deep breath in, his eyes focused on the horizon. He is ready to take on whatever the night might bring.
His eyes are shut tight as he savors the warmth of the fire. His feet are planted firmly on the ground as his hands reach for the stars. He is in his own world as he basks in the glory of the fire.
He takes another deep breath and turns back to the fireplace, determined to make it up to you. He adds a few more logs to the fire, watching the orange and yellow flames flicker against the night sky. He knows that he would do anything to make you happy, and he hopes that you will forgive him. He smiles, content in the knowledge that at least he tried.
Little did you know, the silver fox had an ulterior motive for bringing you to Switzerland. 
A smile spreads across his face as he watches you relaxing in a hot tub, washing away the stress of your long day. Clearly, he pushed you to the limit and saw your not-so-subtle eye rolls during the flight. He knows he has been too harsh on you, but he wants to ensure you succeed with him.
He lingers around your body tonight as he writes your name next to his.
Taking a deep breath, you let yourself sink deeper into the warm water, feeling your muscles relax with every step. If you can’t be in the sun, this is the closest you can get to feeling warm all over your body. The hot water embraces you with comforting warmth like a hug from a friend. You stay in the hot tub for as long as you can, allowing yourself to forget the stress of the day and simply enjoy the peace. Your boss has always made sure you don’t have a social life beyond being his personal assistant.
You have been trying to find a respite from the stress of the man's presence, and the soothing sound of the bubbling jets and the gentle hum of the motor are just what you need. The sound of his voice, however, is enough to break the illusion and bring you back to reality.
"Mr. Levinson, I don’t start until tomorrow morning. I am enjoying my free time. I need to relax, please," you say softly and finally put down your foot. It‘s time for you to relax after he stole your time off.
"Sweetheart, I apologize if I appeared harsh to you earlier this week, but you need to understand."
“I know! But let me relax tonight," you plead.
You sigh and open your eyes and stare at him with shock.
His desire for your body will reveal where his electric current resides.
When he opens the white robe's string with his strong hands, your heart races. He pulls it open, revealing his exquisite figure. You can't help but gasp in surprise. He suppresses a smile and nods. 
"Would you like some company ?” His sculpted arms flex as he reaches for the wine, and for a moment, you can’t take your eyes off him. He smirks, knowing his effect on you. He pours one glass of wine. You feel electricity between you, and you can tell he feels it too. 
You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. 
You can't help but stare, unable to take your eyes off him. 
You feel an overwhelming urge to touch him, to have him touch you. 
You feel a tingling sensation throughout your body as he stands in front of you, exposing himself to you.
As he dips into the hot tub, you can see the water wavering around him and towards you. He slowly submerges himself in the water, letting out a sigh of relief as his tension and stress slowly melt away. The steam rises slowly around him, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. 
You can't let your attraction to your boss get in the way of your job. But as he leans in closer, you feel yourself getting lost in his piercing gaze. Suddenly, the room feels too small and too hot. You try to focus on anything but him - the painting on the wall, the clock ticking away - but it's no use. Your mind keeps drifting back to him and how badly you want to give in to this forbidden passion.
Your breath comes out nervously as he floats closer to you. 
"Wine?” Taking a sip of his wine, he closes the distance.
"I don't have a glass," you mumble nervously as he invades your space.
You hold your breath as he draws closer, hovering his lips over you. You feel your heart racing as you close your eyes and wait, anticipating a kiss. He pulls away, leaving you disappointed and flustered. 
Then he nods at you to drink from his wine glass and slowly places it near your lips. You hesitantly sip, feeling the wine's warmth spread through your body. 
Drops of wine drip from your lips, and he touches your neck with his finger to stop them from falling further. "Drink more, Princess," he urges. He leans in again, trailing kisses down your neck and sending shivers down your spine. 
You feel nervous and excited as your heart races for a kiss. You take another sip of wine to steady yourself, noticing how his fierce azure eyes darken with desire.
He reaches for the bottle and pours more wine over your body. His hands caress your skin as he moves the bottle along, letting the cool liquid slide down your skin. His lips follow the path of the wine, leaving you trembling in anticipation.
One kiss will ignite all this, which will light my darkest fire for your body
He leans in and captures your lips in a passionate kiss.
The taste of wine on his lips is intoxicating as he takes another sip of you. 
When his lips touch yours, a wave of passion washes over you. You feel the warmth of his breath. You get lost in the moment, the world around you fading away. As the wine lingers on your tongue, it mixes with the taste of him. He deepens the kiss, feeling his arms wrap around you as he pulls you closer. The heat between you is palpable and electric, making every nerve in your body come alive.
He smiles and whispers in your ear "Let's make tonight one to remember" You can feel a shiver down your spine as you nod. 
Your new sweet obsession is his warmth, his smile your lust, his kisses your obsession 
"I know you're a good girl; you're going to do everything I say, aren't you?" he breathes deeply over your exposed neck. You nod, unable to form any words. 
A smile spreads across his face as he lowers his hands under the water and covers your pussy. "Princess, use your words." 
You let out a whimper, "Yes, Sir." He chuckles, pleased with your response, and kisses your neck again. His hands explore further as his grip tightens around you.
“My girl," he murmurs softly. "Do you know how hot you are? How insane you drive me? I can barely contain myself. I want you so badly," he whispers in your ear. 
His lips move down your neck, and his hands travel all over your body, exploring and caressing your curves. 
The words he whispers to you stir something in you as his lust rages inside.
"You have such a slutty little mouth," he murmurs against your ear, holding you still with one hand against your throat and the other under the hot water rubbing against your pussy. "I'm sure you're tight as hell. I'm looking forward to hearing the sounds you make as you stretch around my dick. Princess, I promise to let you feel every inch of my cock"
Against his fingers, you grind, your eyes closing as you're enthralled by the kisses he leaves across your jaw and neck.
You feel him slide his thumb across your skin before sweeping it across your clit. As he moves his finger gently inside you, you can feel the movement of the water.
The sensation of his hands touching you, and watching his face as he does so, is intoxicating. You want more of it. He moves his fingers in circles inside you, sending pleasure waves through your body. But he stops when you explode, teasing you. More of him, whatever he can do, is what you need.
It's more of his filthy words and thick fingers.
Put his passion for you into words through his touch
The air blows on your pussy while he holds onto your thighs. You feel the cool air of the night on your skin as you try to focus on your boss' words. 
It never occurred to you that you would be in this situation. You are lying on the floor next to the fireplace, naked in front of your boss, and the firelight enlightens the room. You were left to find comfort in the heat radiating from the floor, the only warmth you had after your swimsuit was carelessly discarded.
As you try to piece together the events leading up to this moment, your boss leans over and whispers against your pussy. 
He kisses you there, a slow sweep with his tongue from bottom to top, ending with sucking your clit between his lips. You grip the rug cover end in your fists and try not to grind your pussy toward his face. 
There's something about the way his tongue feels so freaking warm and soft. Then there's the way the scruff on his beard feels against it. It's lightly abrasive, and you're overwhelmed by the mix of sensations. You moan as you move closer, wanting to get close as possible. 
"My Princess has a wet pussy, doesn't she? Want me to play with it? Stick my fingers in it? Maybe later, she can welcome my dick?" Using the tip of his finger, he runs it around your pussy, then slaps it and puts you on edge. “You're so sensitive." His voice echoes in the room, satisfied that you're affected by him.
You moan. "Sir, You're teasing me."
He chuckles and leans in closer, his breath tickling your pussy. "I'm not teasing. I'm just trying to make you feel good." 
You hold your breath and scrunch your eyes shut as he exhales and laughs. "You can relax, Princess." He leans closer, his breath tickling your thighs. "It's just me." He pulls away, a smirk on his face. As he bites softly on the sides of your thighs, his gaze drifts to your pussy. "It's going to be a long night," he says softly.
Your hands clench in his salty pepper hair, and you shift your hips, intoxicated by his mouth on you.
I felt a deep sense of pleasure flowing with each kiss of lustful attention.
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It is as if your soft sounds, your delicate moans, pull him deeper inside, just like the swell and the throb in his cock.
He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He had to have you, all of you. The way your body moved and responded to his touch drove him wild with desire. He wanted to explore every inch of your skin, taste every part of you. Your innocence only made him want you more, to be the one who initiates you into a world of pleasure that only he can provide. As he plunges deeper inside you, he feels like he is finally complete.
"Fuck, this slutty pussy is begging for my cock," he says, slapping your thighs while your muscles clench around him, teasing you.
He grabs your hand and guides it over his body - smooth, warm, and inviting. His eyes are locked on yours, and you can feel his desire radiating from him. You can't help but feel a wave of pleasure wash over you.
He smiles despite the tension near his eyes, as though waiting for your response. "Tell me how this feels. How does my cock feel inside of you?" You bite your lip and moan softly. 
He slides his hips back and forth, pushing deeper and deeper into you.
You can feel his hardness pulsing and stretching you, and your pleasure builds with every thrust. "I feel like you're breaking me, but I'm full, hot, and - so alive, Ari. I need more, please." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's enough to make him shiver with desire. He leans down to capture her lips again, deepening your connection and losing himself in the sensations you bring out in him.
He slides his hips back and forth, pushing deeper and deeper into you. You moan in pleasure as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. He pulls out and then thrusts back in, pushing you over the edge as you reach your climax.
You moan into his mouth as he begins to thrust, your body arching and trembling with each stroke as he moves faster and faster. His strong hands grip your hips tightly as he drives into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He pulls away and whispers in your ear, “Do you know why I hired you, Princess.” 
You look into his eyes, your body still shaking from the pleasure he had brought you. You gasp and whisper back, “No, why did you hire me?”
He smiles and pulls you close, kissing you deeply. “Because you are the most talented, and I always hire the best.”
The smug grin on his face lights up as he kisses your neck and shoulder, his fingers now playing with your nipple. His pace slows as your body begins to revive itself. The tip of his nose trails up your neck and shoulder as he marks your skin. "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were special. Your pussy had to be special to take my cock." His voice is hoarse and filled with desire, and his breathing heavy as he whispers these words into the air, emphasizing the power of his feelings for you.
"You're doing so well for your CEO, Sweetheart," he whispers, his lips against yours. "We have all week to explore every aspect of your performance." 
You run a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Ari - I?" A second orgasm hits you before you can even speak, and your whole body tenses against him. 
You are his, so he owns everything about you 
As your climax approaches, Ari whispers, "You're mine." His hands press against your skin sending shivers down your spine. He leans in and kisses you again. "Mine," he repeats when the first spasm of pleasure makes you shudder and throw your head back. 
All that is audible are his grunts as he takes control of your body with each thrust. 
It was Ari's dirty secret that there was no conference; instead, he will keep himself warm by being inside of you for the entire week.
He knows you won't mind it.
This weekend is a winter storm, and he knows you'll need him to soothe your body and make you moan. This weekend, Ari is ready to wrap himself around you and provide the warmth and comfort you desperately crave; he will be your source of comfort in the midst of the storm. His skin is soft and inviting, begging you to let him into your heart for a moment of pleasure together.
As you hold each other, the world outside freezes away - it's just the two of you in this heat.
Your body ached, curved, and was drenched. It embraced him.
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biancadjarin · 11 months
Text
🌾a Roll in the Hay🌾
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pairing : perv!em x innocent!countrygirl!reader
warnings : graphic sex, p-in-v, breeding kink (sorta?)
a/n : hoo boy ok so I’ve been thinking about country girl reader and Eddie for a while, went a little crazy on this one. It’s kinda long, but I hope you enjoy! I have a lot of WIPs and ideas for different types of Eddie’s but it really helps when you guys comment/like/reblog so I know what you want to read more of.🧡
MASTERLIST HERE
18+ !!!
You hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel outside the barn, your hands finishing up a braid in your horse’s mane. You feel the excited butterflies flutter awake in your tummy, a smile breaking across your face.
“There’s my pretty little baby.” Eddie coos as he wraps his arms around your waist, breathing in your sweet scent deeply. You’re so fuckin’ cute and innocent. In your sweet little blue and white gingham dress, a little bow tied between your boobs. And you never wear a bra. Fuck does Eddie love that. He swept his eyes down your frame, your soft thighs leading to the smooth skin of your calves, frilly little socks peeking out of the top of your boots.
He holds out a tiny bouquet of wildflowers he picked on his walk from his van to here. Tiny white and yellow star-lily’s, a baby pink prairie rose, a little bundle of baby’s breath. He’s always doing little sweet things to make you smile.
You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a tight hug. “Teddy Bear!” You squeak, nicknaming him that after he won you a little blue bear at the carnival. He squeezes the jiggly skin of your asscheeks in his big, calloused hands and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in a week. It’s only been about 18 hours. He spins while he’s holding you, making you giggle and get dizzy. “Put me down, Teddy!” You say as more giggles bubble out of your throat.
This has been going on for a few weeks, after you met Eddie and his friends at the Hawkins carnival, you two couldn’t be separated. He kissed you at the top of the ferris wheel, telling you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever met. And he meant it.
“Why have I never seen you around before?” He’d asked, lips leaving wet kisses along your jaw. You giggle into his hair, the feeling of his big hands holding your hips, one of his hands sliding your legs over his thigh.
“I live an hour outside of this town. On a farm.” You reply breathlessly. He pulled back, his big brown eyes looking like a sad puppy’s. “An hour?” He sounded disappointed. He twirls your hair around a finger, his other hand playing with the hem of your tiny Levi’s shorts.
You nod at him, waiting for him to tell you that’s too far away for him to bother. He shrugs, “Guess I’m about to put a lot of miles on my van.” He says, pulling you into his chest, leather jacket arm closing around your shoulder, your head pressed against his shirt, his heart beating fast and the rumble of his voice in your ear. “I’m going to come see you so much, you’ll get sick of me.”
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So Eddie drops you down, still holding you close, his tight jeans and black sweater making him look extra cozy.
“Just missed you so much, babygirl. I hate when we’re apart.” He cupped your cheek and you smiled softly, leaning into his palm like a kitten being pet. “I missed you too Daddy.” That’s your favorite nickname for Eddie. His too. It sends a jolt right to his cock every time.
“So what do we want to do today?” Eddie asks, lacing his fingers with yours, swinging your hands gently. You two have gone to dinners, movies, concerts, taken long car rides. Anything to spend time together. But today, you have other plans.
“Mmm… I have an idea…” you sway nervously on your heels. “But I wanna show you something first.”
Eddie’s eyebrows raise curiously, nodding softly for you to continue. You take a deep breath, “okay. well I went to the starcourt mall last week and bought something for you.” “For me? Baby, you know you don’t have to buy me things.” He starts to chastise you.
“I think you’ll like this gift, Teddy Bear.” You push him back gently, telling him to sit on a hay bale. You lift the skirt of your dress up to your waist, revealing the lingerie you bought.
Eddie releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes go wide as he looks toward the opening of the barn, making sure no one can see you two. You giggle, “no one’s home, daddy, don’t worry. s’just me and you.”
Eddie’s brain short circuits as he drinks you in. His soft innocent little bunny, your sun-kissed skin, covered in peach fuzz and goosebumps. A sheer pink lace thong covers your smooth core, little flowers, leaves and strawberries embroidered in the fabric. A garter cinches at your waist, thin ribbons circling around your thighs. Silky pink bows hanging off your hips.
“Wow baby, fuck.” “You like it?” You ask, peeking down. “Like it? I’m losing my mind over it.” He says, hands coming out to pull you towards him. You rest your hands on his shoulders as he traces his fingertips over the ribbons, so dainty and small in his hands.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Or anyone.” He says, looking up at you. The sun setting outside the barn is sending golden amber beams in through the door and Eddie’s caramel colored eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.
“What are you thinking about, daddy?” You ask, sweet as peach pie. “Shit,” he takes a deep breath, pulling your tummy close to his face, his lips kissing any bit of skin they can reach. “I don’t know if I should say what I’m thinking about.” He laughs.
“Are you thinking about fucking me?” You ask nonchalantly. He looks up at you, hands gripping your waist. “You can’t just say stuff like that, babygirl. You trying to kill me?” You giggle at the look on his face. “No, Eddie, I’m serious.” You say, shaking his shoulders softly and wiggling your hips to emphasize your point. Eddie watches as your hips and thighs recoil at the movement, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold himself back and be a gentleman.
“But I thought you wanted to wait until we’re married?” He asks, sliding back on the hay bale to pull you into his lap. You look off to the side, clearly conflicted with what you were raised to believe and what you really want.
Eddie is a perv but he’s also so in love with you, it makes his stomach ache. He would never want to push you to do anything you didn’t want to do but to be honest, this whole ‘waiting until marriage’ thing has been kind of a bitch. He’s gotten used to rubbing your clothed pussy against his boner for a release, feeling guilty about it every time. But he needs to get off. And you make him so horny.
You whispering “Well maybe we can do… other things.” is all the ammo Eddie needs. He pulls your dress off over your shoulders, watching as your round perky boobs bounce back once the fabric is gone. He groans as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyelids hooded as he palms and squeezes your boobs. He lets each fingertip graze over your nipples as you let your head fall back, tingles all over your body. He pinches your hard nipples a little too roughly, a loud moan escaping your throat.
He smiles slowly, “Oh, don’t tell me you liked that. Don’t tell me that because I won’t be able to control myself.” You nod, “Felt good, daddy.” You whimper. His eyes roll back in his head as he takes your nipple in his mouth, his tongue sucking and laving over it while he tweaks your other one. He switches back and forth between them until they’re nice and wet, his lips glimmering with saliva. You rake your nails through his hair, scratching gently at the nape of his neck.
“I feel tingly down there again, Eddie. Remember how I told you last time?” Oh he remembers. Almost had to pull his dick out and stroke it in front of you when you told him. You had been making out, your little hips wiggling, your pussy getting drenched. Eddie loves the fact that he can get you so turned on. He loves that he’s the one who gets to introduce you to all this stuff. He wanted to touch you that day but held himself back. But he’s done holding back.
He pulls a flannel blanket off the top of the hay and lays it out onto the dirty barn floor. He instructs you to lay down, while he unclasps your garter belt and slips your panties down your legs. He sniffs them taking a slow, deep breath, making you giggle and blush before he slips them in his back pocket.
You feel totally bare in front of him, legs spread wide open for him to settle in between. He crouches down, eyes hooded and mouth hanging open as he takes in the beautiful flower between your legs. Pussy lips all pink and puffy, little nub of your clit sticking out under it’s hood just begging for attention. Your tiny fluttering hole is leaking clear, milky fluid that has his mouth watering, he licks his lips to stop from drooling.
He lets his fingers dance through your folds, gathering all your slick. You tremble at his fingers, thighs starting to come together. “Oh none of that baby,” he says pushing your thighs down with his palms. “so sensitive aren’t you?” he asks before landing a little spank to your clit. You moan loudly, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing hard.
Eddie’s in awe of you, so perfect and pure laying open for him. He gets down on his stomach and hooks his forearms under your thighs, guiding your ankles over his shoulders. “Gonna help you get nice and open for me, ok baby? Gonna get you nice and ready.” You bite your lip and nod, eyes closing as his lips trail little wet kisses up your inner thigh.
He spreads open your lips and spits directly on your cunt, watching it drip down and mix with your juices. His mouth attaches to your clit while he carefully, slowly slips his middle finger into your tight hole. His thick finger curls upwards, finding that special spot deep inside you.
You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer to you and moaning his name. He smiles against your pussy, peeking his head up to admire your fucked out face and tell you how sweet you taste.
He goes back to licking and sucking at your clit sloppily, his wrist working faster to fuck his finger in and out of you. He pulls his finger out to dip the tip of his tongue inside you, so warm and tight around his pink muscle. “Daddy, feels so good, need your finger again.” He dips his first and middle fingers in this time, seeing how much you can take.
“Fuck baby, your pussy’s practically pulling in my fingers.” He groans. He flips his hand so his palm is up and he starts pistoning his fingers in and out of you. Your legs start to shake and he holds them down, fingers squeezing at the flesh of your thighs.
You cry out his name, a tense spasm feeling starting deep within. His thumb starts to strum fast circles on your clit, “c’mon baby. show me you’re a good girl. know you can do it.” He says, out of breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, all sound fading away as your first orgasm comes crashing over you, each wave of pleasure more intense than the last. You cry out, repeating Eddie’s name as you gush onto his hand.
“Fuuuuck babygirl, that’s it. Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.” He says as you come down from your high, catching your breath. “Oh my god, daddy.” you say, exhausted smile on your face.
Eddie palms at his hard length through his jeans, if he doesn’t stop neglecting it soon, he’s going to lose his mind. He leans over you, kissing you deeply, tongue sliding over yours. You run your fingers up his chest under his shirt, helping him pull it off. He pushes his hips into yours, the rough fabric of his jeans scratching at your soft skin. “I need to know how it feels to be inside you baby, just for a minute. I promise I won’t put more than just the tip in. Please.” He begs you, his hands already unzipping his jeans, unbuckling his belt. “Just for a minute?” You clarify. “Cause you know I’m not on the pill, Teddy Bear.”
He growls, “Just a quick minute baby,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “I promise, I just need to feel you wrapped around me.” You nod at him, sweet little smile on your lips. He shimmies down his pants and boxers, just to his thighs.
He shudders as he reaches down to grab his cock, giving it a few tugs as he kisses your neck and whispers a thank you in your ear. Your eyes wander down to look at it. “It’s pretty like you, daddy. Pink like your lips.” You giggle. He smiles, kissing you softly as his weight comes down on you. He looks down between your bodies, letting the mushroom head push through your slick folds. “Gonna be a little bit of a stretch, bunny. But it’ll feel better soon.” He says before pushing his cock all the way in to the hilt. You hold back a moan, focusing on when it’s going to stop hurting.
Eddie’s mind goes blank. Being inside you is more addicting than he thought it would be. He slowly pulls all the way out before sliding back in, just as deeply as before. He lets out a whimper as his face gets nuzzled into the crook of your neck, one hand on your hip, the other holding your cheek.
Your gummy walls hug him tight, like you were made for him. He lets his hips start to hump in and out of you, never fully pulling out, just enough to feel his balls slap against your ass. He keeps going and going and going, whimpering and moaning your name telling you how good you feel.
The painful stretching feeling is gone and all that’s left is pleasure, Eddie’s big thick cock filling you up just right, so much better than his fingers, which you didn’t think was possible.
Eddie’s hands grab behind your lower back, hugging you close to him as he fucks up into you. “So fucking tight baby, never gonna let this pussy go. Gonna make you mine forever.” He grunts as he fucks you hard and deep.
He’s starting to sweat, mumbling curses and praises to you. It feels so good you don’t want it to stop but you start to get worried. He’ll stop before it goes too far you think. His hips pump faster into you, wet sounds and skin on skin slaps echoing through the large barn. “Can’t pull out-can’t. Feels too good.” He chokes out. You whimper, hands pushing his chest, little “no”s leaving your mouth as another orgasm creeps up on you.
His movements get faster and sloppier, short broken moans leaving his mouth as his eyes screw shut, his forehead coming down to meet yours. You open your mouth as a silent moan comes from deep within you, coming at the same time as him. Thick ropes of his cum shoot inside you, his hips flush to yours as he pumps every last bit of his seed into you with a shudder.
You look at him angrily, “Eddie!” “What?” He says, laughing a bit at how cute you sound when you’re angry. “You said only for a minute!” “I’m sorry, it felt too good. Been waiting so long for that.” “You lied to me.” You said, eyes starting to water. He tuts at you, smile leaving his face. “No, no, no bunny, I tried to pull out, I really did. I’m sorry.”
A fat tear rolls down your cheek, “You didn’t try! Now what am I going to do? What if-what if-” you choke out through sobs. “It’ll be fine baby. You’re not pregnant. And if you are, we’ll be ok. All three of us.” You look at him with your big wet eyes, starting to relax and breathe normally again and Eddie smiles softly. He doesn’t regret what he did because he’d do it again. He meant what he said. He’ll make you his forever.
“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course. Whatever happens, I’ll always be here. No matter what.” He says, thumb swiping away the trail of tears from your cheeks. He kisses you softly, “I love you, Bunny.” You smile, “I love you too, Eddie.”
.
.
.
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