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monzabee · 1 month

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partition - lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: smut!! sex in a car, unprotected sex (because when have i written something with condoms lol), pwp, cringey ass nickname (blame beyoncé), manhandling, took me a long time to write it so it doesn’t make sense most part, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a passion project for me and you have no idea how happy i am with the way it turned out. There’s only one slight issue and it is that i wanted lewis to call the reader something other than peaches, but it is in the song, therefore please if you don’t like it blame the mother, aka beyoncé. Also, i was very unsure of whether i wanted to drag it out, or leave it as it is, so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It took you forty five minutes to get ready – Lewis knows this because he’s been keeping time on his phone since the moment you’ve went into the bedroom side of your hotel room to get ready for the party he’s taking you to. You’ve always like to joke that he takes longer getting ready whenever the two of you have to go somewhere, but now that he is staring the timer on his phone, maybe he should use it as an evidence that you’re, in fact, wrong the next time you tease him about it. Not that he actually would do that, he is a gentleman, after all.

He’s just about to call out to you to hurry up when you beat him to it, “Baby, I need help, please!”

The nickname manages to bring the smallest of smiles to his face as he, without shouting anything back in response, gets up from his place on the couch and makes his way towards the bedroom. And that’s when his eyes land on you, in front of the full-sized mirror struggling to zip up your dress. In just a few more steps he’s right behind you, his fingers itching to dance against the smooth skin of your back. “I thought you were going to wear the suit you brought, Peaches,” his voice comes off muffled as he presses a few kisses to the expose skin on your shoulder.

“I forgot to bring the shirt that goes with it,” your voice comes off shaky as you feel his lips drag on your skin, and you can hear his soft chuckle. Craning your neck to give him a small smile, you join in his laughter, “Zip me?” With a yielding kiss, Lewis wordlessly grabs the small zipper between his fingers, and when the moves the zipper, it makes you shriek out another laugh, “Up, Lewis, zip me up please!”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling the zipper upward with a swift motion. The dress seamlessly hugs your figure, and he makes a show of checking you out from the mirror in front of you before meeting your eyes. “There you go, all zipped up,” Lewis announces triumphantly, ignoring your disapproving headshake, giving you a gentle pat on the back. You turn around, facing him with a grateful smile, and he can't resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. The connection between your lips is brief but warm.

“You like my dress?” You ask him and his enthusiastic nod makes your smile widen in satisfaction, “You don’t think it’s too short?”

Instead of answering your question with words, instead Lewis tsks, letting his dissatisfaction with your question known. He gently takes one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours and prompts you to spin around to give him a better look of your dress. He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand still firmly intertwined with yours, and presses a kiss on your shoulder right where the strap of your dress meets your skin. “Wear any dress you want, Peaches, Miles and I can handle anyone who gives you trouble for it.”

Chucking at his protective, yet playful, response, you pat his arm around your middle with your free hand, “Speaking of the devil, we should probably get going if we don’t want him to kill us both for being late.” Lewis makes a sound of contest, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer to himself. “Lu,” you let out a faux-exasperated sigh, “there is being late, and fashionably late, and I’m afraid we are way past the latter.

“Oh, darling,” you hear his breathy voice whisper against your skin as he places a couple of open mouthed kisses onto your exposed skin, “maybe we should stay back, hm? I can show you just how much I like your dress.” With one of his hands splayed on your stomach and his lips greeting your skin ever so often, you gasp when his lips find that one sweet spot he knows that makes your knees week. “Imagine how much fun we can have on our own, here, in our room.”

Throwing your head back to rest on his chest, a breathy chuckle falls from your lips, but you give him a stern look. “As much as I would love to stay back with you, we promised all of our friends we’ll be there.” As you rise up to your toes to give him a soft peck on the lips, you manage to break free from his arms, leaving him with a perpetual pout on his face. “When we get back, Mister Hamilton, you can do whatever you want to me.”

With your offer, the look on his face changes from a pout to a smirk. “Is that a promise, Peaches?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling,” you emphasise the word with an exaggerated version of his accent. “It’s a fact,” you return his look with a small smirk on your own as you add, “sir.”

Needless to say, the walk down to the lobby to get into your car is full of tension between the two of you. It’s not like Lewis can’t hold himself back, because he can. He has proven under many circumstances that he can withhold sex from you if he decides to do that. The most recent incident was when he caught you lurking around the Red Bull garage during the last race you’ve attended, which ended with you quite literally having to beg him to fuck you after a week of Lewis not even touching you. The walk down to the lobby is filled with stolen touches and knowing glances, with him trying to get you to kiss him every minute, not caring whether the people around you can hear him or not.

You give him a sideway look when the receptionist tells you that your limo for the night is waiting for you. “A limo?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him for response.

He simply shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to mumble his response into your ear, “Miles was in charge of the car,” with his fingers giving your waist a firm squeeze, he manages to earn a silent shriek from you, “I’m sure we could do with the extra space, darling.”

“Behave, Lu.” You chastise him, but the corner of your mouth upturns nonetheless and you let Lewis guide you towards the car waiting for you.

Because he is the perfect gentleman he opens your door and helps you into the limo, pressing a lingering kiss on your hand before joining you. The inside of the limo is darker than you expected, but the city lights of Paris do a good enough job of illuminating the car. The condensation on the limo’s windows has your attention and Lewis watches and you trailing your finger along the glass, tracing the line a raindrop left behind. He contemplates, for a second, whether being jealous over a raindrop for commanding your attention could be considered weird or not, but he decides that he doesn’t really care.

He places a hand on your thigh, his touch is both reassuring and possessive, but when you turn your head towards him to look at him, the way he smiles at you and his thumb caresses your knee is incredibly sweet. He is a duality in himself, Lewis is. And you enjoy the way city lights illuminate his face, his smile soft as he leans over the middle of the seat to give you a sweet peck on your lips.

“What was that for?” you ask him, giggling as you place your hand over his on your thigh. He doesn’t answer, only shrugs his shoulders and grins as he pulls away from you, instantly making you seek him out again. You’re about to comment on his suddenly playful mood, when you realise the car is slowly coming to a stop, and you let out a breath of frustration when the driver informs you that you’ve hit traffic. And traffic in Paris on a Friday night? It’s safe to say that both of you know that you are not going anywhere fast.

The overall wait is not that bad, you think. Even though the traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace, you’re more than happy to be in the car where you can be with Lewis without the overwhelming sound of EDM music and sweaty bodies pushing you around in a crowded club. The same, however, cannot be said about your boyfriend.

As time passes and you’re, still, stuck in traffic, you can see Lewis getting more and more frustrated with the situation. You try not to comment on how annoyed he looks and let him have his silent moment of irritation. You gently squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile. “It's alright, Lewis. We'll get there eventually.”

He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... I hate being late.” He lets out another frustrated sigh as he gently pats the empty seat between the two of you. “Can you just come closer, please?”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowed down in suspicion as he somehow manages to pull you closer to himself, not that you would try to get out of the situation otherwise – with the amount of times you’ve found yourself suddenly sitting in Lewis’ lap, it’s almost as if you can’t get away from him when he’s next to you. “We can’t do anything,” you whisper in warning when you catch him giving you literal bedroom eyes.

Smirking at the anxious tone of your voice, he lets his hand wander down to your hip as he quickly manoeuvres you into his lap, despite all your warnings, and calls out to the driver loud enough for him to hear his voice, “Hey mate, can you pull up the partition, please?” You hear the sound of the partition going up as Lewis fiddles with the couple of the buttons on the door handle, and soon after you hear the faint sound of music playing in the car. He meets your eyes when you give him a funny look, silently asking him what he’s up to, but he responds with a faint smile as he rests his hand on your lower back.

Rolling your eyes at the antics of the driver sitting, literally, under you, you turn your attention back to the scenery outside the window. Going back to tracing the raindrops falling onto the glass window, you choose to focus on the outside view as best as you can, given the current position you’re in. Although you’ve warned him against it, Lewis’ hand on the lower of your back drawing circles into your skin gives you other ideas you would otherwise choose to ignore in a public setting.

“What are you up to, Lewis?” you ask, lips twitching in a need to smile as you do your best to supress it.

He grins, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark as he gives you an innocent shrug of his shoulder. “Just making the most of the situation, darling.”

Letting out a resigning sigh, you try to focus back on the rain outside, but with Lewis’ hand getting bolder on your lower back and the fact that you find yourself shuffling in your seat with every subtle movement of the car makes it almost impossible to focus on anything but him. Deciding to find out just how much you can get away with, you tilt your head back slightly, your lips hovering near his ear. “Are you trying to start a scandal, Mr. Hamilton?”

He chuckles, the vibrations from his laughter sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “I told you we'd make the most of it, didn't I?” Hid hand continues its teasing dance, eventually dipping lower and even under your dress, and you have to fight the urge to let out a moan at the feeling of his skin on yours. “We can make it into a challenge,” he offers, his voice low as he suggestively whispers on your skin, “see just how scandalous we can be in the back of a limo.”

“What if someone sees?” You mumble, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

His lips graze the curve of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked being watched, Peaches.” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk and a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your thigh, making you shuffle closer to him as a result. “Is that a yes?” Your eyes glance over at the closed up partition, but you nod your head nevertheless, though that doesn’t necessarily satisfy the man beside you. “Words, darling.”

“Yes, please.” The words escape your mouth and your hands slide down his body to work on the zipper of his dress pants. He gives you an amused look as you pull his zipper down, and kneel on the floor between his legs as elegantly as you can given the current situation you’re in. You hear him say your name in warning, giving you a way out, even though he was teasing you about your voyeuristic tendencies – and you might’ve considered taking it, if it weren’t for the fact that having him in your mouth is the only thing you can focus on at the moment. So, instead of pulling yourself up on Lewis’ lap and let him have his way with you, you carefully take his cock out, making sure to keep your eyes fixed on his during the whole process.

Giving him a few gentle strokes, you lean forward to lick the first few drops of precum that drips out of the head of his cock. The hiss he lets out when you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck on it gently makes you smirk, and so you swirl your tongue around the tip to get another reaction out of him. With the way his left hand grabs the door, you know Lewis is trying so hard not to just grab you by your hair and guide you the way he wants to. Humming at the taste of him, you widen your lips to fit more of him in your mouth and wrap both hands around his cock to pump the rest of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth. As you slowly start bobbing your head up and down on his cock, the sounds leaving his mouth make you want to quicken up your pace, though you refrain from doing so. Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a mere sound of your boyfriend’s pleasure, but you can’t help yourself as you inadvertently rub your thigs together.

You continue the movements of your mouth, taking more of him every time you bob your head down, and Lewis gives in at some point, threading his hands through your hair and guiding you down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Peaches,” his low groan sends tingles down your spine, “just like that.” He looks so beautiful, you think, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Your hands work together with your mouth, picking up speed when you realise you have him at your mercy like this – it even makes you wetter, and you feel the wetness between your legs. Your eyes water as a sudden move from Lewis thrusting his hips causes your gag reflex to remind you both that it is there, causing you to pull back with a huff and send a glare his way. But he apologises by caressing the apple of your cheek and easing you back onto his cock.

Your power move, however, doesn’t last long, as Lewis lets out a groan, pulling your head off of him and leaning forward to lift you onto his lap. It’s not necessarily intentional when you grind yourself against his cock, causing both of you to moan simultaneously. Your head is thrown back when you feel his lips gliding on your feverish skin, and you even let out a breathy laugh when your head lulls to the side and you see the handprints he’s left in the mirror. “Lewis,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low, suddenly very aware of the driver sitting in the front of the car, “if you don’t fuck me now, I think I might explode.”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands on your hips lifting you up to position you over his cock. But you have other plans in mind. He lets out a breathy chuckle as you drag your lips over the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoos as you leave feverish kisses along the way. “What are you doing?” He asks, hands busying themselves to get you out of your underwear.

Nipping at his skin, which earns you Lewis squeezing your hip in warning in return, but you give him a pout as you pull back. “You didn’t let me finish you off, you impatient brute.”

“Brute?” He echoes, not able to stop himself from laughing at your choice of words, “Are you going to be a brat, hm?” He is more than happy to play along when you get into these moods, though he also knows how you can get when you don’t get something you want. So when you fix him with a glare of your own, he lets out a deep sigh as he wraps your hair around one of his hands and pull your head back to bare your neck to him. “And to think I thought you were going to be a good girl, I guess that’s my fault.”

The whine that leaves you would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he has you in the in the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair,” another whine leaves you, and you attempt rolling your hips against his erection resting against you in between your legs, but before you can find a rhythm, he halts your movements by tugging on your hair again. Curling your fingers around his shirt, you huff a breath of annoyance, whining out his name. “I’ll be good,” you promise, and let out a relieved sigh when he lets go of your hair to give you more freedom to move; you thank him with a few kisses.

“I know you will.” Lewis mumbles, hands finding your underwear again, but he quickly becomes frustrated when he realises the position you’re in will make it hard for him to get you out of them. So, taking an executive decision, he decides to rip them off your body. He gives you a look when you whine at the loss of your favourite pair, and he tries to salve the situation with a promise of buying you another pair. When you feel him between your legs, without any barriers this time, he is not surprised to see your immediate reaction. Though Lewis enjoys when you take control, he is impatient as he raises your hips, despite all your protest, and positions you over his cock.

You only have a few moments to adjust when he eventually lowers you onto his cock, and the initial stretch has you gasping out his name. He gives you a few minutes to adjust before slowly starting to move your hips, each move making you take him deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in you. One of your hands is pressed to the window for support out of reflex, trying to keep still as he uses the grip he has on your hips to move you in the rhythm he wants. It matches the mood pretty well, you think, everything is rushed and the sounds of the traffic and the music playing surrounding you becomes muffled as the pleasure takes over your body. You have to physically stop yourself from screaming every time he slams you down on his cock, faster and harder each time, relentless as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

Trying your best to match his thrusts, you grind your clit on every down stroke, making him somehow go even deeper, and making you moan even louder. There is an arrogant smirk on his face that you would love to wipe off, but with the way he’s making you feel, you decide to get him away with it. Dragging your hands down his shirt, you suddenly feel offended by the fact that he is covering his chest, and decide to get him out of it. This plan would’ve worked better if it weren’t for the fact that you end up ripping the buttons rather than being gentler with it. Not that Lewis complains about it, since this is most definitely not the first time something like this has happened. Your hands work on their own as you glide them through the smooth skin, slightly damp due to the warm temperature of the car, but every contact with his skin seems to make you roll your hips faster and harder.

He has to close one of his hands over your mouth since the moans that leave you get considerably higher in volume with every waking second. His lips curl up in a smile as you silently beg him with your eyes, your movements becoming sloppier with every down stroke. “I’m going to remove my hand and help you come, but you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” His voice carries a warning tone, and you frantically nod, assuring him that you’ll follow his instructions.

Keeping true to his word Lewis takes away his hand, making you take a deep breath as he grabs your hips. His hold on your hips is bruising, and you’re certain you’ll have marks to remember tonight for a while – especially with the way he uses his hold to move you on his cock in a rhythm he wants to. It doesn’t take you a long time to feel the overwhelming pleasure starting to build up in your lower stomach. “Please,” you whine, nails biting into his skin as your other hand is splayed over the window for support, “I’m so close.”

“Come on,” Lewis encourages you, hands working you over his cock even faster to get you where you need to be, “give it to me, I got you.” And with him looking at you like that, using your body however he wants to? It doesn’t take long for you to feel yourself coming around him, head thrown back and lips parted in a silent scream. With a last thrust, you feel him also spill himself into you, the act being greatly intimate despite the current predicament you’re both in at that moment.

A sound of surprise leaves the back of your throat when he begins to move under you, positioning you to stand on all fours as he positions himself behind you. “Wha– What are you doing?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him with hazy eyes.

“Oh, Peaches,” he coos, one of his hands caressing your skin down your thighs and up towards your hip again, “did you think we were done? We still have a long way back to the hotel.”

“But, the club?” You find yourself asking, cheeks burning when he uses his finger to push the wetness dripping out of you back in.

“We were never going to make it to that club anyway,” Lewis drags his lips up your spine until he reaches your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before whispering, “what do you think? Should we make the most out of the way back?”

Your eyes slide towards the handprints left on the window, the Paris lights shining through the streaks both of your handprints have left behind. Maybe under different circumstances you would’ve insisted you go to the club to meet with your friends. But at that moment? You instinctively push your hips back onto his, and feel his smile on your skin as he runs his hands through your body, ready for another round simply because you two can’t keep away from each other.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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futureman · 8 months

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hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home.

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate.

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out.

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better.

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked.

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel.

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word.

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers.

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you.

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer.

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice.

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware.

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable.

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long.

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately.

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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schrodingerscougar · 2 months

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Note: the 2nd part for this. fem!reader. cheating. i didn’t think you would like it so much, but since you did, here’s part two.

•••

Maybe if he watched you close enough, if he kept an eye on you while he was near, Simon would get the answers he was looking for. All he wanted was a glimpse into your mind, a glint in your eyes that would give away why you’d spent those nights by his side without saying anything about it.

The mission was slowly coming to an end, and he had overheard you and Johnny talk about your plans for your time home. The Scotsman offered to go on a short trip with you to Rome, visiting the city you’d read so much about in the past year or so. Going there was a promise you made to yourself on New Year’s Day and he was more than happy to help make it happen.

“Have you introduced her to your family?” Simon asked Johnny one evening when they went out for a drink.

The younger man gave him a confused look, but once the lieutenant motioned towards the corner of the bar where you were deep in a conversation with Laswell, his lips formed a flat line and he nodded a few times. “Yeah, well, I mentioned her once to my sister, and the next thing I know, my mother’s blowing up my phone. I’d rather keep her away from this insanity,” he explained.

“Wise choice.”

He hated this. He hated to know that Johnny was dating you, he hated to keep up this nice conversation with him, all while he was struggling to find out why you cared about him back then. His mind was full of stupid ideas again, that maybe you weren’t that deeply in love with the fellow sergeant. What if he was just your backup plan? What if the one you truly wanted was him?

Fucking hell. He was truly losing his grip.

“I’m going back to the base.”

Simon looked to the side, only to find you standing there with this adorable warm smile on your perfect, kissable lips. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Johnny taking your hand, his fingers lacing with yours before he raised it to his mouth to place a soft kiss on it.

He definitely didn’t have the right to be upset about it. Yet, he felt a pang of jealousy, and he was maybe even offended by the way Johnny’s blue eyes shined when he looked at you. His mind was telling him it should be him, even though he knew it was against the regulations.

“Let me finish my drink and I’ll walk you back,” Johnny said, but you just shook your head and told him he should take his time, have fun, and maybe he should talk to the others too. “You think I’m ignoring them? Well, I do spend a lot of time in the Lt’s company, that’s true,” he mused.

After he took a glance at the empty glass next to him, Simon had an idea. “I’m done for today anyway, I can go with her if you don’t want her to go alone,” he offered.

While Johnny seemed happy that he was kind enough to go with you, you looked hesitant. Unsure. Damn, if he didn’t know any better he would’ve said you looked scared for a moment. But why would you be scared? He didn’t do anything that could scare you.

In the end you agreed, so the two of you were soon out on the street, walking side by side. The need to reach out and take your hand poisoned Simon’s mind, and he decided to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead. He glanced over at you every so often, enjoying the view that he wouldn’t see for a few weeks at least.

“Why did you stay by my side in the infirmary while I was recovering?” he suddenly asked, his eyes fixed on you to see your facial expression.

And sure enough, at first you looked shocked. “What do you mean?” you inquired innocently.

With a sigh, Simon came to a halt and grabbed your wrist to make you stop as well. “I saw you there. And the doctor confirmed that you spent every night there with me while I was knocked out.”

“Look, it’s—”

“Why? I need to know,” he pressed on.

You buried your fingers into your hair as you spinned on your heels to turn away from him. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to be alone,” you admitted.

Once he took a deep breath, he was quick to blow it out. “So you stayed out of pity?”

“No! I mean… God, Ghost, I don’t know, okay? It just didn’t feel right to let you lie there on your own, I didn’t want you to wake up alone, and—”

He shouldn’t have done it, but it felt so good. Because Simon launched forward, his big palm placed on the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. At first you were frozen from surprise, but then you returned his kiss, lips moving against each other in perfect sync. He had been waiting for this for so long that he couldn’t even believe it was happening.

He was only pulled back to reality by your voice after you pulled away and took a few steps away from him. “What the hell are you doing?” you asked. “Fuck, what the hell am I doing?”

“It’s okay, we can always pretend it never happened,” he said with an aching heart.

“You don’t get it, do you?” When Simon shrugged and shook his head, you walked back to him and poked his chest with your index finger. “I’m with Johnny, this is totally against the rules, and no matter how badly I always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you, this can’t happen again. But I know it happened and it’s going to torture me now.”

With a gulp, Simon nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he said with a sigh.

To his surprise, you put a hand on his now masked cheek, a move so gentle that he was beginning to get very confused. And when you pulled down his mask, things got even more confusing, because you stood on your toes and kissed him again. This time you let yourself go, your fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair as you moaned against his lips.

“We should get going,” you said once you let him go and pulled his mask back to its place.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Instead of answering, you flashed a smile at him, making his life a living hell by playing an innocent angel. But then you curled your finger to make him come a little closer. “Neither do I. But we will have to figure it out.”

(part 3)

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap #soap x reader #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #call of duty

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ellastone-olsen · 4 months

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Make her happy-Wanda Maximoff

★Pairing: StepMom! Wanda x f!reader

Summary: one day your father brings home a new woman, and then that woman brings you home. drunk. and you're in love with her.

★Warning: NSFW 18+, stepcest, age gap (all legal), mommy kink, praise kink, masturbation, smoking, alcohol, forbidden relationship, mentions of violence, little fluff at the end off course

★Word count: 3k

★AN: there are a few set expressions that are in my native language, but I don’t know how it sounds in English, so I translated it verbatim

There was a crowd of people around. A lot of young people like you, who came here with the same goals: to drink, have fun, maybe find someone for the night, as is usually the case. You never needed a lot of alcohol to start feeling drunk, and after a bottle of beer you were already in high spirits and holding the second one in your hands. Your friends went into pairs and danced together, you looked around: some were kissing as if they were ready to eat each other, some were simply jumping in the music like you, some had already begun to go to separate rooms or to their homes for more private relationships . As always, the student party smelled of alcohol and debauchery. A girl was dancing across from you; you were clearly having fun, even if you didn’t know each other’s names.

You've always had a taste for older women, so it wasn't a surprise when you realized you liked your stepmom. Your parents divorced when you were 11 and immediately after that your mother left for oblivion in another city. At first, out of childish naivety, you tried to call her or write, but as you got older, you realized that your life was no longer her concern. When this realization came to you, there was an unpleasant pang somewhere in your heart; for the first time you realized that there was no such person who didn’t care about you. Even your father, with whom you stayed to live in your hometown, seemed in no hurry to provide you with parental support and care, you just saw each other at home, as if you were neighbors, but were not close. And then Wanda appeared.

Your father chose not to tell the details of their acquaintance and at first, of course, did not bring her to your house. You just knew that somewhere out there there was another woman named Wanda, who, according to your father, was a real angel and you would definitely make friends with her. Of course, you were overcome by skepticism about this. He said this about Jessica and about Emma and about... and you no longer remembered the names of all his ex-women with whom he tried to start an affair after your mother left. Generally speaking, you didn't expect anything. But when their relationship (as your father thought) reached a new level, Wanda showed up at your house. You were a little over 19 at that time and you were studying at college not far from home, God knows why, but you didn’t want to go somewhere else to a life full of uncertainty and doubt. Of course, the factor that living with your father was easier financially and domestically also played a role; you knew that your small salary as a salesperson and an even more meager stipend would not be enough for the same comfortable life as you had now.

As you walked out of your room to the sound of the door opening and two people talking, Wanda greeted you with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. You just stood there in your pajamas and stupid bunny slippers and stared unblinkingly at the woman with the big green eyes. The thought “what someone like Wanda saw in your father” even flashed through your head, even if it was wrong to think so. From that day on, the woman became a frequent guest in your home, and gradually in your thoughts.

One day, walking past a room that belonged to your father, who was not at home at that moment, you looked into a small gap from the door that was not completely closed and stood in place, as if stuck to the floor. Wanda stood with her back to the door and pulled the straps of a lacy black frameless bra over her shoulders. In the mirror that was a little to the side, you saw the reflection of her full breasts, the barely visible outlines of her nipples and her soft, toned stomach. You knew that you shouldn’t do this, at least for reasons of personal space, and at most for moral reasons, but you couldn’t help yourself, this sight fascinated you so much. Your mouth watered and your breath caught in your throat as you watched the woman who was your stepmom. When Wanda started to turn around to take a red knitted sweater from the bed, you jumped away from the door as if struck by an electric shock and quickly went to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and carefully pretending to choose between several types of coffee. A minute later, the older woman joined you, making her presence known with her hands sliding softly over your waist. Of course, your trembling at this action did not escape her attention.

In the end, Wanda finally settled in your house and with each passing month her presence drove you more and more crazy. It seemed like she deliberately didn’t close the door all the way when she went to change clothes or take a shower, putting on a little show for you. Her touches, which were unusual for you, gave you goosebumps, but due to the lack of warm relationships in the family, you thought that all “parents” do this: they hug you from behind and leave soft kisses at the base of your neck. One small incident became the point of no return for you personally.

You have never been a morning person, if in the morning and during the day all you dreamed of was a sound sleep, invariably with the onset of night a small hyperactive motor would start up inside, but perhaps your insomnia was also to blame. The clock showed 2:34 when your eyes scanned the Tik Tok feed and you giggled at stupid videos with animals, before having managed to take turns drawing, then reading, and so on in a circle. The apartment was quiet, only the sound of the clock ticking away the seconds, disturbing the peace of the heated spring air. You took off your massive headphones and pressed the off button when you heard some strange sounds somewhere behind the wall in the back where your father's room was and... oh. You held your breath and listened more closely, but there was no need because Wanda didn’t seem to be trying very hard to control herself. Every second, the woman’s screams of pleasure were muffled to your ears and an insistent pulsation settled between your thighs. With every sound coming from her mouth, a hot wave appears in the bottom of your stomach and the desire to relieve it was driving you crazy. Then for the first time you did THIS with thoughts about your stepmom.

The hand pulled the pajama pants down your legs along with ruined panties. When you pushed two fingers inside, your pussy was already wet and ready for invasion. You focused your mind on the image of the woman behind the wall and your own moans were drowned in the pillow. You imagined how her hips were rolling now, how her breasts were bouncing, her soft tender skin, in your mind there was only Wanda.

You look in prostration at the boiling kettle when a familiar hand strokes your lower back. "Good morning, my dear." You don't look at her, cheeks turning red from the events of this night. "Good morning." You drink your coffee in silence, you avoid her gaze. The click of a lighter breaks the ringing emptiness between you. A woman lights a cigarette and the smell of tobacco reaches you; a hand with a red manicure hands you a pack. It’s not that you hid your bad habits, but you didn’t allow yourself to do it in front of your father. A sigh leaves your lips and you take one, Wanda strikes the lighter and brings the fire to the tip of the cigarette between your lips. Nicotine hits your head and everyone is dizzy from harmful pleasure. "How did you sleep?" She asks as if she's mocking you. Only now did you notice that she was wearing a light night dress, which did not hide her breasts too much. You try your best not to look there, your gaze runs from her face to her chest several times and she sees it perfectly. “Like dead.”

The party was in full swing, the second bottle of beer was finished and thrown into the trash. It was your friend's friend's house or something like that. You stood in the kitchen and poured yourself some water, hoping that there would be lemon in the refrigerator. Someone’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind and you were scared because the body pressed against your back was clearly taller and larger than you. “Baby, do you want to go upstairs?” You immediately disentangled yourself from the unwanted hug and looked at the guy you saw a couple of times in college, but didn’t even know his name or what year he was in. “Who are you anyway?!” He made another attempt to come closer, but you had already jumped away towards the living room with a crowd of people. “Come on, don’t pretend, that’s how you look at me in college.” You were confused. “What are you talking about? I don't even know who the hell you are." You turned and started to leave, but his strong hand grabbed you, holding you in place. “No, I didn’t finish.” His grip was strong and you had already imagined all the worst possible scenarios, but like a blessing from above, your friend appeared. “Dude, haven’t you mixed up anything? Do you want us to go out now and I’ll put your brains back in place a couple of times?” You were immediately free. The guy raised his hands in surrender. “Okay okay, take it easy man.” He retreated as quickly as he appeared. You were shaking a little from the situation and you immediately took out your phone, finding Wanda’s contact.

“Y/N how are you? I don’t know who called him here, do you want to go outside?” You shook your head in reluctance. “Everything is okay, I’m drunk and I’ll probably go home. Wanda will pick me up." Your father was not in the city; in truth, he began to go on business trips too often, which aroused certain suspicions. Wanda saw this too and began to understand where everything was going. The answer came immediately, as if she had been waiting for this message. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Her text message said.

After saying goodbye to your friends in the driveway, you got into Wanda's red Volvo, where the woman interrogate you about what had happened. “What an asshole.” You were already at home in the kitchen and the woman was swearing under her breath while she made you both hot tea. She changed into her home clothes, back into one of her light night dresses. Your alcohol-fogged brain was screaming to touch her. You watched her body move under the thin silk fabric and legs themselves carried you in the right direction. Wanda was stirring sugar in her tea when your arms grabbed hers and you pressed your body against her back, burying your face in her hair, inhaling the aroma of shampoo. The woman mentally smiled at your gesture of tenderness. "What is a cute girl?" She reached out her hand and slide it in your disheveled hair, slightly pulling back the tufts of hair. The little whine escaped you and you pressed yourself closer to her, as if you were trying to become one with her. “You smell like beer and cigarettes Y/N.” Well, it was a statement of fact, so it’s not offensive. You nuzzled her neck and Wanda turned in your arms. Now was, if not ideal, then a great moment to lay all the cards on the table. “How dare this bastard touch what’s mine.” She whispered it on your lips and your heart sank. “Wanda...you...” The words died between your lips as the older woman pulled you into a kiss. Out of shock, you didn’t immediately answer her, but quickly relaxed and attacked her lips, pressing the woman into the kitchen counter.

“Wanda...I...” You tried to convey your thoughts about your feelings for her between kisses. “Hush, pretty girl...I know everything.” You stopped and looked at her with wide eyes. The older woman laughed and took your face in her hands. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t notice anything? Oh what a sweet little thing." Everything seemed too good a dream, the woman was about to take you to her room, but you stood on the threshold, refusing to go there. “No, come to me.” You clearly didn't like the idea of doing this with Wanda in the bed where she slept with your father. Then you remembered who she is to you and how you both act towards him. “Wait, but my father...You are his wife.” “And it only started to bother you now? Oh don't worry about it baby, he's been cheating on me for a long time and I want to file for divorce. Just don’t tell him.” She winked and closed your bedroom door behind her. She didn't seem upset about it.

Wanda was lying on your big soft bed, surrounded by plush animals, her housedress riding up to her hips and it was too good to be true. It seemed that you would wake up and everything would be over. You didn't care about taking off your dirty street clothes, all that mattered now was the woman underneath you. “Come on baby, make mommy happy, make me cum.” The title that Wanda gave herself completely drove you insane and you tore the silk from her body, leaving only panties decorated with lace. Even though you were on top, Wanda controlled the situation. Her skillful hands and voice guided you on how to do better.

Your knee put pressure between the older woman's thighs, which you held with your hands so tightly that they would leave bruises later. Her skin was as soft as you imagined and Wanda held your hair and guided you to her breasts, encouraging you to play with her nipples. You were ready to suffocate between her breasts, you liked them so much. Your lips wrapped around her nipple and grip on your hair tightened. “That's such a good girl, now give me your hand.” She guided you between your legs where underwear was soaked with arousal. When your finger brushed over her swollen clit, she flexed and grabbed your hair tighter. “You’re so wet, I need to try it, can I?” You whined, desperate to please.

She was completely naked in front of you and your mouth was watering at the sight. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined.” Your lips peppered her stomach with small kisses. “Did you imagine me naked, baby? Mmm I bet you were touching yourself when you thought about it.” She again directed your head, but this time to her pulsating center, and before diving between her folds, you decided to add fuel to the fire. “To be honest, I heard you scream while you were fucking with my father and while listening I touched myself right here on this bed.” You said this and your lips wrapped around her swollen bud, causing Wanda to arch her back. She squeezed around nothing and you put three fingers into her at once, twist them so that each time they hit her sensitive spot. "Yes Yes! That’s my good girl, you make mommy feel so good!” She screamed into the emptiness of the apartment and fidgeted all over your face. You pounded into her at a fast pace and added a fourth finger. After a few minutes, her walls began to tighten around you and she came, squeezing your head with her thighs as if she were going to crush you.

When she relaxed, you rose to her lips and brought you together. “Did I do good mommy?” You whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe. "Yeah baby." You lay under her side playing with her tits, sometimes kissing her shoulder. The woman stroked your cheek and lifted your face, urging you to look into her eyes. "Do you want to be with me?" The question took you by surprise and you remained silent. Wanda took this as a refusal and turned to the other side, covering her naked body with a blanket. "I understand." It came muffled from her. The last thing you wanted to do was upset her, especially since you wanted to be her girlfriend more than anything.

You got up from the bed and the older woman thought that you were leaving, but you walked around the bed and sat down in front of her so that you could see her face. "Yes, I want to be with you. I think I love you Wanda." After these words, she crawled out of her homemade cocoon and extended her hands to you. You crawled into her arms.

"What will happen next?" Your question hung in the air. More than anything, you hated uncertainty. Wanda turned to look at you. “I will divorce with your father and move into my old apartment. We can see each other without hiding it, he’s unlikely to mind.” You nodded but remained silent, encouraging her to continue. “I don’t think he should know about our new type of relationship, of course, but that’s just for him.” You nodded again. It was like something self-explanatory. In your dreams, you had already moved into Wanda’s apartment, but you didn’t tell her.

"So what is next?" A grin settled on her face. “And then baby, I’d like to think about your satisfaction.” She said as she pulled your clothes off.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff imagine #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #wanda marvel

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 months

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trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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pedge-page · 4 months

Text

Mother Who Provides

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: based off this lovely ask for sub Joel wanting to breastfeed and get jerked off, and hella Mommy kink!

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, breastfeeding, lactation, praise, love biting, assisted m masturbation, male orgasm, cum eating, little belly stuffing because this bitch just loves his Mommy's milk sm

18 + ONLY

- - - -

The first time Joel watched you breastfeed your newborn baby had him feeling all kinds of—different inside. You weren’t totally aware of it at first, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Every time you got up to go feed the little one, he was always within the same room, or meandering in the hall pretending to carry the laundry, or just finding an excuse to sit across from you and watch.

He thought it was just an awe—here’s the woman of his dreams who just single handedly grew a whole human being in her belly, then pushed it out all by herself after 13 hours of labor, and now is nurturing his child from her own body. You were like a miracle who just kept giving.

His cock getting hard was just the excitement of how amazing women were. That’s it.

But you had started to notice other things that were strange in his behavior. One time you had gotten up at 3am to feed the baby, Joel still asleep by your side. When you had finished and crawled back in to bed, reaching out for the warm security of his body, he wasn’t there. You groggily waddled down to the kitchen to find your husband chugging a gallon of whole milk like a fish out of water. His eyes fell upon you, the way you yawned, dressed in a dissheveled night gown and asked if he’s ok, unaware that you were rubbing your sore breasts in your palm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, predatory eyes wide as he stares at your chest, ready to pounce on you like a wolf.

You knew pretty well right then what his little “problem” was.

From then on, you intentionally were seeking him out in tighter shirts so he could see your bouncing swollen breasts more clearly, leaning over in front of him more often, or just straight up asking if he could give you a tits massage. Complaining about how “sore” they felt, or not wanting your milk to go to waste since the baby couldn’t drink it all even after having an entire freezer full.

You feint a sigh. “Maybe I should donate it…”

“NO!” He shouts a little louder than he intended. “I mean… uh.” He coughs, unable to think of a reasonable excuse.

“Yeah? Who else is going to drink it, Joel?” You taunt. Joel was a tough man, but admitting things that he wanted was difficult to force out of him.

“I—I mean we—we could—“ he shook his head and went to sit on the couch. “Sorry, I mean. That’s a great idea. You should do that. Be nice for other moms.”

Joel wrings his hands together and looks away, clearing his throat.

You stride over to him and straddle his hips, his pupils going big with shock. You sit up on your knees with him caged under you, your breasts level with his nose as you rub your fingers through his brown curly hair. “Is that what you want?”

You can see the way his eyes are trained forward, looking at the swollen nipples poking through your tank top. He swallows heavily and licks his lips, hands resting on your waist, fighting the urge to bite.

“No…” he whispers softly.

“No? Is there someone else who should get Mommy’s milk?” You tease.

He closes his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Speak, baby boy.”

“M-Me,” he says, head tilted up to you as he nuzzles the scruff of his cheek into your chest. You cup his head to firmly press his face harder, his nose gliding along the cleavage as he inhales your scent sharply. His hands creep up along your sides before grasping the droopy fat of the underside of your breasts, making you gasp.

You don’t even need to sit down on him fully to feel the tent poking your clit as you hover over him. He squeezes your tits roughly before wrapping his teeth around a nipple and tugging gently, releasing it with a satisfying bounce back in to place. The result was a slight damp spot around the peak where a drip of your milk seeped out.

And Joel Miller fucking whimpers for the first time in his life.

You hum in delight. “Can you ask Mommy nicely?”

He doesn’t hesitate: “Please, can I have Mommy’s milk?”

Holy fuck, you’re a sucker for your man.

Now a half hour later, Joel is still greedily suckling at your tit as if being starved his whole life. You’re sitting on the couch while cradling Joel’s head in your lap, having him lying down on his back in the perfect position for the milk in your breasts to just flow right into his hungry mouth.

His eyes are closed, jaw working open as his lips suction tightly, gulping your sweetness. You stroke the greying hairs on his cheek, feeling the way he hums contently vibrate against your skin.

He feels safe like this, in such a vulnerable position. The idea of protecting you, being on guard, defensive, all of that stress melts away while being swaddled by you. He can let go of worry, of anxiety, taking deep breaths and feeding soothingly under the gently, nurturing embrace of his beautiful, life-giving wife.

You had palmed his hard-on the entire time, not releasing it quite yet until you were satisfied with how full his tummy had grown. You could even hear the little sloshes of bubbles in his stomach as it filled with new nutrients. He’d let out a tiny whimper, milk caught in his throat when you’d squeeze around his base possessively before returning to your palming. His precum smears along his thigh and shorts.

“You’re so hungry, baby,” you coo, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “This whole time you just wanted a taste of Mama’s milk, hmm?”

He nods absentmindedly, refusing to let go of your golden titty.

Unsatisfied with his response, you grip his hair and yank his head down, his lips detaching and falling away from your breast. He lets out a needy whine and stares at you. “Y-yes Mommy. Wanted your milk. Please can I have some more?”

You giggle and nod. His tongue darks out to lick the little drips that had trickles down before attaching back to your nipple and suckling happily.

You pull his throbbing length out though the hole in his boxers. “Gimme a little spit,” you command softly.

Joel sits his head up, cheeks full of milk. You put your hand out in front of his lips as he release the creamy substance into your palm. Your newly silkened hand finds its way back to wrap around his base before stroking him.

“Ohhhhh f-fuck Mommy!” he groans, eyes closed and leaning back against your thigh. But the sensation was too good, hips bucking up that he had to force his chin back up to continue watching. Your fingers expertly curled around his mushroom tip with each pass, the assistance of the milk acting as a lubricant. He licked his upper lick, his leg twitching with how hot it felt. You lean forward a bit and push your tit closer to his lips again. His eyes dart to you, tongue sticking out to capture your nipple again before resuming his impatient guzzling.

“Naughty, boy, getting all hard when drinking from Mommy’s tit.” You swirl his slit with the tip of your nail, his steady flow of precut oozing out and mixing with the milk. You feel his throat flex with each stutter, his mind reeling in and out of sanity, fists balled at his sides to avoid taking control. Joel’s lips were a sin everywhere else on your body, and this moment was no different. They were full, pouty, and his lower lip juts out enough to be able to easily catch your nipple and hold on with each insatiable gulp.

“Maybe I should bottle it up and let you bring it to work with you. Can share your special bottle with the other boys,” you laugh.

Joel growls angrily, browns crunched as he bites your nipple possessive.

You hiss out in pain, fisting his curls once again. “Ow! Bite me again and you’re done,” you warn. His face relaxes, eyes staring up at you with sorrow as you resume your pace pumping his shaft.

“Ah-m srorry—Momm-ee,” he mumbles against the fat of your breasts, soothing over his bite mark with his warm wet tongue.

You sigh deeply. The weight on your chest is almost fully lifted now that Joel has swallowed so much of the milk that had built up.

Your baby was just so little right now, there was only so much he could fill in his tiny body, leaving you aching, heavy, and swollen all day and night. But your full grown 5’11 200 pound hunk of a husband? He could drink for HOURS and drain you completely so that fresh milk can replenish your system just for your baby.

“Maybe we should make your feeding a regular thing too. Would you like that?” You hum. You increase the speed of your hand, now jerking his cock violently.

“Ahh—ah! Ye-oh fuck, fuck Mommy—yes, yes I want it!”

“Yeah? You wanna be full of Momma’s milk all the time? Bet you wanna cum too. Taking such good care of me, I think you deserve a reward.”

He swallows another big load before his panting forces him away, creamy liquid spilling over his cheeks. “Ah—ugh-ugh oh fuck, fuck yeah! Wanna cum, wanna cum on Mommy’s hand, please! Please, keep tuggin’ my dick just like that, Fuck! FUCK yes Mommy!”

His mouth falls open, breath caught in his throat as you feel his hips raising off the couch slightly. You take the opportunity to lean forward and shove as much of your tits in his mouth as you can, suffocating him. His eyes roll back as the first of his cum spews up into the air, followed up big spurts rapidly shooting as you violently work his cock.

“Shhhh, that’s it, that’s my good boy, keep cumming all over Mommy’s hand, such a good boy. Don’t forget keep drinking your special milk. Mommy made it just for you.” You bite your lip at the idea of motherhood just falling so easily over you.

His whole body shutters, moaning and sucking around your breasts, unsure what to do with himself as he keeps cumming in your hand. His dick pulses the last of his spent, dribbling globs of sticky, thick semen all over your fingers and his full stomach. He quivers from the overstimulation, suppressing a burp.

You remove your hand, caressing the heft of his bulging stomach just as he takes a deep breath through his nose, calming his breathing. He opens his eyes to see you licking the glorious mess of his cum off of your palm, each finger dipping in to your sinful mouth and sucking his spend clean.

“Fuuucckkkk, that’s hot. Eatin my cream when I drink yours.” His eyes are positively drunk off of you. He babbles quickly: “Wanna keep ya milkin’ every year. Kids or not. These tits are mine. Keep me stuffed full of ya sweet cream, Momma. Never need to buy dairy again. Just drink it straight from the tap.”

You grab his hands down by his side and bring them up to your tits, guiding him to rub your sore breasts gently. “Gotta work them up to get more in you.”

Joel doesn’t argue, taking over the movement and squeezing your breast like icing bag, bringing your nipple back down to his lips as he milks more of your love into his mouth.

- - - -

Permanent taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg

#pedro pascal smut #sub!Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou smut #the last of us smut #sub!joel kingdom #sub!joel #lactating kink #pregnancy kink #mommy kink

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kitoshii · 4 months

Note

Omg i just love your first fan fic definitely needs a part 2 maybe where bunny reader finds out that they actually got pregnant with mr.wolf and reader is just so confused but he decides to tell mr.wolf the news and mr.wolf is just watching t.v when bunny reader comes in and wolf is just so horny that he drags bunny reader to their room and do the cha-cha but this is just an idea write you're fan fiction how you want to write it

hellooo nonnie ! so your request did help me decide on a part two, but i changed some things ‘nd cut the pregnancy part, i really hope you don’ mind ! | pt 1 here

whos ? subbot ! bunny hybrid ! male ! reader x domtop ! wolf hybrid ! male ! character

lovin ? heavy orgasm denial , predator / prey themes , hair pulling , breeding , size kink , marking , overstim , full nelson , feminization , readers dick referred to as a clit

stretching your arms over your head as you lean back in your plush gaming chair, a soft pop echoes from your wrist. the sound makes you shake your ears, before standing up and closing your laptop carefully.

tugging your shorts down your legs, the soft click and thump of the front door had your ears twitching in attention, a little smile gracing your face as you assumed it was your mother coming home.

you opened your door, quickly flitting down the stairs with your moms name at the top of your tongue, before skidding to a stop, your socks slipping on the slick wooden floor, falling on your butt at the last stair. a loud squeak escaped your mouth, and your hands flung out, attempting to grasp onto the tight shirt of the tall wolf in front of you.

your hands retracted as quick as they had come, delicate fingers clasped against your chest. there was a moment of silence before your wide eyes nervously looked up, only to find him already staring down his nose at you with narrowed eyes. to your fear ridden mind, it seemed like they were glowing with a predatory urge and your breath hitched, suddenly reminded that you were in fact a prey animal.

a smirk spread across his lips, his eyes narrowing further for just a second before turning to his father, who peered around him curiously.

“he slipped.” he muttered, watching as the older wolf nodded, a concerned look on his face before walking to join your mother in the kitchen.

your eyes were still locked onto his frame, and when his met yours again you flinched, realizing you were still on the ground. shaky legs planted themselves on the ground, your arms attempting to push yourself up before a large hand was tucked under your arm, pulling you to your feet. you stumbled forward into his chest, face planted there until his other hand carded through your hair, tugging your head back to look up at him.

“you’re clumsy, cottontail.”

you almost whimpered at his actions, closing your thighs together without thinking, trembling hands coming up and grabbing onto his shirt. your eye contact only faltered for just a second when he glanced down, a cocky - and slightly predatory - smirk one again gracing his face. he tugged on your hair harder, leaning down so his lips were next to your ear.

“run, little bunny.” he whispered, his words accentuated by a deep, quiet growling that seemed to come from the back of his throat. his grip on you faltered and you were still for a moment, before you stepped back, foot slipping on the steps, and suddenly you were scrambling up the stairs, reaching your room ‘nd slamming the door behind you.

“what was that?” your mother called, peeking out from behind the wall to the kitchen, making eye contact with the younger wolf.

“it’s nothing.” he smiled, waving his hand ‘nd walking to the living room to sit on the couch, leaning back ‘nd manspreading his legs with the remote to the t.v in hand as if nothing had happened.

his father and your mother passed by the couch, his hair being ruffled by the small woman. “your dad and i want to go out for a bit, is that alright with you ?” she asked sweetly, leaning over the armrest of the couch, his father playing with her bent ears idly.

“thats fine,” he grunted, sitting up from his slouched position. “how long will y’ be gone?”

“don’t know yet. we’ll text Y/N when we’re on the way home, kay?” the youngest nodded in acknowledgment, and his father patted his head before they were on their way, the front door shutting behind them with a soft click.

you came walking down the stairs not long after, your steps slow and tentative. you noted the lack of shoes by the front door, coming to the quick conclusion that the adults had left - and you had half a mind to go back up to your room and not come out, but you had caught his eyes quickly and now his attention was on you.

offering him a nervous smile, you kept your head down and walked quickly to the far side of the couch, sitting down and focusing on the television. a short chuckle left his mouth as he took quick notice of something.

“what happened to the pretty pink shorts you were wearing earlier?” he asks, his eyes still trained on the tv in front of him, and you could only look down, embarrassed, because you had in fact changed your shorts to some plain black ones after soiling the others - but theres no way you could tell him that.

“.. they were too small for me.” you mumbled after a few moments, and he looked over to you, his eyes trailing down to your thighs and back to your face with an eyebrow raise and you realize how stupid that excuse was because these shorts are also tight - hugging your dick and squeezing your thighs.

your face flared in red, crossing your legs and tugging your sweater down.

“let me ask you again, doll,” he started, reaching out and tugging you towards him by your waist, his body moving so he was facing you, one knee resting on the couch. “why’d you change your shorts?”

you stared at your hands that were on your lap, holding your sweater down over half of your thighs.

“i… i told you..” you stumbled over your words, breath hitching when you felt his hand tighten around your waist. you only heard him grunt before you were stumbling on your feet, a harsh grip around your wrist.

your back hit the mattress, his large hands pulling you towards him roughly, plush thighs resting over his muscular ones. a whimper from you made his fluffy ears twitch, sharp eyes narrowing as he ran his big hands over your thighs, reveling in the way your body jerked.

your soft ears perked up as he began to talk, his deep ‘nd demanding voice sounding ominous to your muddled mind.

“now, i can either….” he started, big hands running under your sweater ‘nd across your stomach, “abuse your poor little clit,” he continued with a chuckle, squeezing your small cock to accentuate his words, making your back arch, “nd use you for my own pleasure without lettin’ you cum once,” he pushed up your sweater, flicking your nipple harshly, “or you can tell me the real answer, ‘nd i’ll fuck you like a good boy deserves to be fucked.”

you panted harshly, closing your eyes tight and gritting your teeth, your knuckles turning white as your small hands fisted the sheets under you.

“i- i… i fuckin- told you!” you gasped out, shaking your head as he flicked your dick with a sigh.

“well, i did warn you.”

“h-hnghh !” you squealed, voice muffled as your head was pressed into the mattress by his strong hands, struggling to breathe between your heavy breaths and lack of space.

he’d been fucking you for a while now, harsh teeth marks clear around your nipples, on your neck, and even your arms. you felt completely ruined, your hard, leaky, and red cock bouncing underneath you with every thrust, the hairtie around the base of it stopping you from cumming throughout this whole session, although you’re sure you’re multiple dry orgasms in.

his big cock presses against your prostate unrelentingly, strong arms pressing into you at different areas as he holds his weight against you, his thrusts so harsh ‘nd so fast you can barely tell apart his thrusts in and slides out of your poor, ruined hole.

a loud sob is ripped from you when his hand that was holding your head down is suddenly wrapped around your cock, his finger teasing the tip.

“you wanna cum, bunny?” he asks with faux sympathy, teasing the area around the hairtie, his cock still fucking into you with no mercy.

“y-yes! g-gna cum ! cum - please!” you squeak, your legs kicking up from the bed, feeling your gut twist once again with the painful need to release, your body convulsing under his as he only grins with pride.

“that’s too bad, isn’t it?” he practically coos in your ear, his voice lust filled, condescending, and predatory. theres a grunt from behind you and suddenly you’re being lifted, your chest to his back, legs slipped from under you, his muscular arms holding them in the crook of his elbows, and he wastes no time in pummeling back into your ruined hole in that position, cock kissing places you didn’t even think existed inside of you.

you feel like the breath is knocked from your lungs and you attempt to scratch at his arms because your small cock is so fucking ruined, ‘s pathetically leaking precum like a faucet, bouncing against your stomach as it loses some of it’s hardness - simply because the dry orgasms have taken so much out of you.

“look at that.. little clit’s showin’ me just how useless it really is.” he growls, biting deep into the marked skin of your neck afterwards, his swollen knot pressing against your puffy hole as his dick twitches inside of you, his head spinning and overwhelmed with the need to bulge your belly with his puppies.

“shit, bunny.. got me cummin’ so soon.” he huffs, a sloppy grin on his face as his hips never falter , even with how daringly close he is to teetering over the edge ‘nd filling your hole up.

his head shakes, ears twitching as his breathing picks up heavily, trying to center his mind, as it runs to fucking you until you pass out, using your pretty holes till youre filled with his cum and covered in his scent - his strong arms and hands increasing the grip he had on your legs.

he adjusts his arms so your legs are practically touching your ears, his hand coming up to shove large fingers in your mouth, his own baring his fangs into your shoulder - thrusting deep ‘nd hard into your little cunt, filling your stomach with his cum.

a loud wail is muffled against his digits, sobs wracking your chest as you convulse so harshly you’re practically pushed out of his arms, your head shaking back and forth.

“shit..” he mumbles, barking out a laugh. “forgot you had that on.” theres a large grin on his face as he sets your legs down, turning you onto your back. his hands work at untying the hairtie from your dick - rutting back into your hole with a few deep, rough thrusts once it’s off, bathing in the scream you release.

“y’said you wanted to cum, yeah?”

ahhh, i did it ! y’guys proud of me? ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

#xo . kitoshii #sub male reader #bottom male reader #bottom gn reader #bottom reader #bunny hybrid #dom male character #dom top character #sub gn reader #mlm nsft #knotting cw #feminization cw #breeding cw #wolf hybrid #sub nsft #top jjk #top cod #top gojo

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 2 months

Text

{ soooo.... @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe reblogged ONE werewolf post and mentioned steddie in the tags and then... this... happened. It was all spur of the moment with no planning so if you see mistakes and/or plot holes... no you don't. 😬💖 }

Warnings: Billy Hargrove, blood, wound tending, violence, if it needs anymore let me know. ✌🏻

🍒🍒🍒

"I'm completely serious." Eddie says, feet kicked up on.... someone's coffee table. He doesn't remember who's party it is. Jeff nods agreeably next to him, sinking further into the couch.

"No. You've gotta be fucking joking. That would not-" Gareth tries to argue. Eddie cuts him off immediately.

"No seriously. I need a werewolf to take one look at me and go 'I'll have that.' Then claim me as their mate and never let me go." Eddie sighs, the hellfire boys erupting in chaos around him.

Normally, Eddie would join in, cause a ruckus. But he'd frozen after he'd spoken. His eyes glued to one Steve Harrington. Who had been taking a drink and promptly choked on said drink, his eyes wide when they landed on Eddie, beer or some other liquid dribbling down his chin as his cheeks flushed.

He was all the way in the kitchen, his friend Robin chattering away next to him, now wiping at his face. There's no way he could have heard Eddie. Not over the music, and the house full of shouting drunken teenagers.

Eddie watches as he finally tears his eyes away. He watches Steve grab Robin's wrist and yank her out of sight. If Eddie's lip reading was as good as it used to be, he'd said something along the lines of: "Robin. We need to go. Now."

But that didn't make any sense. Eddie was just joking. And Steve was all the way in the other room. Eddie sunk down into the couch, ignoring the way his stomach turned when he heard the front door open and close. There was no fucking way he heard him.

No fucking way.

Unless.

~°~

"Steve Harrington. Is not a werewolf. What the fuck are you even saying?" Gareth was nearly yelling now. They'd been having this conversation for almost an hour and it seemed he was at his wits end.

"Yes he is Gare! Yes he is! I would swear on it." Eddie shouts back, pointing at his friend from his position on the floor, his feet up on the couch next to Jeff. His toes wiggling under his arm every now and again to get warm.

"Swear on what!?" Gareth shrieked, his hands flailing into the air next to his head.

"Werewolves aren't real!" His voice is so squeaky now the neighbors dog has started barking.

"Jeff. Eric. You guys really not gonna help me with this?" He begs, holding his hands out to them, pleading.

"I mean..." Eric drawls, scratching at his ear.

"What?" Gareth asks, eyes narrowed.

"Maybe they are.... There was that thing with Chrissy." Eric says, his voice lilting as he looks in Jeff's direction.

"No. No no no no. We are not talking about that again either. Jeff did not see Chrissy Cunningham drinking blood." Gareth huffs, so frustrated now his face is turning red.

"I know what I saw." Jeff says with a shrug, his hand moving to Eddie's calf and rubbing it rapidly, trying to warm his cold leg for him. Eddie smiled at him and then looked back up at Gareth from the floor.

"He knows what he saw Gare. Chrissy is a fucking vampire. And Steve. Steve Harrington is a fucking werewolf. Possibly. The love of my life. Though that may be a tad unlikely. Given that he almost definitely doesn't like boys." Eddie pouts, and then startles when Gareth stomps over to look straight down at him.

"Oh is it? Is it unlikely because he doesn't like boys? Not because there's no such thing as FUCKING WEREWOLVES!?" Gareth full on yells it. His hands fisting in his hair.

"Gareth Eugene!" His mothers voice calls down the stairs.

"Sorry mom!" He yells back, turns on Jeff and Eddie when the laugh.

"It's not fucking funny. This is ridiculous. You're all ridiculous. It's not real. Fuck you guys." He hisses, keeping his voice low. Jeff and Eddie look at each other, then to Eric, all of them smile and shout,

"Gareth Eugene!" In unison. Gareth screams at them, tosses a few empty chip bags at them and throws himself into the emtpy chair next to Eric.

"You all sound, insane. You know that right?" He asks, sounding calm, and genuine again. Eddie shrugs, Eric laughs.

"Maybe you just need to open your mind?" Jeff suggests, brushing chip crumbs from his shirt.

"Open my mind? To vampires and werewolves?" He asks, arms crossed over his chest with a huff.

"Yes. Because if they exist. And mine and Jeff's crushes are one of each. Ugh. Shit." Eddie curses, his shoulder bumping the small table as he rights himself, slides his legs off the couch and kneels by the table instead.

"We could literally live our dreams." Eddie pleads, his fingers laced in front of him.

"Your dream. I don't have a dream about dating a vampire. Just dating Chrissy." He sighs, his eyes going glassy. Eddie waves him off, not even looking at him.

"I could literally live my dream. My dream of having a smoking hot werewolf boyfriend who wants to mark me and breed me and keep me forever." Eddie whines, Eric and Gareth both groaning at Eddie's details. Jeff gives no reaction, lost in his thoughts about Chrissy.

"You're crazy man. There are not secret supernatural creatures all over Hawkins. Is the whole basketball team werewolves? Is this fucking Teen Wolf? You think Steve is just gonna wolf out at the next game?" Gareth asks, his voice rising again. Eddie plops down onto his butt, elbows resting on the little table, chin in his hands.

"God that'd be great wouldn't it?" He sighs, eyes focusing over Eric's head like he can see it.

"Hey!" Gareth snaps his fingers in front of Eddie's face.

"Rude." Eddie swats at his hand.

"And who's next? Huh? Tommy and Carol? That dick Hargrove?" Gareth shoves a chip into his mouth chewing angrily. Eddie grimaces.

"Hargrove is not supernatural." Eddie shakes his head.

"He's a supernatural dick. Like... his asshole levels are way off the charts." Jeff chimes in, sinking to the floor next to Eddie and taking a swig of Eddie's mountain dew, Eddie nods in agreement.

"Yeah. He's definitely a peice of shit. But not in a supernatural way. Probably good. Honestly. Can you imagine?" Eddie's nose scrunches before he takes a drink as well. Even Gareth groans in agreement.

It's quiet for a moment. None of them talking. The occasional chip crunching or bag rustling, the pop of a soda can being opened. All of them just sitting, thinking, loudly, but in silence. And then Gareth breaks it, and his steadfast denial of it all.

"Okay. But seriously, if they're were vampires and werewolves in Hawkins we'd know about it! That's not something that could be kept secret." His voice is low now, his eyes moving over the boys around him.

"Is it?" He asks, looking slightly worried.

"I dunno. This town does have a long history of unexplained animal attacks." Eric chimes in, the three other heads in the room turn to look at him, slowly.

"What? I like history." He defends. They all go quiet again, for longer.

Eddie moving a few things here and there on the table. Jeff moving them right back just to frustrate him. Both of them slapping at each other. It devolves into a small wrestling match that Eddie wins by going completely limp on top of Jeff.

"Okay." Gareth breaks the silence again. Eddie and Jeff shuffle around, separating themselves from each other, ending up in the opposite spots as before, they notice, frown at each other, and then shrug, looking to Gareth again.

"Okay?" They ask, at the same time.

"Okay." Gareth nods, but holds his finger up at them. Their brows raised on their foreheads as they wait.

"But Steve Harrington. Is not cool enough. To be a fucking werewolf."

~°~

One week, three days, and ten hours later. The morning after the full moon. Eddie nearly hits Steve Harrington with his van.

Rain is pouring from the sky, his wipers on high, barely helping. He's heading for school, Wayne had sent him off on time after a nice plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

He didn't have any tests or quizzes today. And he'd actually remembered to do his homework. The morning was going well.

That's when the body appeared in the road just past his vision. He slammed on the breaks and had never been so happy that he'd been ripped off and over paid for new breakpads last month. The van skids to a halt, his headlights shining on the person, the naked person, in the road.

"What the fuck?" Eddie breathed. He slammed the van into park, grabbed the keys out, and jumped out into the pouring rain. He stopped, grabbed a blanket out of the back, that normally covered Gareth's drums when they traveled, and ran around the front of the van.

"Holy shit." Eddie felt like he'd been punched.

"Hi Eddie." Steve Harrington, naked, wet, waving up at him with a wiggly fingered wave, and holy shit was that blood.

"Is that blood?" Eddie blurts, his hands already shaking.

"Yeah." Steve says, like it's fine, like it's normal.

"Shit did I hit you?" Eddie falls to his knees, holds the blanet out to Steve. He eyes it, looks back to Eddie.

"You're naked." He says. Steve closes his eyes, sighs.

"Right. Thanks." He grabs the blanket, drags it around his waist as he tries to stand. The second he puts pressure on his leg he starts to fall again. Eddie ducks under his arm and catches him. Doing his best to ignore the way Steve's warm, wet, skin feels under his hands.

"Hospital?" He asks, helping Steve to the passenger door. Steve levels him with a look that tells him he should know better.

"Right. Okay. Sorry. Jeez. You just- You're bleeding kind of a lot dude." Eddie huffs, helps Steve into the van and grabs a towel from the glovebox.

His brows furrowed, he presses it to the very large fucking hole, in Steve's leg. He doesn't even flinch, his eyes locked on Eddie, and his slow, gentle movements. Steve's hand settling over his makes his whole body jerk.

"Thanks. I can do that." Steve says, softly. Eddie doesn't let go.

"You gotta put pressure on it." He says, eyes locked on the red seeping into the towel.

"I will." Steve nods, squeezes Eddie's wrist, trying to get his attention.

"Eddie?" He squeezes again, Eddies eyes move up his arm to his face.

"Yeah?" His eyes are wide.

"We gotta get outta here." Steve's own eyes widen, waiting for Eddie to understand. It doesn't take long. He whips his head around, trying to see into the trees around them, his hair completely soaked now, his bangs drooping into his eyes.

"Shit. Okay." He nods, turns back to Steve, hands over the towel to him and nods again.

"Okay. I got it." He says, not sure if he's talking to himself or Steve. Steve nods, fucking smiles, at him, and lets him shut the door.

Eddie runs around the van, jumps back in, starts her up, gets her turned around carefully, and drives.

"Did someone shoot you man?" Eddie asks after a moment, Steve groans as he presses the towel to his leg, hard, his knuckles going white.

"Yep. Sure did." Steve sounds... nonplussed. Like it's just, a normal fucking Tuesday. Which it isn't. It's very much not a normal Tuesday. Because Steve Harrington got shot. And now he's in Eddie's van bleeding. And besides all that it's fucking Friday.

Eddie's hands tense on the wheel, his own knckles white now as well. He's nodding. Just absently. His head knows Steve answered him, can't seem to from words to make his own answer just yet.

"You okay Eddie?" Steve asks, tugging the blanket around his waist more with his free hand. Eddie just keeps nodding.

"Where are you taking me?" Steve asks, seems to realize he wasn't going to get an answer to the previous question.

"Home." Is all Eddie says. He glances to his right, Steve's eyes are on him.

"Wayne'll know what to do. He'll help." Eddie nods, his eyes back on the road.

"He'll help." He says again, to no one in particular. Steve nods, bites his lip when pain shoots through his leg, doesn't quite manage to stiffle the groan of pain.

"Who fucking shot you Steve?" It's the first time he's used Steve's name, maybe ever, to his face at least. Steve snorts, it sounds like a laugh.

"Fucking Hargrove." He grunts, presses harder on his leg. Eddie's head whips to look at him, his wet hair slapping against his face.

"What? Shit. Really?" He asks, rapid fire. Steve closes his eyes and nods.

"Eyes on the road Ed's." Steve's lips turn up in a smile right before Eddie looks away, his eyes are still closed.

"Covered his scent somehow. I didn't smell him. Or hear him. Fucking asshole." Steve slams his fist against the dash, Eddie jumps, his whole body twitching, he refused to acknowledge the yelp that came out of his mouth.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Steve breathes deeply through his nose, like he's trying to stay calm.

"It's okay. I'd be pissed too if Billy Hargrove fucking shot me." Eddie says, quickly, the words falling out of his mouth faster than he can think them. Steve snorts again, and Eddie's sure he is laughing, as well as he can, through the pain.

"Wait, he drives that blue camero right?" Eddie asks, eyes locked on his rear view mirror.

"Yeah. Why?" Steve follows his gaze, then looks into the side mirror.

"Shit." He says, trying to sit up further, or turn around, or something.

"Put the seat back and lay down." Eddie says, his hand pointing across Steve's lap to the little lever on the side.

Steve does as he's told, the seat going nearly flat. Eddie reaches behind his seat and grabs his backpack, sets it genlty in Steve's lap. Anyone passing would just be able to see the top of it.

He pushes his tape back into the tapedeck and cranks the volume. His fingers drumming and his head bobbing to the music as Billy's car rumbles up behind them, fast. Eddie's lucky he even saw it at all in the rain.

He keeps his eyes forward, fingers drumming. Pretends not to notice Hargove's car pull along side him for a moment. He twitches his head to the side, does a double take and then scowls at him, motioning to the open road ahead of them. Clearly telling Hargrove to fucking pass him already.

He does. Flipping Eddie the bird as he goes. He does a u-turn in the middle of the road and speeds back past them, the water from his tires splashing across Eddie's windshield.

He flips the wipers back up and keeps his eyes on Billy's car until it disappears back into the rain. He grabs his bag off Steve's lap and sets it by his feet instead as Steve sits up with a groan. Pulling the lever again so the seat comes with him.

"That was pretty good." Steve sighs, leaning against the window. Eddie turns his music down.

"Don't sound so suprised. I sell drugs man. I have to act natural a lot. Plus, he almost ran me off the road last month, I was pretty sure he'd try and pass me anyway." Eddie shrugs, keeps both hands on the wheel and one eye on the road behind them.

"Why'd he shoot you?" Eddie asks, glancing at Steve and then back to the road. He'd swear Steve was smiling.

"Why do you think?" He asks, sounds tired. Eddie rolls to a stop at a four way, looks over at Steve, down to the towel on his leg soaked with blood. He pulls away slow, they're so close to home now, no need to draw attention.

"He doesn't know it's me, I don't think. Just that he shot a wolf. He's been trying since he got here. Hunting us." Steve sighs, readjustes himself in his seat again.

Eddie swallows, hard, his heart pounding. His knuckles flashing white again as he squeezes the steering wheel. He turns into Forest Hills, his foot that's not on the peddle is shaking now, his knee jumping and jerking.

He pulls up to the trailer slowly, cuts the lights and the engine, and turns slowly in his seat to face Steve.

"You're a werewolf." He exhales into the space between them.

"I'm a werewolf." Steve nods, gives him a pained, toothy, smile. Eddie nods back, keeps nodding, he's lost in it again. The nodding.

Steve's hand patting his cheek snaps him out of it. He jerks again, not used to being touched there, or anywhere, really. He sees Steve pull his hand back, swears he sees hurt in his eyes.

"Sorry. I know it's a lot. But I need to get this bullet out of my leg like, yesterday." Steve sighs, covers the hurt look with another pained smile.

"Right. Yeah. Of course. Hang tight." He pats Steve's knee genlty, hops out of the van, and yells for Wayne.

~°~

They get Steve inside no questions asked. Wayne carries him to the bathroom and sets him on the edge of the tub. Eddie grabs a pair of boxers from his drawer and brings them to Steve.

"Figured you don't wanna be naked while you do that." He shrugs. Steve shrugs back.

"I've done worse things naked." He says, a little smile on his lips. Eddie goes warm all over and nods, bumps into the door frame as he back out of the small room.

He watches Wayne roll his eyes at him. He shakes his head too, crossing his arms over his chest. Eddie mouths 'shut up'at him and goes to kitchen. Wayne walks up beside him while he tries to get Steve's blood out from under his nails.

"Hey." Wayne sets his hand on Eddie's shoulder, he twitches.

"You did good kid. Bringin him here." Wayne's voice is calm. Always calm with Eddie.

He's never heard the man yell, except maybe at the raccoons that live to dig through their trash and toss it all over the yard. Eddie swears he'd heard Wayne call them varmints once. But other than that, he's soft spoken, so different from Eddie's father. Eddie's grateful. Everyday.

"Yeah. He was just out in the road. I almost hit him." Eddie's lip wobbles and Wayne pulls him to his chest, his hand rubbing up and down Eddie's back.

"But you didn't. You stopped. And you saved him, sounds like, so..." he pulls back, cradles Eddie's face.

"Seems to me that's all that matters." He lifts his eyebrows, giving Eddie that look. Eddie nods, a little frantic, licks his lips, looks in the direction of the bathroom.

"Yeah. That's what matters." He nods again, wipes his hands on his shirt. Opens his mouth to thank his uncle when Steve calls his name.

"Go on. Go see to your boy." Wayne tilts his head in Steve's direction.

"Oh my god. He's not my- he can hear you." Eddie hiss/whispers at Wayne. He pulls his lips into his mouth, shrugs, looking like he could not be less sorry. Eddie hisses at him as he walks away, glaring. Wayne laughs behind him and starts a pot of coffee.

"You called?" Eddie teases when he gets to the bathroom, leans agaisnt the doorframe.

"You came." Steve teases back, his eyes locked on Eddie. Eddie flushes again, from head to fucking foot. He clears his throat, rubs at the back of his neck.

"Did you need something?" Eddie asks, his eyes on the floor now. He swears he hears Steve chuckle, but can't risk looking up to find a smiling, teasing Steve, he wouldn't survive it right now.

"Yeah. Two things actually. And you're not gonna like the second one." Eddie's eyes snap to Steve's face, he looks apologetic.

"What is it?" Eddie asks, shoving his hands into her pockets nervously.

"Well the first thing, I need you to call Jim Hopper. Tell him what happened. And that I'm here. And I'm safe. I am safe with you, right Eddie?" Steve looks up at him with wide eyes. Eddie nods, licks his lips, tries to do better.

"Yeah. Course. That thing, earlier? When you touched me. And I flinched." He jerks his head back, motioning behind him, into the past hour.

"That wasn't because of you and your- it wasn't cuz of that. I'm not afraid of you. I'm just not used to people touching me." Eddie babbles, knows that's probably not what Steve meant, probably not why he was asking if he was safe.

But that hurt look kept bouncing around Eddie's head and he had to say it, to tell him it wasn't because of Steve, any part of him. And it pays off, his babbling, for once, because Steve smiles, and his cheeks tint pink, and Eddie could look at that all day.

"Thanks." Steve mumbles, Eddie nods.

"Call Hopper. Got it. And the second thing?" He rocks up onto the balls of his feet and then back down, Steve looks up at him and grimaces.

"I need you to help hold this while I dig the bullet out." Steve taps the little homemade tourniquet he and Wayne had put together, resting right above the bullet wound. Eddie swallows, his throat suddenly very dry.

"O-okay." He stammers.

"Do you want Wayne to do it?" Steve asks, eyeing Eddie like he thinks he's gonna pass out. Eddie shakes his head, once to answer the question, and then again to clear it.

"Lemme go have Wayne call Hopper. And I'll be back. Should I bring more towels?" He asks, hand firmly planted on the doorframe as he leans into the bathroom, his eyes on the bloody towel in the sink.

"Maybe one more. And two glasses of water." Steve says, nods when Eddie does.

"What's the water for?" He asks, brow furrowed.

"To drink. Thought maybe you could use a glass too. I can hear your throat clicking from here." Steve teases, smiling again when Eddie nods frantically and ducks out of the bathroom.

"You can probably hear my throat clicking from across town." He mutters to himself, grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet.

"Not quite that far. Maybe a few blocks, if I really focus." Steve calls from the bathroom.

"Jesus Christ." Eddie mutters, hears Steve laugh. He shakes his head, fills the glasses, gives Wayne his instructions for Hopper, shoves a towel under his arm, and waddles carefully back to the bathroom, hands full.

"There ya go." Eddie hands him a glass, tries not to stare at his throat when Steve chugs it, startles when Steve looks at him and chugs half his own glass.

"Where should I..." he trails off, looking around the bathroom.

"On your knees." Steve points to the space next to him, Eddie obeys immediately, his knees hitting the floor hard. His bites his lip, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, using all his willpower to not look at Steve right now, in this moment.

"That was-"

"Don't. Just- please don't. I'm mortified, can we just..." Eddie waves his hand towards Steve's wounded thigh.

"Mhm. We can." He says, and Eddie swears he sounds like he's trying not to laugh. Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Nothing wrong with obeying orders well." Steve says, his voice hushed as Eddie scoots closer. He freezes, his eyes finally looking up, Steve is staring at him. Eddie gulps, Steve's eyes drop to his throat and jump back up.

"Put your hands here." Steve guides him, shows him where to hold the tourniquet, how to pull but not too tight. His fingers move over the back of Eddie's hands, leaving the faintest tracks of blood on his skin as Steve whispers,

"Good boy." Against Eddie's ear.

"Jesus H Christ." Eddie shutters, his shoulders tensing.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist." And Steve fucking winks at him. Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs, Steve laughs, shakes his head, and then rolls his shoulders.

"You don't have to watch." Steve says, serious now. Eddie nods, but finds he can't look away.

Steve's hand rests on his thigh, as Eddie watches his nails grow dark, and long, and sharp. Thick claws now where his nails used to be. Eddie watches as Steve moves, presses his finger into the hole in his leg and digs. He shoves his thumb in along side it, blood blooms bewteen his fingers and Eddie tightens his hold.

The whimper Steve lets out is what draws Eddie's eyes away. Away from the claws and the blood. They land on Steve's face, his features pinched in pain. He grits his teeth and Eddie sees fangs, too sharp teeth filling Steve's mouth as he groans.

"Steve?" Eddie's voice is airy, his throat tight.

"I'm alright. Almost got it." Steve grunts through his teeth, his jaw clentched.

"Okay. Be careful." Eddie whispers. Steve snorts again, pulls his thumb and finger back out of the wound with a whine, something shiny held between them.

He sags, his body drooping with relief. He holds the bullet out, Eddie moves, slowly lets go of the tourniquet, and holds out his hand.

"Don't lose that." Steve cautions, pausing before he drops it into Eddie's palm. Eddie nods, drops it into the cup near his toothbrush and moves back to Steve's side.

"What now?" He asks, hands hovering, not sure where to land. Steve looks at him, hooks his fingers under the tourniquet and winks at Eddie again.

"Now. I heal." He slips the rags off his leg. Eddie watches as one small pulse of blood bubbles up out of the wound, and then he watches as the edges close, the skin knitting itself back together. Steve wipes a towel over his leg, clearing the blood, and the wound is gone.

"Holy shit." Eddie says, breathless. His eyes jump to Steve face and he smiles.

"You're amazing." He breathes, and then smiles wider when his cheeks tint pink again.

"Ya think so? Most people wouldn't agree." Steve says, but he's smiling too.

"Well most people are idiots. And objectively you're probably weird as shit. But I love weird shit." Eddie shrugs, rubs at his neck when Steve just stares at him, feels himself going red again and stands. Offers his hand to Steve, helps him to his feet. He stumbles forward, Eddie catches him with his hands on his waist, feels his cheeks go impossibly hotter.

"You're hearts always beating so fast. Is that cuz of me?" Steve whispers, his hand settling on Eddie's chest, right over his fluttering heart. Eddie swallows, manages a nod before his resolve leaves him and he steps away from Steve hastily.

"You can shower if you want. I'm gonna- I'll go find you some clean clothes." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, bounces off the doorframe and bolts down the small hallway to his room.

He falls onto the edge of his bed, his legs wobbly, his chest aching, and his lungs somehow not pulling in enough air. He smiles when he hears the shower start, tries not to picture Steve in there showering. And shit, he forgot.

"The warm waters a little tricky. You gotta turn it all the way up and then lower it back down." He says, not too loud, wanting to know if Steve will hear him. He hears the tell squeak of the warm water handle and then Steve calls,

"Thanks!" Through the thin walls. Eddie bites his lip and falls back onto his bed, his head buzzing. He can't wait to tell Jeff. Oh, he sits up, thinking, he should ask about Chrissy. See if Jeff was right. All signs seem to be pointing that way.

He opens his mouth to ask when there's a knock at the door.An aggressive knock. More like someone pounding and trying to get in.

Eddie's up in a flash, but when he gets to the living room Wayne is near the door, his hand held out to Eddie, stopping him.

"It's not Hopper." Wayne mouths, and that's when Eddie sees the gun in his hand. Wayne's old shotgun. He'd only seen it once. When he turned 17, Wayne showed him where it was, and how to load and use it, in case of emergencies only.

Eddie's body tenses, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He can hear the shower running behind him. Hopes Steve is listening too.

"Open the door Munson! I know you've got him in there!" Hargove's taunting voice calls. A shiver runs down Eddie's spine, he shakes his head instinctively. He sees Wayne do the same. His uncle waves him down again, his palm held out towards Eddie, he lowers it slowly: stay calm. Eddie nods.

Wayne opens the door, keeps his shotgun hidden off to the side.

"Ain't nobody here but us. I think you should leave. We don't want any trouble." Wayne tells him calmly, his voice steady as he clicks the saftey off the gun in his hand. Eddie's breathing is shallow. He hears a snort from outside.

"Yeah right. You're Munson's. All you know is trouble. And you stepped in it big this time." Hargrove snarls.

"Now hand over that fuckin monster you got in there. And maybe I won't teach that little freak of yours a lesson for takin what's mine."

Eddie watches Wayne's knuckles go white where they're holding the door, watches the door shake as he grips it tight.

"Police are already on their way boy. You best be on yours before you get hurt." Wayne's voice is still calm. Too calm. Eddie's never heard him sound that way before. He can feel the anger just beneath the surface, his anger boils there too.

Wayne starts to say something else when Hargrove jumps forward, slams his body against the door, almost through it. Wayne stumbles backward, caught off guard just enough for Hargrove to get the drop on him. He grabs Wayne's arm, tugs him forward and headbutts him.

Eddie's stomach twists at the sound, as he watches Wayne fall to the floor. He knows he can't get to the gun. But Hargrove could. Doesn't seem to care about it though. His eyes land on Eddie, cold and empty, his jaw clenched. Eddie turns, makes for his bedroom. He feels Hargrove's hand slam down on his shoulder and screams.

"Steve help m-" Billy's knuckles slam into his cheek, he feels his lip split when his face hits the ground. Feels Hargrove move over him, and then away. His shadow there and then gone, quick as a flash. Eddie looks up, hears a low growl, and sees Hargrove against the wall, his feet almost a foot above the ground, Steve's clawed hand around his throat, holding him there.

His mouth is full of fangs again, his skin covered in fur now, not completely, just a thin layer, and his eyes seem to glow in the low light of the trailer. Eddie scrambles to his knees, hears another growl.

"Touch him again and I willl rip you apart." The words rumble deep in Steve's chest. Hargrove chokes and gags as Steve squeezes him tighter.

"Sounds like a great plan kid. But how bout you let me handle the rest huh?" A new voice. Eddie startles, tries too fast to turn and ends up on his back. Footsteps approach him and he's look up at Sheriff Hopper.

"You alright kid?" He asks, Eddie nods, his chest clenches.

"My uncle-"

"Already back on his feet kid. C'mon." Hopper extends his hand. Eddie takes it, lets the big man yank him to feet easily. Eddie suspects he may be a wolf himself. Or something else.

"Steve. Let him go." Hopper says, slow, like he's talking Steve down. He still has Hargrove against the wall, he's only wearing the boxers Eddie gave him. His skin is all skin again, but his claws are still out, his fangs pushing at his lips, his chest is heaving.

Eddie watches Hopper move toward him, Steve growls, low in his throat, Hargrove struggles as his fingers tighten, Hopper stops.

"Hey. Kid. I know. Alright. I get. He hurt your friend."

Another low growl, deeper, more feral, Steve's brow furrows.

"Oh. Shit. Okay." Hopper sighs, glances at Eddie.

"You're okay right?" He asks, leaning into Eddie's space a bit, Eddie thinks he sniffs him.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I'm good." Eddie nods, his eyes going back to Steve when Hopper's do.

"Your boys okay. Just a split lip. Nothin serious. He's okay." Hopper reassures, takes a few small steps forward. Steve twitches with each one. His grip on Hargrove's throat still tight.

"Steve I'm okay. You can let go now." Eddie tries. He watches the muscles in Steve's arm relax, but only a little. Eddie shakes his head, makes a decision. He steps forward, dodges Hopper when he reaches for him.

"Kid don't-"

"It's fine." Eddie dismisses. He walks up to Steve, gets close, Eddie moves his hand over his arm slowly, letting Steve feeling him.

"I'm right here. I'm okay." He soothes, fingers pressing into Steve's hot skin. But it works, his body relaxes, he loosens his hold on Hargrove, lets him slide down the wall til his feet touch the floor, but doesn't let go.

"Fuckin'... freak." Hargrove gasps, glaring at Eddie, eyes full of hate.

"Shut up." Eddie and Steve speak in unison, but Steve yanks him forward, then slams him back. His head hits the wall and Steve lets him go. He falls to floor, unconscious.

Steve turns to Eddie then, teeth too big for his mouth. His lips pushed out in a pout around his fangs, and he whines, his hand lifting to touch Eddie's lip, his claws receding back into his nails before his fingers touch Eddie.

He licks the blood from Eddie's lip off his fingers and then grabs for him, pulling him against his chest with a whine, clinging to him as he nuzzles into Eddie's neck. Eddie gulps, wraps his arms around Steve slowly, awkwardly, does his best to hold on. To soothe him.

Once Steve's calmed a bit he pulls back. Eddie looks down, Billy's body is gone. He turns to look behind him, Wayne and Hopper are sitting on the couch, watching some old movie. Eddie's brow furrows. How fucking long had Steve been holding onto him?

"Sorry. I didn't mean to, like, trap you." Steve clears his throat. Eddie turns back to him, he looks embarrassed. Eddie smiles, cups his cheek.

"It isn't a trap if it's somewhere I wanna be. Is it?" Steve looks uncertain for a moment, his eyes darting around Eddie's face, looking for something, Eddie's sure. He either finds, or doesn't, because he smiles so brightly it nearly blinds Eddie.

"Really?" He asks, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Yeah. Kinda had a crush on you since like, fuckin forever. Seventh grade or something stupid." Eddie shrugs.

"Fifth grade." Wayne calls from the couch, Eddie rounds on him, he hadn't even looked away from the tv.

"Oh my god what does it matter! Bud out would you? I'm having a moment!" Eddie hisses, watches Wayne smile into his cup of coffee. He opens his mouth to snark some more but Steve's hand turning his face back to him stops him.

"Fifth grade?" Steve asks. Eddie rolls his eyes, sighs, nods.

"Yeah."

"Wha- Why?"

"You gave me a rock." Eddie huffs, bites into his lip.

"I gave you..." Steve gasps, his hands moving to Eddie's waist and tugging.

"I gave you a rock!" He says, excited. Eddie nods.

"I know. I was there." He rolls his eyes, teasing. Steve looks at him, for a long moment.

"Did you keep it?" He sounds so hopeful. Behind them, Wayne snorts and then clears his throat. Eddie groans, loud, and long. Wayne and Hopper both chuckle.

"Of course I kept it. I'm a big gay loser and a pretty boy gave me a rock. It's on my nightstand." Eddie admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat.

But then Steve is nuzzling against his cheek and he decides he doesn't care if he's a loser. That pretty boy was a werewolf, and apparently this werewolf thinks of Eddie as his. And he could definitely get used to that.

"You kept it." Steve hums, presses his nose into Eddie's throat and nearly fucking purrs with delight, his chest rumbling against Eddie's, making his heart flutter.

"Alright kid. We gotta get this sorted. Get that bullet. We'll get this delt with. And you can come back here and... well you can come back here. The rest is none of my business." Hopper declares, clapping his hands once, as he stands and moves to the door.

Steve pulls back, nods, and ducks back into the bathroom. Eddie brings him some clothes and then he's gone. Riding away in Hoppers cruiser, an unconscious Billy Hargrove in the backseat, bound and gagged, for good measure.

Wayne moves to stand beside him as he watches them drive away. His arm wraps around Eddie's shoulders and tugs him close.

"Rough day kid." Wayne says, giving him a squeeze.

"Yeah. Not all bad though." Eddie considers, drops his head on Wayne's shoulder.

"Definitely not. C'mon," Wayne gives his shoulder a pat.

"Let's get this house cleaned up before your boy gets back."

Eddie nods, follows him back inside, and starts cleaning. There's woodchips all over the hallway, Steve had shattered the door coming out to help Eddie and Wayne. Eddie suppresses a shiver at the thought.

But has trouble not thinking about the way Steve had been so mad because Billy had hurt him, hurt Eddie. Not his friend. He'd been mad about that word too. Not his friend. Just his.

Eddie swept the floor and tidied his room and let the feeling of being Steve's surround him. Let it fill his head and his chest. Let it lift him up off the floor, his body floating when he finally fell into bed to wait for Steve. His Steve.

~°~

Eddie wakes to gentle hands on his shoulder. He lets go of his pillow and rolls to find Steve, on his knees on the matress behind him. He scrambles to sitting, hands reaching for Steve, met with Steve's own out stretched hands.

"You came back." Eddie mumbles, still drowsy. Steve smiles, soft.

"Course I did. Nowhere else I'd rather be." He whispers, presses forward, his face so so close.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, Eddie feels his breath rush over his skin.

"You want too?" Eddie asks, because his brain still hasn't quite caught up, isn't sure this isn't just a dream.

"Eddie." Steve says name the way no one ever has, all longing and need, curled at the edges from exasperation.

"Yeah Steve?" Eddie's trembling now, his hands shaking in his lap. Steve takes them in his, like he can read Eddie's mind.

"I've wanted to kiss you for awhile now. Even before I heard what you said at that party." Steve whispers the last bit, his mouth curving into a smirk, his eyes twinkling. Eddie's own eyes widen and then squeeze shut as he groans, takes his hands from Steve's and hides his face.

"You did hear me. I knew it oh my goooodddd." He rolls onto his back, rolling side to side on the bed, bumping Steve with his thighs everytime he rolls toward him. The laugh Eddie's dramtics pull out of Steve is beautiful, it makes Eddie feel like flying.

He drops his hands to his stomach and looks up at Steve. Steve looks right back, his eyes soft, his mouth curved just so in a small smile.

"I wanna kiss you so bad Steve." Eddie admits, his fingers drumming on his stomach. Steve's nose scrunches.

"Yeah? You sure?" Eddie tilts his head, trying to read the sudden change in Steve. His confidence seeming to fail him.

"Did you think I would genuinely say no to you?" Eddie asks, pushing himself up to sitting, so he can see Steve better. Steve picks at a loose thread on Eddie sheet, lifts one shoulder, drops it again.

"Who the fuck could say no to you?" Eddie wonders aloud, just a breathed out question.

"Not everyone can love a monster." The words fall past Steve's lips with sadness, his voice thick with it. Eddie's heart aches for him.

"Hey. You're not a monster." Eddie shakes his head, Steve levels him with such a bitchy look, it nearly takes Eddie's breath away. He snorts and holds up his hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay tech-... technically you- you are a monster." Eddie rests his hands on Steve's knees.

"Like in the, literal, old movie wolfman monster, definition. Then yes. Sure. You're a monster." Eddie shrugs, shakes Steve's knees until he's wobbling back and forth with Eddie.

"But that doesn't mean you're a monster." Eddie shakes his head.

"And hey, even if you are. You've come to the right place. Eddie Munson, monster fucker extraordinaire!" He does a little jazz hands display before pointing at himself. He can see Steve fighting a smile.

"I mean not that I've... fucked a monster... before..." he trails off, eyes on the ceiling, thinking. He snaps his fingers, points at Steve.

"But I am willing! And hopefully," he wiggles his fingers in Steve's direction,

"Able." He smiles awkwardly, his eyes dropping to Steve's crotch and then back up, his cheeks flushing when Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

"Willing and able. That's me." Eddie points both his thumbs at himself, Steve's lip twitches. Eddie clasps his hands in front of him.

"Please say something so I can stop talking." Eddie begs through a helpless breathy laugh. Steve drags his teeth over his lower lip and shakes his head slowly, moves closer, presses into Eddie's space.

"No... you're not gonna say anything? Or no... umm... wh- what did I say after that?" Eddie stammers as Steve keeps moving, one hand on Eddie's chest, pressing him back into the matress, the other ending up near Eddie's head, supporting Steve as he hovers over Eddie.

"I like when you talk." Steve says, tossing his leg over Eddie, sitting on his thighs. Eddie nods, feeling a little frantic.

"Oh well thats good. Cuz I'm notorious for not knowing when to shut the fuck up. Now being one of those times I fear. Pretty sure. My mouth literally will not stop moving." The nervous laugh that comes out of him just makes Steve smile more, but it's different, sharp at the edges. Eddie realizes what the look is and gulps, Steve leans over him, chest to chest now, nose to nose. He looks hungry.

"I'm almost certain I can find something that will shut you up." Steve fucking purrs, his finger dragging down over Eddie's lips, his hand moving to cup Eddie's cheek. Eddie's eyes flick down between them and then back up.

"I mean we gotta try right? There's gotta be somethin- mmphf! Mmmm." Steve kisses him, presses his lips to Eddie's like he's trying to swallow his words. Eddie hums into it, hands moving to Steve's neck, his shoulders, his back. His hands move everywhere, feather light touches, not sure where to land. Steve pulls back, rests his forehead against Eddie's.

"I really like you." He sighs, his eyes squeezed tight, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. Eddie watches him, eyes closed, trying to stay calm.

"I really like you too. That's why I kept the rock. And the bird you drew me in seventh grade." Steve's eyes open, he looks down at Eddie, brow furrowing.

"And the poem you wrote freshman year, about wanting to be a wolf." Eddie leans up, presses his lips to Steve's forhead.

"Kinda cheated on that one didn't ya?" Eddie whispers, wraps his arms around Steve as he settles in his lap. Steve gasps when Eddie kisses down his neck.

"I kept the sweatshirt you gave me at the football game too.Sophomore year. It's tucked away in my closet." He kisses back up, eyes closing on a hum as Steve pushes his hands up under Eddie's shirt, needing to touch him.

"I used to take it out and just hold it. And smell it. But it stopped smelling like you. Years ago." Eddie breathes against his lips, Steve whimpers into his mouth.

"I like you so much." Eddie whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's lips.

"You being a werewolf isn't gonna change that." He kisses Steve's cheeks, his left one twice, once for each freckle.

"If anything, it will make my feelings, monumentally stronger. Like it'll be disconcerting. It's gonna make people uncomfortable." He kisses Steve's eyelids as he laughs, squirms in Steve's arms when his hands work their way into the back of his pajama pants.

"I'm gonna be obsessed with you." Eddie whispers, kissing down Steve's nose and across his lips again. Steve whines again, chases his lips, Eddie puts two fingers across them, to shush him, groans when Steve pulls them into his mouth and sucks, his cheeks hollowing as he blinks at Eddie, eyes hooded and needy.

"Jesus okay. There's is- there is a 'but' coming." Eddie gasps, Steve smirks around his fingers but lets them go.

"What's the but?" Steve asks, pouting as he moves his hands up Eddie’s back again. Eddie snorts and kisses his cheek again.

"I just-" he stops, takes a deep breath. His stomach twisting. He feels Steve's hand on his chest and opens his eyes, Steve tilts his head like a puppy.

"Your hearts beating fast again." He says, quiet, like he's talking to himself.

"I'm nervous." Eddie says, straight to the point. Steve tilts his head the other way.

"Nervous to be with me?" Steve's thumb soothes over Eddie's chest, through his shirt.

"Nervous cuz- I've never done this." Eddie bites his lip.

"I kinda figured you were a virgin ya know." Steve shrugs, noses at Eddie's neck. Eddie puts his hands on Steve's chest and pushes him back genlty.

"Umm... excuse me?" Eddie scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

"What? Virgins smell different." Steve says, like it's a normal thing to say.

"Ew. What? Why?" Eddie asks, his fingers tangling in Steve shirt as he laughs, his arms winding around him and pulling him closer.

"Dunno. Never asked. It's just true. You smell so good anyway but that part," Steve shivers, looks down at him.

"It's just sweet. You smell sweet." Steve smiles down at him, kisses his cheek, runs his fingers over the spot after.

"Okay well, that's all... a lot of information. But what I meeeeant," Eddie drawls, poking Steve in the chest.

"Is that I've never been in a relationship before. Like, not a real one. Not like this. And I'm just scared I guess. Cuz you're like, a fucking dream." Eddie sighs, Steve smiles.

"And I have a very long history of categorically fucking up everything good that happens to me. And I don't wanna do that here. With you. I want-" Eddie frowns, Steve moves, pulls them to the bed and rolls them, so they're facing each other.

"What do you want?" Steve asks, his fingers moving over Eddie's forhead, soothing the frown and then moving into his hair.

"I want you. I want to keep you." Eddie worries at his lip, Steve moves his thumb over it, drags it from between Eddie's teeth and soothes over the hurt.

"I wanna keep you too. We don't have to do anything right now. I just needed to be with you. After today." Steve says, shrugs his shoulder and curls closer.

"We can just- do this? Just be together?" Eddie asks, hesitant, his eyes falling closed as Steve hums,

"Mhm. We can just hold each other." Steve moves his fingers deeper into Eddie's hair, pulls him to his chest. Eddie clings to him, arms wrapped tight, hears that fucking rumble in Steve's chest again.

"Are you actually purring or does it just sound like it?" Eddie mumbles sleepily into Steve's chest. He feels him laugh, feels him pull Eddie impossibly closer.

"Hopper refuses to call it that. But I like it. I've only done it once before today though." Steve sighs, Eddie perks up, rests his chin on his arms and looks at Steve.

"When was the other time?" Eddie asks, eyes blinking slowly. Steve reaches up, tucks Eddie's hair behind his ear.

"With my friend Robin. You know her. From band." Eddie nods. Steve nods back.

"Yeah well. I came out to her last year and she was so excited, and happy, and accepting. She made me a cake. I mean it was terrible. But she made it just for me." Steve laughs, Eddie smiles down at him, waiting for more.

"And after, she told me she was proud of me. And that she loved me. And that's when it happened. I think it happens when you find your people. Like, my wolf just knows, when it's right." Steve's eyes won't stay on him, and he looks nervous again.

"She's like your platonic soulmate huh?" Eddie asks, pushing his finger around Steve's chest, drawing little nothings here and there. But he feels the tension leave Steve, feels him relax underneath him.

"Yeah. She is." He nods, eyes locked on Eddie now, his are shining with tears. Eddie nods, scoots a little closer, further up Steve's chest.

"I have one too. Jeff. He's in Hellfire with me. We're like two trippy peas in a far out pod." Steve scrunches his nose, lifts his head and kisses Eddie, sweet and soft.

"Thanks for understanding." Steve breathes.

"Sure. Give me enough time and I can understand anything. That ones easy though. I'm glad you have someone like that too." Eddie drops back down onto Steve's chest, gets comfy.

An hour later Steve manhandles him onto his side and presses up against his back, arms wrapped around Eddie like vines, keeping him close. Eddie shivers at being tossed around, even more at being held like he's something precious. He feels Steve smirk into his neck, feels that rumble again.

He smiles into Steve's arm, presses his lips to his skin and lets himself fall asleep, feeling loved, and wanted, and like he belongs to someone.

~°~

Eddie finds out later that Jeff was right. Chrissy absolutely is a vampire. And a good friend of Steve's. Eddie, Steve, and Robin may or may not parent trap them into several ridiculous situations before Chrissy finally tells them her and Jeff have been dating for almost three weeks now.

Eddie swears he knew. Steve can hear him lying. But let's him have it anyway. Robin refuses to let it go and constantly claims that the first time she meddled was three weeks ago which means she got them together which means she wins the bet.

Eddie remains unaware that there was even an actual bet going on. He just thought they were trying to make their friends happy. Steve can hear him telling the truth, and loves him for it.

Steve holds Eddie close almost every night, so so glad he heard Eddie talking at that party. And so so glad he'd told Robin, two weeks before that party, that he was gonna ask Eddie out. That he wanted to keep him forever.

She'd made fun of him of course. Eddie Munson? Really? But Steve had pressed on. Something about that sweet smell drawing him in.

And even after Steve claims him. Even after Eddie is his and no one elses. To Steve, he still smells so sweet, like the first rain of spring. Likes Steve's favorite fruit. Like Steve's. Like home.

#my writing #mine #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #this got so fucking long oh myyyyy goooodddd #I hope you like it friend!!!#im gonna take a nap now! be back in several hours!!!!#werewolf steve harrington #also a side of #jeff x chrissy #my fic

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yawnderu · 4 months

Text

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

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redcoralpot · 6 months

Text

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader

Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.

Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1.55K

Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!

Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?

So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”

Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam.

His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”

“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”

“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.

Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home.

Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.

He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.

By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.

“Mike Schmidt?”

He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”

“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”

“You mentioned that.”

The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”

“Do you have any actual experience with it?”

“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”

“Why did you stop?”

“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.

“A pizzeria?”

You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”

He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.

Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.

Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.

Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“F-fuck.” He whispered.

His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself.

He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?

Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.

Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his.

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.

That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath.

The stain was going to be hard to explain.

#x male reader #male reader #male y/n #gay #fnaf movie #fnaf #michael afton #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x male reader #bottom character #top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader

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scremogirl · 7 months

Text

✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★ ???

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞

Yandere Student Council Pres x Nonchalant reader

I’m not sure if I should retitle this to Yandere! Childhood friend x reader or not. There’s not a lot of the fact he’s the SCP shown in the story. I felt like I went a little off track. I got so consumed in writing😭. I already have a post like that on my page so I didn’t want to make it confusing. I don’t know if I should’ve said unemotional reader either. Idk let me know what you think. Have fun reading!

He was at the top of the food chain. Good grades, teachers liked him, students feared him, rich, good looking, and most importantly; the student council president. With that being said, why wouldn’t he leave you alone?

Takenya was a stuck up priss in your opinion. Always lecturing you about things you could do in order of improvement. You weren’t popular but you weren’t one of those weird Naruto kids that sat in the back of the class and ate crayons either. You just existed. Someone so average at everything somehow attracted the most “perfect” guy in school. Your grades were fine; a straight A-B student with the occasional C here and there. Your attendance on the other hand… well maybe he’s not so wrong about that, but who actually wants to be at school anyways?

“I don’t understand why you don’t try harder? You could easily surpass most of our class,”

“You need to come to school. This behavior would never pass in the real world. What would your employer think of you just not showing up?”

“Chocolate for lunch…really? If you want to stay healthy you’ll need to-“

Why does he care so much anyways? Sure, you used to be friends in like what, fifth grade? You used to get bullied in school for being different. You just didn’t like the things that kids your age were supposed to like. But… it never bothered you. You weren’t emotionless per se, it’s just, why care what others have to think?

Mellisa Grey. The girliest of all girls. She used to have it out for you when you were younger. Calling you names and bumping your shoulder whenever you walked by. You put up with it until the end of the year; fifth grade graduation. That evening she and her crew thought it’d be funny to pour milk on the shy little nerdy boy in your class. Some spilled on your dress, that you didn’t mind, but the tears of the boy next to you made you. Something inside of you just snapped. You shot up from your seat grabbing a first full of her hair and slammed her head onto the wooden table. Not stopping until you saw the wire of her pink, sparkly braces fly out her mouth. Well, that was what you wanted to do; the teachers came too early for you to inflict any further damage. The most you got was a broken nose and a lawsuit. She transferred schools after that, and you got the whoopin of a lifetime. You didn’t care. You didn’t feel bad at all. If anything you felt elated seeing her in pain and the rage on her parents faces as the cussed child you out. You didn’t cry or yell when your parents picked you up. You weren’t phased by the belt or the palm of your mothers hand striking you. You didn’t feel anything. So why were you so upset on someone else's behalf anyways?

You knew this kid. I mean, how couldn’t you when he would follow you around 24/7.

“H-Hi… my names Takenya” you just blankly stared. His sheepish gaze barely meets yours from behind his big fat glasses.

“…Do I know you?”

“Well…no. But I know you!”

“Good for you I guess.” You continued to go back and forth on the swing, not acknowledging the boy's existence at all. The swing he sat on remained stationary, never once dropping his gaze from you.

“Uhm… I just wanted to thank you for yesterday,” Hm? What was he talking about? He saw the confusion in your face when you turned around to ask and beat you to the point.

“You probably don’t know me. We’re not in the same class,” Right. So why is he talking to you? Again, before you could ask he cut you off.

“The other day when recess started you helped me pick up all of my stuff after Carter pushed me down; remember? I-I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me” Ohhh, you do remember him now. He was that shy little rich kid that transferred here at the end of fourth grade. He didn’t have many friends, let alone any at all. Everyone had grown up with each other and formed friend groups at this poin. He was a little late to the party so he didn’t fit in. He wasn’t worried about the next episode of Ninjago and didn’t find humor in looking up the words penis and vagina in the dictionary at the school library when the teacher wasn’t looking. His hair long, tied back into a neat ponytail and not buzzed into a Mohawk like half the boys in your grade. He had glasses that almost covered the entirety of his upper face. He always ate his pb&js on whole wheat instead of white and preferred celery sticks over fruit snacks. So, just like you, he got bullied just because he was different.

“Oh yea. I remember you now. You’re welcome by the way,” he grinned. The first time you saw him smile ever since he came to your school.

That marked the day of a long friendship.

That was until you went to middle school. You think puberty had something to do with it. He grew into his face more and sized down those jellyfishing glasses. His scrawny figure gained slightly more bulk and dressed in a more modern fashion. His hair remained the same; a bit shorter than before but still longer than most guys. You’ve always liked his hair. He would let you braid it sometimes when he was too distracted playing on his DS. He didn’t get acne like many of the other kids your grade either, skin smooth and clear. All the girls found him to die for. Your nonchalant behavior rubbed off on him and he became more confident in himself. Not letting his elementary school self be reflected into now. He became a bit too obsessed with his studies for a middle schooler; pushing all his ways on you. He would always follow you around blabbing about not attending gym class. He even started hanging around the same snotty rich kids he would complain to you about. You became annoyed. So you cut him off. Just like that. Stopped talking to him, answering his texts, not sitting with him at lunch or in class. Even after all the rejection at his advances, he came running back to you. Not willing to let you go so easily.

The school bell rings signaling the end of 4th pd and beginning of lunch. You were planning to go off campus today and not come back. Keys in hand you make your way to the student parking lot. However, someone’s blocking the exit. He’s gotten taller, about 6’2-6’3; sleeper build accommodating his height. Glasses thinner and sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Hair as long as ever, tyed back with that same white ribbon you gave him years ago; revealing an undercut. He fixes the collar of his button up and readjusts his tie and vest.

“And exactly…just where do you think your going?”

“To lunch,”

“The cafeteria is that way,” he points with a slender finger, decorated by a diamond ring. It shimers under the lights above reflecting against his matching earrings.

“Off campus,” he raises his eyebrow, folding his arms.

“Knowing you, you won’t come back. You do realize your request for a half day schedule is still pending right? You also recognize that I’m the one who assists the principal in granting them as well?” You don’t answer him, already knowing we're going with this.

“As I said before, your attendance needs improving before I-… we can grant it,” what a pain in the ass this guy is. You try to walk past him but he stops you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t eat school lunch. I’ll be back after,” he gives you an unamused look. Hand gripping your shoulder a little tighter as you try to take another step.

“You know I can’t let you do that. Not unless you don’t want a new schedule,” he pauses.

“Not unless I come with you,” you look up.

“You’re paying?” His eyes widened slightly, shocked at your willingness. But he can’t be too surprised, he knows you don’t care about anything unless you get what you want.

“Of course I am. You need to spend your money on other priorities; like a new math textbook,” you ignore the subtle jab and walk to his car. No need to ask where as he parks next to you everyday to make sure he knows you’ve actually show up. Definitely not because your the first thing he wants to see in the morning.

“I don’t understand why you come to McDonald’s of all places,” he lets out a sigh, handing his card to the drive through worker. He drives up to the next window waiting for the food.

“It’s not healthy. You seriously should consider my offer in taking you to that new place down the street,”. He looks over when he doesn’t get a response; noticing the music blasting from your headphones as you look at the door. He sighs again before taking the food from the workers hand and grabbing your headphones. You turn your head to look at him but your gaze shifts to the bag in his hand. You reach over and grab a fry out of the bag and he s his eyes. Pulling into the parking lot, he silently watches you eat. This brings him so much nostalgia. He misses eating lunch with you everyday. Ranting while you just sit there and chew. He misses having someone listening to him about something that’s not related to school. After you stopped *attempted* talking to him in the beginning of 7th grade, his heart felt like it got ripped out of his chest.

He’s never felt anything his whole life. His father would tell him that one day he’ll find someone who makes him feel everything, makes life worth it. He’d seen the love shared between his parents everyday. He always wanted that. In the fourth grade all of that came true. He saw you getting off the bus making your way to school. He saw the way you helped up Michael Lemitzki, a dorky little boy, after Conner pushed him down. Shaggy hair, braces lining his teeth, comic books all on the floor. How pathetic. You weren’t scared of Conner at all. He was bigger than you and more popular than you, but you didn’t care. You kept a straight face as he threatened you and held your composure. No emotion showing whatsoever.

He thought you were beautiful. It was love at first sight. He was too busy staring at you to hear his father calling out to him. He followed his son's gaze to you. He looked back down at the small boy and gave a knowing smile. Takenya just stared at the other boy hugging you with tears down his face. Why is he touching you like that? Push him away already! That day he purposely made himself a target to the bullying of Melissa and Conner. Hoping that one day, you’ll save him the same way you did Jacob. He got bigger glasses, grew his hair out, and started dressing like the typical “nerd”. He would leave candies in your cubby, prized limited edition Pokémon cards in your backpack, brand new color pencils and markers showed up around you. He started to lose hope though. Why haven’t you noticed him yet!? Sure he’s never actually talked to you.. but still! Could you not see his effort?! Did you not care? He sat alone at recess that fateful day. He was randomly pushed down, papers and crayons flying out his small hands. He wasn’t in the mood for Connors teasing today. To caught up on the fact that the love of his life may never see him they way he’s dreamed of. Oh the dramatic mind of a fifth grader. He clutched the safety scissors that flew out of his pencil pouch watching the dick of an elementary schooler turn around. He was about to get up but stopped as he saw someone bend down beside him. It was you! You helped gather all his things and placed them into his arms. His heart pounded in his chest and the blush on his face spread like wildfire. Before he could say anything you walked away. Taking your place on the swing set. He hurriedly put all his things away before trying to build up the courage to come talk to you. He took to long, however, as the teacher soon yelled for everyone to make their way into the line back to their respective class.

As he reminisces on the past, an alarm rings. Telling him that it’s time to make his way back to school. You’ve already finished all your food and somehow managed to take your headphones back.

“What?” You say snapping him out of his trance. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

“Nothing,”

You make your way back to the school and go your separate ways. He walks you to class ensuring that you get there. Out the corner of his eye he sees someone wave to you. Lemitzki. His hairs more well kept, ditched the glasses for contacts showing of his green eyes. He’s taller and has more muscles now. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the jagged line that makes it’s way across his right cheek, interfering with his dimple as he smiles. It’s been awhile, the scar healed well. The once clutzy boy looks at the door and freezes, hand dropping and going pale. There’s a silent stare off between the two before the late bell rings. Takenya makes his way to class, a slight smile on his face at a sudden memory.

Watching him walk away, a fist tightens. Little does he know someone was planning on getting their revenge.

Hi loves! I hope you guys enjoyed. Take is an OC of mine I’ve had for a while just never had a name for him until now. Like his concept was in my head foreverrrr. He might be a reoccurring character. I really like him. But I did put one shot so I’m not sure. Lemme know what y’all want. Check out this post below for a little more context. Hope you enjoyed.

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere childhood friend #yandere student council president

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