#i am getting to the smut- to the hand holding it is in progress it is

[summerssover]

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐱 ⊹ ִֶָ ❲ 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 ❳

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, in which you and chris make soft porn in the bathtub

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, sub!reader x softdom!chris, blackfem!influencer

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, SMUT!, super fluffy, riding, creampie, praise kink, filming, fingering, p in v

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓, 2.1k

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙖𝙥𝙥 𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙝!

hey loves i’m back for the summer, this was so cute to me make sure to show it some love and let me know if you want to be on the taglist <3

▐ 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋’ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑

𓏲 🥭🐚 𓂃 ✦ 🌺

“what time am i supposed to be picking you up?”

“uh, i don’t know maybe tomorrow”

“kay, don’t forget to wrap it up kid”

“get outta’ here matt..”

chris chuckled as matt drove off, leaving him to walk to his girlfriend’s porch. you had texted him earlier about it being a content day and needing help with filming, obviously he was quick to accept the offer considering your line of work; you were an only fans influencer. you’d upload videos of yourself masterbating and a couple streams here and there, but your content mostly consisted of clips from you and chris; it was what got you the most views after all.

chris pulled his key out of the door before locking it back and walking into the dim and spotless family room.

“babe!”

he announced himself in the house but got no answer. walking around the living room and the kitchen, chris called for your name again and still no answer so he progressed to the stairs. the closer he got to the second story, the more he could hear faint whimpering coming from the bedroom.

he soon opens the door to reveal you, completely naked, hovering over the bed with knees staked into the mattress and a pillow under your pulsating cunt. chris lets out a breath he didn’t even notice he was holding as he watched you glide your needy pussy along the pink satin pillowcase.

going at it for quite some time now you begin to build up your climax and throw your head back at the sensation you were getting. the feeling didn’t nearly match how your man would put it on you but it would do for now. suddenly you could feel the presence of another, head still dangling upward and overdramatized moans filling the room. the warmth got closer causing your eyes to shoot open and an upside-down chris gazing at the water-like movement of your ass with a cheshire cat smile.

“m’ baby, how long have you been standing here?” you tossed your legs to the side of the bed and went to stop the video before catering to your flustered boyfriend, showering his face and neck with tiny kisses.

chris allowed his ice cold hands to scoop you up before roaming freely around the plush of your skin, soaking up all your love and tenderness. “i wanna’ to be greeted just like that from now on, every time i step foot in this house i better see some ass.”

you brushed chris’ childish joke off and wrapped your arms around his neck. “no seriously, how much were you in? you know i’ll have to cut it out.”

“quite whining ma, we’re gonna’ get you some even better shit today right?” you cracked a smile at chris as he slyly smirked back at you. he was lucky you didn’t get to your orgasm in that clip or you might’ve actually been mad, but for now you’d let his puppy eyes win.

“let me see how wet you are baby.” he said under his breath and with no hesitation reached between your legs to pick at the soak string of fabric buried inside your pussy then stuffing two fingers in.

“ugh—” chris pulled his fingers out of you just as fast as he put them in and shoved them in your mouth, cutting off your whines and forcing you to suck up the slick. his index and middle finger rested in your mouth as you swirl your tongue around them, thoroughly getting a taste of your juices.

chris’ pants went extremely tight and he poked his cheek with his tongue and a smirk playing on his lips, absolutely loving how freaky you’d get in filming mode, it turned him on embarrassingly fast.

pulling his fingers from your mouth and making his way to your bed he asked “how was your day mama, you eat good?”

chris investigated his girl, now laying belly up on your bed with you following, laying arched over his crotch area.

“my day was fine, i did a little shopping earlier, not gone lie i haven’t ate in a minute though”

“you wanna’ get some food after we’re done?” you nod while chris takes your head in his hands to connect his lips to your forehead.

“and how was yours, my love?” you melted into his body as he pulled you closer.

“fucking boring, matt peer pressured me into cleaning with him. i was thinking about you all day though.”

your heart melted at his words and chris softly rubbed the small of your exposed back, occasionally touching your dermal piercings while the two of you conversatated above a faint whisper until you noticed the time was whining down.

snuggling deeper into chris’ neck you lightly groaned. “i don’t wanna’ move”

“fucked yourself out huh?” chris silently snickered at the way you clung your body to his, knowing well enough that you were tired from how clingy your actions were. he ran his fingers along the spinal groove of your back and whispered into your ear. “laying around s’ not gonna’ pay you anything”. a tingle played on your cheeks and core at the rasp of his lowered voice. choosing to ignore it you only responded with yet another groan.

“i’ll tell you what, let me do all the work and you sit there n’ look pretty” chris offered out of generosity and partially for his own enjoyment. your face lit up

in a split second and you brought your head to look at his. “you want to be in a video?” you exclaimed with a toothy grin, normally he was the one recording here.

“i mean i don’t really consider myself porn star material but i’m cool with the neck-down”

you squealed with excitement. you’ve always respected your boyfriend's wishes in regards to keeping him off of your platform, obviously your audiences didn’t mix, but deep down you’ve always wanted chris to fully be in one of your amateur films, knowing it would do numbers and make tons of money.

“here lemme’ make you a bath” chris gently scooted you off his lap, dragging your damp cunt across his clothed leg in the process, making your breath to hitch. you watched from the bed as he made his way into your connected bathroom and slipped his shirt off before turning the faucet to warm then pouring some lavender body wash in the tub. his sweats followed after, hitting the ground allowing his dick to spring up and collide with his lower abdomen.

leaving the soap and water to fill the bath and backtracking to you, he began to take the remainder of your clothing off and took one of your hair bows that resided on his wrist to pull your fresh blow out into a ponytail.

once the pair stood in front of the half empty bathtub chris was the first to sit in the lukewarm water then pulling you in to straddle his waist. your phone had been propped up on the bottle of soap he used to fill the water, giving the audience a perfect view of both your bottom halves and the overhead lights were set to dim.

“you ready ma?” he whispered ever so gently, making sure the camera wouldn’t pick up his voice even though it was a known fact that chris was in a relationship with a cam girl. you nodded your head in response, giving him the green light to touch you the way he’d been wanting to. leaning his back on the wall of the tub chris lifted your ass to the air and began to run his rugged fingers through the maze that is the folds of your pussy. he peeked over your shoulder and gazed into the phone screen to get a glance at your glistening heat as he felt you clenching around him, encouraging him to rub a little harder. you softly moaned in his ear and laid your head on his shoulder as he did his thing.

taking the pad of his thumb to your clit he circled it around while his hand that held you up traveled to your ass also applying slow strokes before sending it a sting.

“ugh chr—” chris cut off your whimpers, smashing his pillowy lips into yours before you could disclose his name. your back arched and chris removed his thumb leaving space for your puffy bud to press against his stiffened shaft. chris proceeded to bury two fingers in knuckles deep in your needy hole, plunging and curling inside you. as if it was a reflex you rhythmically grinded on chris’ cock earning a growl from his pouting lips and breaking the long winded make out. the couple took this time as a breather before chris connected your lips once more and returned to sending rapid strokes to your sweet spot. you lifted off of his fingers a bit with a scrunched face and a wide mouth, echoing shrieks bouncing off the walls. your nails dug intensely into chris’ red flesh as your juices began to trickle down his fingers and dripped into the water.

as you basked in your high chris pulled forth his bricked cock to replace his cum covered fingers, granting himself a taste prior to forcing them into your mouth for you to suck the excess off.

“good fucking girl” chris grunted through his teeth while he tried to not cream at the sexy sight in front of him. your head tilted up as chris slowly pulled out of your mouth and sank you down to rest on his dick, giving you a moment to adjust to his size and squeeze against every inch of girth he had to offer. both of you panted as you tightly hugged each other's bodies and chris littered passionate kisses along your neck and shoulders, the hickies left behind going unnoticed by you. you rolled your hip, stretching yourself around him even more as chris’ lips traveled to peaks of your breast while a free hand messaged the other.

his cock throbbed desperately need to be in your gut and he released pathetic whimpers at your teasing antics. it was only a matter of time before he could feel pre cum seeping from his tip and tensions building up before having to handle you himself. rough hands roped and squeezed at your ass, guiding you to bounce up and down on his dick causing your head to fly back and growls and moans to escape your mouths.

“f-fuck feels so good, baby” your praises came out choked and choppy by the way chris pounded you at a now rapid pace and hummed in response. he was mesmerizing at your boobs that moved freely in his face, sparkling beautifully from the water and saliva that coated them. at this point his groans were just as loud as yours and his eyes were rolled to the back of his head. you screamed out and grabbed the shaggy, damp hair on the back of chris’ head while the camera captured prominent white rings forming around the base of his dick. the coil in your belly sprung a euphoric sensation throughout your whole body before you stood on your knees and chris’ dick slipping out of you with a pop of the head. globs of milky essence came gushing along the sides of his dick colliding with his spewing out the tip and painting your messy walls white.

you collapsed your upper body on chris’ chest and drool slid down the corner of your mouth. and chris whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you both finally got a hold of your breathing. chris lifts your head from his chest, brush bits of hair from your face that once was straightened but now texturized due to the humidity of the bathroom. “you still with me, mama?” he chuckled, half of him joking and the other half making sure you didn’t actually black out, it was hot as fuck in that bathroom.

your eyes fluttered open and a soft grin rose on your lips.

“you deserve a metal or some shit, that was too good”

chris just shook his head and smiled then wiped the drool from your chin before releasing you to retrieve your phone. crawling back to your spot between chris’ legs you played around on the camera making funny faces and posing while chris kissed all over the red and purple bruises along your skin.

“y’all my boyfriends dick is magical, comment down below if you want to be next” you squished his cheeks together making his face turn flushed.

“okay” he spoke flusteredly, dismissing the nonsense that left your mouth and ending the recording. “c’mon i wanna’ take a shower now”

so much for hiding his identity.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!- @worldlxvlys @ariieeesworld d @muwapsturniolo @esioleren @sturn59 @junnniiieee07 @iluvmattyb @kriissy4gov @patscorner @imsosillygoofylol @sturncakez @sturnzsblog @mattslolita

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x black reader #sturniolo triplets #nathan doe x reader #black writers #chris sturniolo smut #summersover #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x black reader #x black reader #SoundCloud

[delta-piscium]

Steve holds hands for wip Wednesday 💜

thank you so much <3 sorry this is so late, I got stuck on all my writing but it is actually Wednesday today so better timing right (right?)

Steve hums in agreement, "but hey, at least we can keep each other company.” Eddie can’t help himself. He never can but especially not around Steve, he’s like a goddamn siren, or catnip. So he smirks, slants a look at him and in a voice that comes out deeper and raspier than he meant asks, “oh yeah? And what kind of company would that be?” But then, because this is Steve he backtracks, diffuses, “I could tell you about the new campaign I’m planning. I’m thinking no monsters, no fighting. Just a good happy time for everyone.” Steve peers up at him, that frown back between his eyebrows but now there’s also a glint in his eyes. One Eddie has only seen flashes off before, not now though, now it stays. Steve looks at him with interest, with determination. “You keep doing that.”  He looks between Eddie’s eyes, searching and keeping him pinned on the spot.  “You keep saying all these things filled with intent and meaning.” Eddie swallows, can’t look away. “But then nothing happens, you just switch topics, pretend like nothing. Gives me whiplash man” “I- um,” he stammers, tries to find something to say, and finally lands on, “Sorry?” Steve sits up on his elbows, still not breaking eye contact, “I just wonder why you do it?” Because you’re Steve Harrington. Because not only are you hot but so pretty that I don’t actually understand it. Because you’re so fucking kind, so caring, so good, that I can’t help but flirt even though I shouldn’t. Eddie shrugs, “dunno.”

(very late) WIP weekend (or Wednesday)/make me write

#thank you so so much for this #after wyns post about Edward Cullen speak in steddie fics i really stuggled not having Eddie compare Steve to his personal brand of her- #idk if i can write that in the tags or if they'll mess with me- sometimes the tags do that so mmh that quote u know yeah #almost wrote 'catnip. But specifically made for Eddie." and then i was like...wait a minute here that sounds familiar and yeah #if this seems inconsistent with the snippet i've posted it's bc this is not chronologically written so yeah #me working on every wip again 'oh id forgotten how much i like this' like yeah wow what a revelation i like my own ideas.... #i am getting to the smut- to the hand holding it is in progress it is #like scene after this is first time they have sex so...we are getting there (it's what the snipped ive posted before is part of) #momotonescreaming #ask #wip game #wip weekend #wip wednesday #my writing #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #dels steddie thoughts

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.” 

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more. 

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly. 

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker. 

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. 

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder. 

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest,  hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you. 

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission. 

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises. 

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest. 

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. 

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants. 

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.” 

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men. 

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek. 

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible. 

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft.  He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself. 

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.” 

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it. 

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms. 

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands. 

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time– 

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself. 

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again. 

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips. 

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. 

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed. 

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you. 

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls. 

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci. 

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it. 

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn. 

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway. 

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon. 

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe. 

 What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths. 

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead. 

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt. 

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected. 

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper. 

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more. 

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back. 

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before. 

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning. 

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you. 

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

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[hellfireghoul]

Partners, Roommates, Best Friends

RE4!Leon x f!Reader

Summary: Yourself and your partner Leon have just returned back from a harrowing mission overseas in Spain. The both of you are severely affected by what you'd seen out there, both developing insomnia that only the other can seem to cure. You share a job, a home, a friendship, and now a bed.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni. Smut.

Words: 3.8k

Notes: This is pure filth tbh nothing much more to add lmao apart from I need help

You and Leon had been partners for the past two years. Partners, best friends, roommates. Everything you did, you did together. There were pros and cons to this of course, the pros being the two of you knew every little thing about each other, and the cons being that you knew every little thing about each other - hence knowing how to get on the other's last nerve. However frequently that may happen, tonight was not one of those nights.

It had been just short of two weeks since you’d both returned to the U.S, after being on an assignment in Spain. It had been the hardest thing you’d ever experienced in your career so far. You didn’t need to have a conversation with Leon to know he felt the same. The tired faint expression on his face, and once shining blue eyes now dark and glazed told you a story without having to ask. The two of you had barely spoken about it since getting back. It was kind of an unspoken rule between the two of you usually, to never really talk about work. You assumed this was a fairly normal thing, wanting to keep work at work. The only time you and Leon ever discussed anything related to your jobs was when you both needed to. Sometimes it was good to debrief, after all the information was strictly confidential but seeing as how you were partners, it didn’t prevent you from talking about it freely to each other. Just one of the perks of being partnered together you supposed. 

This hadn’t happened this time though. Instead you’d both simply gone about your daily lives, but both much quieter and more subdued. You noticed Leon was much more clingy, he wanted to be close to you at all times. This wasn’t completely out of character, but the intensity flagged up with you almost immediately. It started on the first Monday night since you’d gotten back on the Friday. Curled up watching a movie and he’d suddenly come and shuffled up close to you, and gently placed his arm on the back of the sofa and asked if it was okay. As soon as you’d nodded, his arm was draped around you and pulling you tight to his chest. 

That’s when it started, and then it turned into hand holding whilst eating dinner and buddying up to go to the laundry room. Which then progressed into naps together on the couch during the day time. You knew full well neither of you slept at night. This wasn’t typical friend behaviour, friends didn’t hold hands having dinner or cuddle on the couch but, it’s what you both needed. 

The clock had just struck twelve am as you climbed into your cold sheets on a damp and drizzly Friday evening. Two weeks since your return, and every time the silence fell and you closed your eyes you were back there again. Spain. 

You couldn’t escape it, it was like running from a never ending nightmare playing on a loop in your brain. You’d been staying up for as long as you could, hoping that when you finally settled into bed you’d be tired enough just to switch off and sleep. You were always too hopeful. And always wrong.

You tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity, any tiny disturbance making you jolt your eyes open and jump. Something hit the window with a crack that made you almost rise two inches off the bed. You shot up, your hand immediately outstretched reaching for the pistol you kept in your nightstand drawer. 

Your fingers gripped around the cold, heavy metal until you saw the loose bit of tree branch hanging from the window awning. Your chest relaxed, and you cursed under your breath at your own stupidity.

Everything made you on edge nowadays, even though you knew you were safe at home. You couldn’t be any safer if you were completely honest with yourself, knowing that Leon slept a mere door across from you was a huge comfort. Slept is a loose term, you would bet money on the fact he wasn’t asleep at this moment in time. However, he did almost act like your personal guard dog, whether you were on the job or doing your grocery shopping together.

The rain grew heavier outside, the pattern on the windows normally added to a serene atmosphere, the ambient sound usually lulling you into a peaceful sleep. It wasn’t working its usual magic however, you feared nothing would.

Sighing, you flung the sheets off you, determined to swallow your pride and do what you should’ve done two weeks ago. You needed a good night's sleep, and the only time you could ever get some sleep lately was during the day, wrapped up with your roommate. It was pathetic really, you thought to yourself. You’d never been this affected after a mission before, and you’d seen some gruesome shit, but this past assignment had been something else entirely for the both of you. You’d witnessed Leon almost die a million times, and those memories flashed up every time you closed your eyes and then continued like a reel you couldn’t turn off in your nightmares. In your dreams you weren’t there to save him, you were simply a helpless onlooker. You just had to stand there and watch.  

Wrapping your arms around your body in response to the chilly air, your bare feet pattered across the wood floor as you crept out of your dark room. You eased the door open gingerly, trying to prevent any loud creaking as you slipped through the gap and into the hallway. Leon’s bedroom was directly opposite yours, and you hesitated for a moment at the door, trying to listen for any soft snoring that indicated he may be asleep. The last thing you wanted to do was disturb him if he had by some miracle managed to drift off, he was a light sleeper and you knew the second you opened his door he’d be awake in a flash. 

Listening for a moment, you were met with complete silence, so you decided to go ahead and gently twist his door handle. Leon’s room was in complete darkness, apart from a slither of moonlight that cast a stripe across the room from the tiny gap in his curtains.

You crept in as silently as you could, making sure to close the door behind you with a gentle click. You saw movement from the bed, a shadow sitting up and you heard Leon sigh from the mound of sheets. 

“Hey, it’s only me.” You whispered. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

Leon exhaled a deep breath from his nose, and sat up from his bed, leaning over he pulled the curtains back a tiny bit more, revealing more of the room under the moonlight. You could see him now, and you were very grateful it was still dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell you were blushing. He was sitting on his bed, shirtless and in pyjama shorts that hugged his hips in a way that made you want to stare. You’d seen Leon almost naked plenty of times and it never failed to cause a blush to creep up your cheeks. 

“No, you didn’t don’t worry. I heard you get out of bed. You can’t sleep either?” Leon muttered, his voice low matching your whisper.

“No.” You responded, glumly.

He sat back properly in bed, and pulled the covers back, patting the mattress. Neither of you spoke, instead you simply obliged, silently accepting his offer by climbing under the sheets, the unoccupied side of the bed cold and crisp. Leon adjusted, shuffling himself so he was propped up on one arm and you lay on your back staring at the ceiling. Your shoulder was grazing his torso, and the warmth radiating from his body was exceedingly comforting. There was a lingering, but comfortable silence. Just being in one and other's company helped to relax the other. 

“A tree branch scared me.” You suddenly said into the darkness.

“A tree branch?” Leon asked.

“Yes, it hit my window and I nearly had my gun out and everything. I’ve never felt so stupid Leon.” You huffed, and laughed humourlessly at yourself.

“I get it, I’ve been on edge too.”

“When d’you think it will stop?” You whispered, more seriously. 

“I dunno, I really don’t know.”

Leon sighed, and brought his free arm over both your hands that were resting on your stomach. You froze a little at the contact, and Leon picked up on it immediately, because of course he did. He was so ridiculously in tune with your mannerisms and moods, he practically knew how you were feeling before you did. Leon immediately retracted his hand.

“Sorry, ‘there something wrong?” He asked, tentatively.

You took a sharp, shaky inhale of breath. Nothing was wrong with what he just did, and you weren’t sure why you’d tensed up like that. You and Leon were touchy most of the time, especially in the recent weeks, but it was in a friendly, overly comfortable way. Or so you’d convinced yourself. But there was something about lying next to him in his bed, bare skin almost daring to touch and feeling the heat radiating from his bare form that had everything feeling different. You suddenly felt as if you had nowhere to hide. You couldn’t play off a subtle touch as a friendly gesture. Everything felt all the more intense. 

“No, no. It’s okay.” You reassured him, and you turned to face him, one hand tucked under your head as you met his gaze. 

“I’m just tense, is all.” You smiled weakly, his piercing blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“You won’t mind if I do this then?” Leon asked softly, as he rested a palm on your side and squeezed reassuringly. The contact felt comforting but was stirring up something else inside you you weren’t ready to address quite yet.

“I can’t stop the nightmares.” Leon said, suddenly. His confession shocked you slightly, he wasn’t one to share much, even to you. He’s gotten more generous over the years when it came to giving you an insight into his psyche, but it was still a rare occurrence that shocked you whenever it happened. 

“You too?” 

“Yeah,” Leon chuckled dryly, devoid of any humour. “You wanna talk about it?”

You sighed for a moment, and were very aware of how he’d begun tracing small circles on your thigh with his calloused thumb. You hesitated for a minute, before saying, 

“I see you die every single time I fall asleep.”

Leon didn’t respond for a second, he was clearly processing what you’d just said but didn’t seem to be phased by your confession. His thumb was still tracing small circles.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, sincerely.

“I’m just terrified I’m going to lose you Leon.” You breathed, through a well of tears forming. What you didn’t know, was Leon had the exact same nightmares, except it was you he couldn’t save. The words broke Leon’s heart, and the hand resting on your thigh soon applied some pressure, pulling you in closer to him so your bodies were flush.

“I’m not going anywhere sweetheart, I promise.” Leon soothed, and kissed the top of your head firmly whilst you found yourself sobbing into his chest. 

“I can’t stand the thought Leon, it scares me so much.” You sobbed quietly against his skin, and all he could do was whisper small “I know,”’s and “it’s okay I’m not going anywhere,” as he stroked your hair.

He gripped you tight, and it took you a  moment to gain your composure before you were gazing up through teary eyes at the man next to you. 

“What about you? What do you dream about?” You asked, your voice hoarse. Leon paused for a moment, contemplating your question and how to phrase the answer. 

“You. The same situation but in reverse. I’m not fast enough or I’m not close enough or I’m not good enough, and I lose you.” Leon answered honestly, and your eyes softened but your brows knitted upwards in an expression of guilt and sadness. 

“Oh, Leon…” was all you could muster as you stared at him. “I’m not going anywhere either.” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and that was how it started. Before you knew it, Leon was leaning towards you and placing his lips on yours. He kissed you gently, his lips feather light on your own as he cupped your jaw to tilt your head up to him ever so slightly. It was like something clicked. You knew you’d always felt something for Leon, but you’d always feared taking it that step further, fearing it would ruin what you had or that it just wouldn’t feel right. But this, this felt right. It felt natural, normal.

You took initiative, deepening the kiss by propping yourself up on one elbow and pinning his chest flat to the bed with your other hand. Leon responded almost immediately, his hands finding your hips and tracing lines up your back as you hooked a leg over his waist. You were lost in the moment, the taste of him completely addictive as you entangled a hand in his hair, earning a low groan from him that caused heat to pool between your legs. Your hips began to move involuntarily, grinding gently against him that caused you both to shudder.

Leon held his hands against your shoulders for a moment, breaking away from the kiss and he pushed your hair out of your face.

“You’re so beautiful.” He breathed, his pupils blown out in lust and his lips pink and wet. It was a gorgeous sight. You didn’t have the chance to respond before he was pulling you back into the kiss, but this time, he angled you in such a way that meant he could flip you on your back. He towered over you, his hair brushing against your face as he peppered doting kisses along your jaw.

You sighed, suppressing a moan as he worked his way down your body. He reached your breasts, and he looked up at you through hooded eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Leon asked, his gaze never leaving yours. You nodded, and Leon wasted no time continuing. He lifted your his old shirt with ease, taking one of your breasts in his mouth and sucking gently. Your hand shot into his hair, intertwining your fingers in the strands and giving them a gentle pull to encourage him to be a little rougher. He got the hint, his other hand massaging your other breast applying a pleasurable amount of pressure whilst his mouth and tongue got to work sucking and biting your nipple. You desperately wanted to touch him, but your hands had no chance of reaching where he needed you in the position you were in. You reached between the two of you anyway, your fingertips just about reaching the tip of his waistband, indicating what you were desperate to do. Leon pulled his mouth away, causing you to mewl slightly at the lack of contact. He moved your hand away and gently placed it back at your side, not taking his hand away yet like he didn’t trust you not to move.

“I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” Leon spoke in a rough, low voice that sent your head spinning. 

He continued down your body, placing kisses along your stomach before settling himself on his front and parting your legs. The way his breath felt against your clothed pussy made your skin flush hot. Leon hooked his arms around your thighs so they sat on his shoulders, and began placing more doting kisses along the inside of the soft flesh.

You tried your best not to squirm as he fingered the line of your panties, pulling the now soaked fabric to the side to allow him access. He groaned slightly at the sight of you glistening wet for him. 

“Fuck baby.” He hissed under his breath, before placing a sloppy kiss on your clit making you gasp as shockwaves of pleasure rippled through your stomach. He placed another kiss on your clit, harsher this time causing your legs to clamp together. Before you knew it, Leon was back up on his knees and pulling your underwear fully off now, seemingly growing impatient with the fabric.

All bets were off the table now. Leon returned to his position on his stomach and threw your legs back over his shoulders, burying his face between your thighs and getting to work with his tongue. Your senses were completely overloaded, all you could think about was Leon, and a string of his name rolled off your tongue in throaty whispers as he sucked and licked in all the right places. Your hand shot to his hair once again, combing your fingers through the strands to massage his scalp. It was a desperate plea for him not to stop. You pulled on the strands which made him groan again, the vibrations reverberating against you which intensified everything he was doing with his tongue. You gasped, sitting up slightly and opening your eyes to see his stare fixed completely on you, drinking in your responsiveness. He was determined to please you, desperate to know exactly what you liked.

He pulled away for a second, his thumb immediately going to rub small circles on your clit as a substitute for his mouth. His blue eyes darted from you and back to your centre, before he sunk a digit inside you causing your jaw to fall slack. 

“Oh my god.“ you breathed, your head falling automatically back onto the mattress, and you heard Leon chuckle lowly.

“You good, sweetheart?” He said, lowly.

You just about managed a nod, your eyes still closed and mouth slightly agape as the coil in your stomach began to wind tighter with every touch. 

“Use your words baby.” 

“Yes, yeah-“ You breathed quickly, eyes shooting open, fearing he might stop. Leon chuckled softly, before his mouth was back on your clit and he added a second finger that caused your back to arch involuntarily off the bed.

Leon curled his fingers upwards, hitting that spot inside you that caused you to lose all sense of self.

“Fuck Leon, right there oh my god.” You moaned, and you only got louder as his fingers got faster, working you with expertise you weren’t used to. You were so close, the feeling in your stomach building and building until it finally snapped. A string of cries escaped your lips as you finished, Leon’s hand pressed down on your stomach to keep you still as he continued to finger you through it. 

You were still coming to your senses before you even realised Leon was now kneeling in front of you, lining himself up with your entrance and pumping himself a few times as he teased you. Your head shot up from the mattress when you realised what he was doing, and you immediately whined, reaching down between the two of you to impatiently guide him to sink into you.

“Eager much?” Leon smiled, his voice low and rough and it continued to make you dizzy. 

“Please.” You begged with doe eyes up at him, but he just laughed softly and took both your hands in his, proceeding to pin them above your head with one hand whilst the other stroked his cock again. 

“Stay like this for me, sweetheart.” He breathed against you, before pushing into you painfully slow. He stayed still for a moment, and you both moaned as he bottomed out inside you. 

“Please start moving.” You whined.

“Since you asked so nicely…” Leon breathed, his right arm still pinning both your wrists above your head and just like that, he was snapping his hips into yours at a rate that was fatal. The sound of your wetness and his hips slapping into you filled the room. The gasps and moans that left your mouth as your jaw fell slack once again were obscene, you were propping your head up slightly, watching as he pounded into you and it made your head swim.

“Dirty girl, like to watch, do you?” Leon whispered through panting breaths as he continued to fuck you senseless. All you could do was pathetically nod, as your eyes rolled back and you let the pleasure overtake you. The familiar tightness was building again, you instinctively snaked your hand between the two of you and began circling your clit. Leon made a noise not dissimilar to a growl, as you clenched around him at the additional pleasure of your clit being stimulated.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “Look at you, going all dumb on my cock.” Leon brought his other hand up and rested it around your throat, squeezing gently and this almost pushed you over the edge. You fluttered again around his cock, earning a low moan from his lips.

“You like my hand around your throat like this, baby?” He got the hint, you fucking loved it. He squeezed slightly harder on your neck as his pace increased, fucking you deeper than you even thought possible as the head of his cock kissed your sweet spot with every thrust. 

You were a mess, writhing beneath him, eyes rolled into the back of your head and babbling nonsense as your climax grew nearer. Leon was close too, his thrusts becoming more stuttered and inconsistent. Your noises got even louder as you gripped onto the arm that held your throat, the pleasure now becoming overwhelming and the band in your stomach snapped again. Another string of cries, mixed with a mantra of Leon’s name left your mouth as you came, the spasming and squeezing around him triggering his own orgasm. 

He emptied himself into you, groaning your name and panting into your ear as he slowly fucked you through your orgasm as well as his own. After a moment, he slowed almost to a complete stop before sliding out of you and laying on his back. The two of you lay there, getting your breath back and coming down from your highs. 

“Why the fuck haven’t we been doing that this whole time?” You said after a few moments. Leon laughed, his broad chest rising up and down as he did and you still couldn’t help but stare as a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.

“I don’t know, maybe because we’re both idiots?” He grinned, resting his hand on his stomach whilst tucking the other one behind his head. “I’m sorry if I was a little rough back there.” 

You frowned, turning to face him now.

“Not at all. It was fun.” You reassured him, taking in his beautiful face as he still remained laying on his back, glancing up at the ceiling. 

After a moment, he broke the silence. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t strike you as the type to get off on choking.” 

Your mouth opened in shock and you slapped his arm playfully, and Leon just started chuckling and turned on his side to snuggle into you, his laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help but join in. 

“You tired?” He said, lowly.

“Not really.” 

“Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you yet.”

-

#Leon s Kennedy #Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x reader #Leon s Kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4r #leon scott kennedy #Leon Kennedy smut

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 13)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: SA trauma recovery and boundary setting, recovering from malnourishment, jealousy, hard dom/sub sexual dynamics, dirty talk, rough sex with anal penetration and breath play, mental infidelity (morally grey since packs have a different view of relationships and exclusivity, but characters are feeling guilty about their thoughts)

____

Namjoon takes the white towel from Hoseok’s hand, motioning for the older wolf to sit on the bed and let him dry his hair. He hums as he massages his packmate’s scalp through the towel, smiling at how cute Hoseok looks when he’s relaxed like this. It’s not just the way his eyes flutter, but everything else. It’s only been a few days since he’s been eating proper meals, but that—and the fancy vitamin supplements you’ve been giving him—have been making visible progress in fighting his malnourishment. His face is no longer sunken in and colorless, and his hair has gotten some of its shine back as well.

There are still moments where everything feels dizzy and weird, as his body relearns to enjoy eating, but overall, Hoseok is in a much better place with food.

“You’re getting your glow back.”

The wolf smiles, feeling his almost dry hair, “Feeling a lot better these days.”

Namjoon pulls away from drying to face Hoseok, fingers gently stroking the wolf’s cheek.

“Tae and Jimin told me about the conversation they had with you. I told the others as well. If you say it’s okay, then I’m going to assume it is. I’m trusting you to set your own boundaries, you know that right?”

It’s moments like these where Namjoon shines the brightest in Hoseok’s eyes. Moments where he knows exactly what to say.

“I am okay, I promise. Thank you for trusting me.” This conversation could have gone a different way, and Hoseok was bracing himself for how frustrating it could’ve been.

But Namjoon knows the difference between leading his pack and infantilizing them, and he’s never for a second thought of Hoseok as incapable of making his own decisions. It’s just, most of the time, the wolves want him to make these decisions instead. It makes them feel safe and cared for when an Alpha does all the thinking.

A gentle knock on the open doorframe interrupts the moment, with both heads turning towards you.

“Just the two I wanted to talk to. Can I come in?”

Hoseok nods immediately, while Namjoon nervously goes along with it. He still doesn’t know how to be around you after realizing the extent of his crush. It feels wrong to look at someone else’s girlfriend with the way he looks at you. Especially not when he’s taken himself.

Hence the way he looks everywhere but at you when you sit in front of them.

“I have a proposition.”

Namjoon can’t help the little chuckle that comes out, endeared by how you sound like you’re leading a boardroom negotiation right now.

Your eyes narrow, looking at him with a pout.

“Sorry, you just looked cute.”

The words leave his mouth faster than he processes what he’s said.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Did I really just say that out loud?

The blush on his cheeks is violent red. You don’t seem phased, though, as you laugh it off.

“Hobi, you better hold onto your Alpha before I steal him.”

Namjoon knows it’s nothing more than a joke to you, but the words have him shifting uncomfortably in seat.

Hoseok obliviously smiles, “You can try Y/N, but our Alpha is too head over heels over us for that to ever happen.”

The Alpha gives a strained smile. Of course, nothing could ever tear him away from his packmates—but that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty for what he’s feeling towards you.

“Fair enough. Okay, back to my proposition.”

You hand Namjoon a manilla folder, with the name “Cha Mi-Suk” over it.

“Cha Mi-Suk?”

“She’s a psychiatrist who also provides psychotherapy, and she’s agreed to work with Hoseok—if that’s okay with the two of you. Assuming I’m supposed to ask you both. Or is it just a conversation between Hoseok and I? Or do I need to ask the whole pack. Sorry I’m not--” you can’t help going on a tangent and tripping over your own words.

This whole hierarchy thing was confusing and new, and you wanted to make sure you were doing it right. On one hand, it feels condescending towards Hoseok to have to ask Namjoon’s permission. However, not asking Namjoon feels like you’re dismissing his authority over them. They don’t teach you this stuff in business school.

“Relax Y/N. This is okay.” Namjoon reassures, “Hobi prefers I make these kinds of decisions for him.”

Hoseok nods, peeking at the papers as the other wolf flips through them.

“But how did you get someone to agree to this? Isn’t it illegal?”

Yes, it very much is illegal. Hybrids are only allowed “therapy” in state-sanctioned facilities like adoption centers, where the government can keep the extent of it under supervision. Designed to gaslight and manipulate hybrids until they bottle the trauma down enough to get adopted, rather than working to help them in any meaningful way. It’s not rocket science to see why private practices aren’t allowed: that would mean giving the hybrids a voice, and possibilities of therapists empathizing with them.

Which is why you were as careful as possible while looking into this for the past few days, all with the help of your boyfriend.

“It’s going to be risky to even ask, but I think Cha Mi-Suk is our best shot if we’re proceeding.” Yoongi had said this morning, over the phone.

“I’ll ask.”

“No, let me. You’ve never broken the law before, Y/N. It’s best to keep your hands clean.”

“I can afford to be in trouble. You can’t. And I know I’ve been a stickler for the law, but I don’t think I’ll regret breaking this one. Not when it’s so cruel.”

You remembered Mi-Suk from one of the parties you’d attended in the past, mother to the CEO of a start-up you had helped get on its feet. She would’ve been forgettable if not for the little scene she had caused during dinner—drinking one too many glasses of champagne and reprimanding another guest for being sleazy towards their fox hybrid.

It was an unusual scene at one those events, someone actually defending a hybrid…something you wished you were brave enough to do back then, without caring of what anyone would say or think about you.

You had found her admirable in that moment.

Thankfully, you and Yoongi’s hunches were right, and it took very little convincing (and a lot of money) to get her on board.

“You’re right, it is illegal. That’s why it’ll have to be a secret. It won’t be on any official records, and she’ll never meet him in person. If we go through with it, Yoongi and I will set up a secure private video chat that he can use for weekly sessions.”

Namjoon nods along, scanning all of her information and credentials with a protective instinct.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Breaking the law for us?”

“If it means Hobi can sleep a little better at night, I’m willing to do anything.”

The Alpha can’t help the way his heart flutters when he hears that. How can he hold himself back when you talk as if his pack is your own? You’re really not making this easy for him.

Hoseok’s eyes have stars in them, finally seeing a glimmer of hope for the future.

“It’s okay with me,” Namjoon concludes, “I think it’d be good for you, pup. What do you think?”

The wolf nods at lightning speed, “I’ll give anything a try! Thank you Alpha! Thank you Y/N!”

___

Yoongi comes home in the evening, singing to himself as he takes his shoes off. It’s hard to keep his tune, though, when there’s a constant soft thud coming from one of the rooms. He follows the sound to your library, where a determined blonde wolf is trying to fix one of the side tables.

“You’re going to split the wood if you hammer the screw that hard.”

Jin jumps up, too lost in concentration to register Yoongi’s cologne fill the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Yoongi joins the wolf on the floor, sitting a little too close for Jin to maintain composure. His cologne is inescapable now. A blended scent of maple and chestnut that makes the wolf feel both calm and nervous.

“Can I help?”

Jin nods, handing the hammer over while subconsciously licking his lips. There’s just something about Yoongi that he can’t help but be drawn to…an aura of confidence that’s never domineering—quiet, subtle, yet commanding. It tugs at his heartstrings in ways that’s usually only reserved for his pack.

Even now, he can’t help but want to watch this sight for hours: the way the man rolls up his sleeves and juts his lips out in concentration.

And how he knows just the right pressure to put on the nail…

…the way he shakes his hair out of his eyes.

…and, the cherry on top of the cake: his fucking fingers.

Long and narrow and so goddamn pretty wrapped around that hammer.

They’d probably look just as pretty inside of--

Jin shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of it.

A mix of lust, guilt, and five hundred other emotions he can’t quite name yet all tornado in the pit of his stomach.

Can’t stay here. Can’t be near him right now.

All the alarm bells ring, and the wolf’s body language changes from too stiff to a jittery mess in seconds.

“I—uh—I remembered there’s something I have to do.” Is the most he can muster before almost running out, leaving a confused Yoongi to finish up the table by himself.

The wolf darts straight to where the smell of oranges is the strongest—the scent of his Alpha to replace the one of Yoongi’s cologne. Leading him straight to the bathroom of your home gym. Namjoon’s stripped down to his underwear, getting ready for a post-workout shower, when he gets ambushed with a hug.

“Hi to you too.” The wolf laughs, wrapping his arms around the welcomed intruder.

But then he notices something weird: Jin never hugs Namjoon when he’s all sweaty, so something was definitely off, “Is something wrong, hyung?”

“I need to feel you. Inside of me. And I need to feel it now because I’m going insane.”

Whatever Namjoon was expecting…this was not it. His underwear suddenly feels a lot tighter.

“Okay, that’s the hottest thing I’ve heard in a while, but something’s clearly up…”

Jin doesn’t skip a beat to confess, doesn’t even avoid eye contact as the words come out of his mouth.

“I think I just got turned on by Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s eyes nearly bulge out of his eye sockets.

“You think WHAT?”

Jin crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes to stare the younger wolf down.

“Hey, no judgement. Don’t act like you don’t have any feelings for Y/N.”

If the first statement wasn’t enough to destabilize him, this one knocked the wind right out of his body.

“H-how did you know?”

“You really think you can keep anything from me? I’m your first packmate. I can read your thoughts like they’re written on your forehead.”

Namjoon coughs, face hot and red. This isn’t a conversation he’d ever planned on having. The plan was simple: crush on you for a little while, get over it on his own, never let a single packmate know.

But now, as it lays out in the open, the guilt has him scrambling.

“I can explain…I…”

Jin waves a hand dismissively, “Hush. We can have a rational talk about this later. Right now, I’m telling you, my Alpha, that I was thinking about another man’s fingers inside of me. So, are you going to do something about that or should I keep imagining—”

All guilt and remorse fade away from Namjoon’s eyes, leaving half-lidded dark orbs in their stead. He doesn’t wait for his packmate to rile him up any further before grabbing the blonde by the waist and hoisting him onto the bathroom counter, quite literally ripping off his clothes from his body.

“Now this, this is what I needed” Jin smirks, claws lightly dragging along Namjoon’s bare back.

“God, you’re such a fucking brat.”

Just the word “brat” has the older man whining. It’s been a minute since he’s been called that. Been years since he acted like one. Ever since the youngest three came into the picture, he’d fallen into more of a dominant role in the bedroom, with their omegas being much more needy than his beta. Although they were all more human than wolf—to the point where only the Alpha distinction really mattered—there was still an unspoken shift when omega hybrids joined the pack. Partly a hormonal thing, but more societal. A beta is supposed to help their Alpha keep the omegas happy. That’s just how it’s always been. When it was just him and Hoseok with Namjoon, the betas could act however they wanted with their Alpha. But the moment Jimin first came into their lives, everything shifted. Suddenly, there was an omega in the picture. Then two. Then three.

And unlike Hoseok, who seemed to prefer giving care, it took Jin a little longer to fit into his new role. Granted, it wasn’t difficult at all—how could it be, when he adored the omegas to the moon and back? When it was instinct to dote on them? It wasn’t long before he grew to love their new dynamic, putting his all into spoiling the pups.

But now, as content as he is with his role in the pack, he can’t help the excitement that surges in his veins at being called a brat again. It makes him feel like that young little wolf he was all those years ago, at the bar where he first met Namjoon. He had spent the entire night pushing just the right buttons to get the Alpha riled up, knowing he’d be in for quite the lesson in the back alley afterwards. And he couldn’t have been more right.

The Jin and Namjoon of those days were fiery and hot and burned each other when skin touched skin. But as the burning passion replaced itself with quiet comfort, it seemed as if only the omegas’ scents could get Namjoon riled up in the same way.

Or so Jin thought. Because looking at his Alpha now, it’s as if the pheromones of fifty omegas are calling to him at the moment. All from a little jealousy.

“Same limits? And safeword?” Namjoon makes sure Jin is fully present in the moment, getting him to squeeze his hand as he answers.

Jin nods, “Same limits, red, and tap twice if I can’t speak.”

“Good boy. I’m not going to hold back.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Namjoon brings his face close to the beta’s neck, grazing his skin with the tips of his canines before whispering in the older man’s ear.

“If you think about him even once while I’m fucking you, I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for months. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes Alpha.”

With Jin’s clothes in a ripped up pile on the floor, the Alpha wastes no time in spreading his beta’s hole wide open, circling the puckered rim with his index finger. He laughs at how just this act gets the older wolf’s ears red in embarrassment.

“Fuck, you look so tight. You could pass as a virgin right now. But don’t worry, Alpha will make it fit.”

Every sinful word coming out of Namjoon’s mouth has Jin getting slicker by the second. But even as slick as he is, the first finger still causes him to jolt up, squirming at the intrusion.

His legs flail on both sides of Namjoon, unable to find footing on anything as he’s on the edge of the counter. The younger wolf decides to show a little mercy and push him back against the mirror, letting the soles of his feet find some balance.

It’s the only mercy Namjoon’s going to give, however, because his finger is sliding in and out of the man with unrelenting speed. And just when Jin’s tensing up a little less, body adjusting to the feeling, the second finger thrusts in with even more force.

“Still so tight. Gonna need three fingers to open you up.”

Jin shakes his head, “Can’t—fuck!—Can’t take three. Please, I’m too—ungh—tight.”

Namjoon uses his free hand to grab the wolf’s chin, demanding eye contact.

“Unless you say the safeword, only I decide how much you can take. Understood?”

“U-understood! Sorry Alpha!”

Contrasting his harsh tone, Namjoon’s eyes are dialed in on every movement Jin is making, fully aware of what his body language looks like when he’s at his limits—which isn’t right now.

No, right now he’s just being an absolute brat. And it’s Namjoon’s duty to make sure he fucks it out of him.

The third finger is especially brutal in the stretch, causing tears to pool around his eyes. It’s the best kind of pain, the kind that has him grow more and more slick—until the wetness is running down Namjoon’s hands and it feels like even four fingers could slide in easily. But a fourth never comes.

Instead, his hole is left empty and twitching as Namjoon slides down his own boxers—cock standing deliciously tall and dribbling pre-cum.

Jin closes his eyes, trying to take deep breaths to prepare for the intrusion, but even that luxury is taken from him. Because, before anything even goes near his hole again, the Alpha’s hand wraps around his throat—allowing just enough airflow to keep him conscience.

If Namjoon thought Jin was tight before, it’s nothing compared to now, when his restricted airways only make his hole clench even harder around nothing. It’s not just lust in the air, but a primal need to be as close as possible after three months of becoming strangers to each other’s bodies. Namjoon can’t have his mate forgetting the pleasure only he can give. Can’t have him thinking about any men outside of the pack just because he hasn’t provided his touch in a while.

He lines himself to the entrance, letting a deep growl escape his lips as the head pops in. The blonde’s eyes to widen to the size of saucers at the stretch, throat still too closed off to properly moan.

“Still good?”

Unable to speak, the beta signals a thumbs up sign, giving Namjoon the go ahead to keep pushing all the way in. Only when he’s bottomed out does he let go of Jin’s neck, opting to wrap around the man’s cock instead. Sounds of skin slapping get louder as Namjoon fully loses himself, reveling in the way his length is being squeezed.

The sound mixes effortlessly with Jin’s sultry moans—thankfully, the size of the mansion spares the sounds from blaring throughout the house.

Even if he wasn’t inside of him right now, this visual alone could drive Namjoon wild: his gorgeous packmate, with flushed cheeks and tightly shut eyes, chasing for an orgasm that’s just out of reach. It’s the kind of expression that makes him wish he was a full wolf—one that could give his mate a proper knot. Because god knows what Jin would’ve looked like getting knotted. The thought alone almost makes him lose it. But he calms himself down, mindful of his current mission: making sure the man in front of him is fucked utterly dumb.

“Who do you belong to?”

The wolf doesn’t—can’t—answer immediately, brain too wired from the cock drilling into him. But he manages to let out a whiny, barely intelligible “you.”

“Are you thinking of anyone else right now?”

Jin shakes his head no, almost violently. He barely knows where he is anymore, let alone any other name besides his Alpha’s. All that he can think about are the eight inches of pure bliss hitting against his prostate, and the big hand that’s sloppily stroking his length.

“Words, brat.”

“No! Only you! Only-ungh-you!”

It only takes a few more strokes for Jin to be pushed all the way over the edge, legs shaking as he rides his high, shooting strings of white on Namjoon’s chest in the process. The sight is all it takes for Namjoon’s orgasm to hit in tandem, all of his senses reaching their heights before disappearing entirely—until the only thing he can feel is the pleasure overtaking every nerve in his body. The two stay still for a moment, both fearing overstimulation from any movement as they stabilize their breaths.

It’s Jin who moves first, gently pushing the Alpha off of him. The two watch, mesmerized, at where they separate: the Alpha’s cum slowly leaking out onto the countertop. It’s so much cum.

“You’re lucky I’m back to feeling nice, or I would make you lick all of it up.”

Jin lets out an out-of-breath chuckle, body still leaned against the mirror, “I won’t waste a single drop next time. Promise.” The tiredness catches up to him, causing his eyes to close on their own as Namjoon cleans the mess.

“Come on baby, we should shower.”

“Too tired.”

“You don’t want to go out there all sticky and sweaty, do you?”

Jin whines for a moment, because the feeling of stickiness and sweat are definitely uncomfortable, but he also can’t feel his legs enough for a shower.

“Fine. But you have to carry me.”

Namjoon laughs while lifting the wolf up, letting him wrap his legs around his torso as he makes his way over to the stall. The warm water runs between both of their bodies, washing away every trace of the lewd acts that were just committed. Every trace except the smell of sex that lingers in the air, mixing with the orange and vanilla of the two hybrids. They stay like that for a while, hugging under the water as Namjoon hums a soft melody in Jin’s ear. Eventually, Namjoon does put the wolf down to properly wash him, supporting both of their body weights as the beta still can’t seem to stand.

“Was I too rough? It’s been so long…”

“You weren’t. I loved it. I love you.” Jin punctuates with a kiss, as deep and passionate as the first one they shared.

“I love you too. I’m sorry about Y/N.”

“And I’m sorry about Yoongi. I know you’re not his biggest fan.”

“So…where do we go from here?” It’s a rare moment, where Namjoon’s the one asking instead of answering. But the look on his face makes it clear that he really doesn’t know.

“We keep each other’s secret.”

Namjoon quirks up a brow as Jin further explains, “We keep it between us, manage our feelings, and the pack never has to know. I’m guessing that’s what you were planning on doing anyway, so just add me into it.”

Damn, Jin really did have him all figured out.

“Okay. We’ll keep it between us.”

Fool-proof plan, right?

____

A/N: Don't worry friends, Hobi was NOT listening to that filth. Baby was watching Netflix with Jimin on the other side of the mansion (after excitedly telling him about therapy <3)

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #ot7 x reader #poly bts #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #hurt/comfort

[rreids]

PROGRESS • S. REID X READER

semi-specific spoilers for 2 x 15 and the aftermath (specifically 3 x 16), hurt-comfort, tiny bit of smut (a handjob), probably incorrect information (mention of arousal being different but similar to adrenaline, i have no idea if this is true and refuse to do research), mentions of marriage, ~1.5k

Spencer was strong. You knew that.

You’d been with him every stop of the way through rehabilitation: through the relapses; held his hand and kissed away his tears as he fought the urges and ideas that he was worthless; told him he was stronger than anything and more resilient and beautiful than anyone you’d ever known.

One of his personal choices in his journey to get clean made sex harder — he was trying to learn how to temper all desire and urges, filter through what he deemed wouldn’t hurt or threaten his sobriety before making any impulsive decisions.

You hadn’t minded, content with the soft kisses and tickle of his eyelashes and beard against your skin as he silently thanks you for your care.

You loved his beautiful mind that ran a million miles a minute far more than you loved the pleasure from his body, and you knew you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. You wouldn’t have even cared if it was off the table.

You just wanted Spencer.

It’d been a few months since he decided to get clean, and as much as seeing him sob and writhe as he convinced himself he wasn’t irredeemable for slipping up crushed you every time, you knew it wasn’t about you.

Today was a hard day for him.

“Spence, baby,” you whisper, wiping his tears as he tells you about a recent case — the victim used, and the amount of himself Spencer saw in her terrified him —, lip quivering. “You’re okay. You have that coin, right? The one John gave you?”

He nods, leaning into your palm. He presses a kiss to your wrist and closes his eyes.

“You’ll get there. But struggling is okay. You know that, don’t you?”

Shuddering sobs wrack his body, breaths catching in ways that twist your heart, and you know he’s trying his best to calm down. “But what if I can’t?”

“You will, Spence,” you promise. “It’s worth it. We both know it. And we both know you’re strong enough to make it through this and come out better on the other side,” you kiss his forehead. “Besides, I’m here right alongside you. I won’t ever leave,”

Spencer sobs again, breathing ragged.

“I promise.” You answer his silent question, and he nods.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers out, voice scratchy. “You know that?”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one with the eidetic memory…” you trail off playfully, just for a moment, not long enough to make him worry. “I could never forget, baby.”

“I miss you,”

“We live together,”

“Not like that,” Spencer sighs. “I miss touching you. Feeling you.”

“You can have me whenever you want,” you promise him, brushing his curls out of his eyes. He was due for a trim, but you thought it was cute. “I’m yours.”

Spencer sighs, pushing past your hands and dropping his head to your shoulder.

“We go at your pace.”

“And if I think I’m ready?”

“Then we do what you’re comfortable with, and if you tap out, we stop. Your pace.”

Spencer nods, almost determined. It’s cute, and you have to fight back a laugh.

You smile despite your efforts, and the first kiss is more you two grinning against each other than a kiss. He takes the lead and slowly deepens it, careful and awkward like the first time you two ever tried to do more than steal pecks and hold hands.

His muscles are tense under you as you ghost your hands to his shoulders, and you gently work them as you kiss him.

“Are you giving me a massage?” He asks, confused and a little breathless.

“If I have to.” You smile, kissing his nose. “Relax, sweetheart. The second you wanna stop, just tap me two times. Nothing you don’t want.”

“Am I that tense?” Spencer tries to focus on muscles and force them to relax, but he’s too tightly wound.

“Would it be better if I give a massage first?” You ask, leaning down and peppering kisses to the side of his neck down to his collarbone. “Let you chill and then I ask before anything progresses?”

Spencer looks down, cheeks burning, and nods.

You don’t comment. He’s embarrassed enough, and you’re just happy to see him opening back up.

Tobias had left scars beyond the dots — that look more like freckles than any lasting trauma now — on his elbow. Though you suppose that was Tobias’s way of saving him from the worse scars from Rafael and Charles. Semantics. None of it mattered when your pretty boy was aching and worried under you.

“Lay down,” you urge, “take off your shirt if you’re ready. I’ll get your lavender lotion,”

It’s his favorite, a gift from his mom. You don’t tell him that he used up the one she gave him, since you dutifully rebuy and refill sneakily enough he doesn’t notice the volume shifting.

When you come back from the bathroom, he’s shirtless, fingers locked together and bracing his head.

“Gonna sit right above your thighs, sweetheart. Lotion’ll be cold,” you warn, and wait until he nods.

Then you settle and gently work through cords and muscles, slowly, patiently, methodically, a whispered warning and praise with every big move or change in pressure.

He melts under you, soft moans falling from his lips as you release pain he didn’t even know he had.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer breathes. “Can you… can you kiss me? Before we do anything,”

He’s curled in on himself a little, and you murmur an “of course” as he sits up and tugs the blanket over his chest. You know he’s never liked the bruises from field-work, but this is something more.

“You know I always find you pretty, right, Spence?” He tilts his head at you. “I don’t care about the ugly moments. You’re my pretty boy. You don’t have to hide anything.”

You stress that last word, and you see it click for him, and he slowly lets the blanket fall.

You kiss a bruise on his shoulder.

“Kiss me, Spencer,” you urge, and he smiles, leaning in and softly melding to you, fingers curling on your waist with practiced movements.

His body remembers, and it makes your heart flutter.

He sighs into your mouth, sweet and gentle. You can feel his pulse racing, his movements getting more excited and clumsy as he kisses down your neck.

“You’re so good, make me feel so, so good.”

Spencer smiles against your skin. “You make me feel good too.”

You know he means it more than physically, but that’s what he needs right now.

And you want to give it to him.

“Can we take your boxers off, Spence?”

He nods eagerly, and you carefully slide his pants off with them, avoiding another bruise on his hip from a tackle on the recent case.

“So pretty,”

And he is. Lean muscle, freckles and moles, tan and pale skin in equal parts, wrinkles, bruises, everything.

His cock, too, weeping pre-cum and a pretty pink at the tip.

“Thank you,” he sighs, gasping as you grasp him and stroke, slow and wet. He sets the pace, fucking into your grip and kissing you sloppily to it.

He’s lost technique, having avoided more intimate touch for so long, but the eagerness and anxiety means more to you than it being perfect.

He tenses again as he gets close, and you know it’s the adrenaline, the high. It feels too much like what he’s been fighting.

“Okay?”

Spencer swallows. “I don’t know,”

“What’s the difference between sexual arousal and adrenaline, baby?”

It distracts him, and it also guides him exactly where you want — that the bodily response may be similar, but the centers it lights up are different; the cause is different; he hasn’t done anything to jeopardize himself, he’s okay. He can let go of some of the control he had to regain, can slowly ease back up.

He’s safe.

He cums, gasping breaths tearing through him. As soon as you work him through it, you pull off and clean him.

“You did so good,” you praise, brushing his curls with your clean hand and stroking the skin on the nape of his neck. “You’re okay,”

Spencer nods and kisses you, no urgency, just the depths of his feelings. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too, Spence,” you try not to let the tears prick your eyes, but you know you fail when he furrows his brow at you. “I’m happy,” you reassure.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I just… I’m glad you feel safe enough to try. You know? It’s hard to watch you struggle.”

“It’s hard for me too,” he laughs, kissing your tears, a reversal of just an hour ago. “But I know what you mean. I’m sorry if it makes it hard for you.”

“No. It doesn’t,” you’re quick and firm in your reassurance. “I mean it when I say I will always be here for you. Good and the bad. In sickness and in health — though, maybe I should keep that unofficial until you put a ring on me.”

He laughs, boyish and free. The happiest he’s been in months. “Soon,”

#my works #mdni #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #cm spoilers #requested

[kelstey]

mattheo riddle ☆ focus

mattheo riddle x f!reader

contains smut

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

"mattheo, i've explained this several times, what do you mean you don't understand?" you crossed your arms as you stared at the hot, godsend of a brunette boy in front of you.

"i don't understand," mattheo shrugged and sat back in the library chair.

"i'm going to explain one more time, and if you still don't get it then i'm going to leave," you gave him a stern look.

"yes ma'am," matthe smirked and you ignored him.

you went over the details of the spell again, making sure to emphasise certain words and go slowly so mattheo's hollow brain could take in as much information as possible.

at the beginning of you two studying, he was focused. he knew what he was doing and you were able to make great progress- for two hours only, though.

"mattheo, fuck! just focus," you snapped at him. usually you would've gotten screamed at by the librarian but it was past closing times, she allowed you two to stay beyond curfew on the deal that whatever happened, like being caught in the library by another teacher, would not be her problem.

"how am i meant to focus when you look so good? i thought i could help myself but fuck," he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"and that's my problem how?" you shot him a death glare.

"is that an attitude i sense there?" he leaned forward.

"maybe, what are you gonna do about it?" you smirked back, knowing you were all bark and no bite.

"how about i fuck that attitude out of you?" mattheo's eyes remained on yours.

"yeah bet you'd love that, wouldn't you? but we have to get going with this studying," you huffed, slightly flustered but you weren't going to let him know he had that affect on you.

"i think i know a way that i could focus better," he smirked before getting up out of his seat and walking towards you.

"and that is?" you raised your eyebrow.

"let me eat you out while you read out those notes," he got on his knees in front of you.

you could've melted at the sight of mattheo fucking riddle being kneeled down in front of you. you felt the thin material of your thong quickly get soaked by the sight of him, his eyes quietly pleading at you.

"please?" he begged, his large veiny hands moved onto your knees, ever so slowly massaging up your thighs. you were beyond speechless- unaware of what to do or say, but you were absolutely loving it.

"if you don't want me to, you should saying something," mattheo said before kissing your thighs, each kiss making its way up to your skirt that was rolled up high. "such a slut aren't you? pulling your skirt so high, letting the whole school see what's all mine."

"mattheo, please," you breathed out as you could hear your own pulse from how desperate he got you in just a few seconds.

"yes ma'am," he said before pulling your legs apart, revealing your soaked underwear. "so wet for me already."

his gorgeous eyes flicked back up to yours, you watched him as he took a thumb up to your clothed clit before circling it ever so lightly. you threw your head back in pleasure despite him barely making any contact.

"tell me what you want," mattheo's thumb circled harder. his lips nipping down at the flesh on your thighs, undoubtedly leaving hickies but you couldn't care less, it felt amazing.

"i want you, i want your tongue eating me out," you moaned.

"that's what i like to hear," he smirked to himself before painfully and slowly taking your underwear off.

you opened up your notebook, trying to concentrate as mattheos mouth attached itself to your clit and quickly working on it. "fuck," you moaned.

mattheo's hands were cold, they found their way onto the sides of your thighs, holding on tightly as he did his magic.

"appare vestigium is the-" you couldn't even finish your sentence as you felt mattheo's tongue lap over your clit repeatedly. great heavens above.

you were puzzled when he quickly pulled away,

"keep reading."

you rolled your eyes and looked back over to your notes, "appare vestigium is a spell which," you held back a moan as mattheo stuck two fingers inside of you, "reveals the traces of magic-including spells- shit mattheo."

"keep going," he said while still going at it, the vibrations of his words made your back arch.

"it magically transports the caster to another location instantaneously," you bit down on your tongue, your hips grinding up onto his face and mattheo seemed to be enjoying every single second. "the destination is one that the primary user has been to or seen in some fashion previously. it can be used to apparate multiple people at once if holding each other. no incantation required."

your hands made its way into mattheos hair, pulling it slightly as he made your legs tremble in pleasure. "keep going," you moaned out.

"wasnt planning on stopping," he said. he pulled your legs over his shoulders, maintaining his grip on your thighs. you continued to ride his face, feeling your stomach tighten as mattheo made no efforts to slow down.

"mattheo- holy fuck," you barely breathed out,

"i'm gonna cum."

"cum for me, be a good girl and cum all over my face," his words only made you grow weaker as you rode out your high.

you sat back on the library seat, saying absolutely nothing yet so much was said. mattheo admired the state you were in, hair was a mess, your clothes all wrinkled, your legs shaking.

"i think i got the spell that last time," he laughed.

you shot him a glare, "you better have. i dont think i can do anymore." you went to stand up but quickly fell onto the table, your arms barely being able to hold you in place as your legs continued to ache.

"wonder who got you into that state," mattheo laughed before walking back to you. "allow me." he carried you bridal style out of the library and made his way to your dorm.

"think you can get into bed by yourself?" he asked.

"if you're asking to sleep over then just do it," you rolled your eyes playfully.

"you shouldn't be giving me that attitude, look where it got you last time," he said, referring to your current state of being unable to walk.

"shut up, riddle."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddlesmut #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #slytherin boys #slytherin #fanfic #fantasy

[teyamsatan]

more stepbro neteyam please im begging you on my knees pls

my panties are soaked, i'm writing this in a cafe and i am struggling to keep my composure. enjoy, anonnie. (also thank you to @cinetrix for making sure that my obsession for this man will literally never die down.)

warnings: smut (stepcest, p in v, semi-public sex - people are sleeping in same tent, pet names, slight praise kink, slight softdom!neteyam), strong language, cursing

wc: 1.7k words

You awake from your slumber with a low groan at the way the chills have overtaken your body, the dead of night furthering the discomfort you feel and the way you come to yearn for muted alleviation. You look around your adoptive family’s marui, desperate to find someone you could cuddle up to, anyone who could provide your body the warmth it craved.

Despite how much they bickered, Lo’ak and Kiri were twin souls, and they always made peace at night, sharing a woven blanket and a warm embrace. You smiled at them, shaking your head lightly at how easily forgotten all their fights seemed to be as soon as eclipse took over the land, as soon as the cover of bioluminescent darkness enveloped their consciousness. Tuk was nestled tightly in between Jake and Neytiri, and you were almost worried she would be suffocated in their grasp, one of each their arms meeting on her tiny frame, holding her close.

That left Neteyam, who seemed fast asleep on one side, one of his arms beneath his head and the other rested carelessly over his waist and abdomen, and you couldn’t help stare at this man you loved like a brother, but ached for in ways that made you ashamed and embarrassed, that you could never admit to out loud, that you were scared to even think about most days, afraid that the intensity of those thoughts was so loud, they could be heard, and Eywa, that would lead to a whole slew of issues you were too scared to even conceptualise.

But despite the way you hindered your own brain from deliberating on the way you wanted him in ways you could never have him, it didn’t stop said brain from manifesting your wildest desires in dreams and reveries, in the way you woke up each night sweating and with slick running down your ass or thighs and soaking into your mat, the way it was taunting you with images of his body, strong and powerful, muscular and lean, contracting and flexing as his cock sank deeper and deeper in you, filling the void you felt every day of your life, that you only want him to fill. 

You get up quietly and make your way to him, dragging your thin covers with you to where he lay, getting on your side so your back was to him, nuzzling until you felt his chest taut against you, until his heartbeat rang loudly in you, until it overtook your own, until it was all you heard, and all you felt. The closeness hurt you, the ache reaching new heights, and it was overwhelming as his hand instinctively reached for your body, in his sleep, his touch lighting your skin on fire, his fingers lingering on your ribs. His unyielding grip pulled you so close, your ass was rested against his groin, and you let out a sharp exhale when you noticed he was hard, when you noticed his loincloth was damp. His voice startled you as he spoke, quiet as the night that still blanketed your world and your progressively untethered self, doing a good job of hiding your disheveled form or the blush in your cheeks, but not a good job at protecting you from the increase luminosity of your freckles or the moans that escaped you when his thick cock brushed against your folds. 

“What are you doing here, pretty girl?” His mouth was near your lips, his breath fanning over the side of your face and neck, sending chills down your body and all of a sudden you didn’t know whether you were cold or hot anymore, your body struggling to comprehend all the sensations being elicited in it, in you. 

You swallowed loudly, trying to find your voice in your throat and breath in your lungs enough to be able to pull together a string of sounds that would sound normal and relaxed, and not breathy and wanting, like you knew they would be. 

“I’m cold, ’Teyam, and you were the only lonely one.” He let out a quiet chuckle and his hand started tracing your body softly, a touch so light it was barely there, and the chills deepened, goosebumps appearing in his touch’s wake. 

“Well, not anymore, and thank fuck for cold nights, huh?” his hands didn’t stop when they reached your navel, slowly inching their way south, and you whimpered a little knowing where they were going, unwilling and unable to understand what was happening to you, whether this was a dream or a nightmare, whether you were actually living this and it wasn’t just a vivid vision here to taunt you, before morning came and took it away from you forever. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing?” Your voice was breathy and weak, but alert nonetheless, aware of the situation and your adoptive family sleeping peacefully next to you, and how easy it would be for anyone to wake up and any point and witness this. The shame and fear was almost as overwhelming to you as the desire to give in to him, no questions asked, no care in the world for consequences and risks as long as it ended with your eyes rolled in the back of your head and his cum dripping down you thighs. 

“I’m not doing anything, little sis. Just here to make sure you’re… warm. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t help my step-sister when she clearly needs me?” The amused tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the way his fingers slipped past your loincloth and found your clit, that was swollen and needy, or the way they ghosted over it and your folds in scant, fluttery touches.

“Your smell has been driving me crazy for weeks, sevin. For weeks, I’ve had to pretend to be ignorant of the way your scent has been calling out to me, your pheromones washing over me and making my cock so hard, I can’t concentrate anymore. For weeks, I have dreamt of fucking you, of slipping my cock past your sopping folds, dreamt of seeing you come apart around me. It’s so fucking wrong, but so are you. And so am I.” You shuddered at his words and how his sharp canines dragged along your pulse point, at how his fingers stilled on your clit, not giving you the release you desperately craved, at how his lips pressed on your jaw and sucked, or how they licked the spot that was now slightly hurting, immediately alleviating any discomfort you felt. 

“But I need to hear you say it, baby girl. I can’t do anything until you say it. Do you want your step brother to fuck you?” 

A moan and a small nod is all you managed in response, but it was enough for Neteyam, who started a slow caress of your bud, putting just enough pressure to make you pant, to adjust your position so he would get better access, arching your back so that your ass was pressed even tighter against him and he groaned lowly, the sound making you clench around thin air. 

“Please, Neteyam…” 

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

“You… your cock, please.” His groan evolved into a quiet growl, reverberating in the marui and you both stilled as Kiri shifted a little in her sleep. Her deep breaths put you both at ease, if only a little. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you have any idea what you do to me? What I’ll do to you?” 

You felt his cock brush against your folds as he released it from the constraints of his nightwear, and the velvety feel of his thick length made your head fall back into the crook of his neck, needing every spare ounce of self-restraint not to moan so loudly it wouldn’t just be heard in your family’s tent, but in the whole clan. His tip prodded at your soaking wet entrance, and when he slipped past your folds and into you, each inch felt like every one of your dreams come true, and you no longer had enough brain power to stop the mewling sounds escaping you. 

“You need to be quiet, sevin. You don’t want anybody to hear, now do you? What do you think our parents would say if they saw how deep in your pretty little cunt I am, huh?”

When he bottomed out, his tip was pushed against your cervix and the way he filled you up was beyond any fantasy, better than even the most intense ones, the wildest ones, the best ones. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Who knew my little step sister would take my cock so well, like this tight pussy was made for me?” 

He started an unrushed, languid pace of his hips, that got quicker and more aggressive, more desperate and sloppy as his own orgasm approach and you felt yours taking over you slowly, raising in intensity as his fingers continued their ministrations of your clit at the same time, until it was so intense it was overpowering and oppressive, until you needed to let it out so you wouldn’t collapse under its weight. 

“I can feel you squeezing me, baby. You want to milk me, want to take my cum like the good girl you are?” 

You nodded furiously, and his whispered, breathy “Then come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you, all of you.” pushed you over the edge, your orgasm violent and unending, streams of liquid mixing with his own release as you squirted all over his cock, making a mess of both your loincloths and the sleeping mat underneath. You couldn’t care less about explaining yourself, not when your head was empty and your cunt full, the only way you wanted to be every day going forward, for the rest of your life. 

You both came off your high panting, struggling to catch your breath and any thoughts swirling aimlessly in your brain, and you couldn’t find it in you to move, and he couldn’t find it in him to pull out, so you just lay like that, him spooning you closely, licking stripes over your neck and jaw, and you felt desire build in you again, instant and frenzied.

“Next time, how about we put that pretty mouth of yours to good use, huh?” 

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia

#༊*·˚ andra's works #neteyam #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfic #neteyam reader #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar twow #avatar fanfic #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam sully fanfiction #neteyam angst #awow #awow neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam x y/n #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam drabble #avatar drabble #avatar x reader #stepbro!neteyam #stepbro!neteyam x reader #avatar smut

[pyro-chaos]

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Pt: 3 Friday Nights

Summary: Abby’s first sleepover gives you and Mike some alone time.

The friendship continues

Tropes: fluff, sultry thoughts but no explicit smut.

Word count: 3337

And they were roommates…

Pt. 3 of This Series

A\N: Hey!! So I’m a bit more insecure about this one than I am with my previous two parts. I still think it’s sweet, and I like how it turned out, but let me know if I should do a rewrite!!

“I mean truly, the stark change within Abby…”

The school counselor’s words fall on ears occupied with something else.

“….I mean I’ve never seen…”

Mike tried to pay attention - at the beginning - but eventually the words tangled together to create a meaning the counselor could’ve communicated with one or two sentences.

“… so quickly. Whatever you’re doing, it’s clearly…”

Plus, Mike has more important things on his mind.

“… good that she has someone like you.”

Mike barely catches the end of her…seemingly endless lecture.

He hears the compliment. It feels unwarranted but Mike politely grins anyway.

Mike has questions. He has so many questions.

The problem that the counselor is referring to… Abby healed it on her own, mostly. Her friends helped her - but crawling out of her shell - thats all her. Mike just made sure she didn’t die. Even then…

He still feels stabbing guilt; a lot of the time. For what he almost did.

“Sh - She gets nightmares, sometimes,” Mike does too, but this isn’t about him.

“is” he gulps down the lump in his throat, “- is there anything I can do?”

The counselor folds her hands together like she’s trying to explain something to a feral child. Mike recognizes the gesture. It’s not one of genuine kindness; it’s the kind of gesture someone enacts when dealing with a delicate situation.

“Does she talk to anyone? About the nightmares.”

Mike huffs, “she’s pretty tight lipped about it,” but he knows that she wants them to stop.

“No,” the counselor almost sounds amused, Mike tries not to let the tone offend him.

“I mean does she talk to anyone about it.”

Ah. He gets it now.

“You mean like a shrink?” He questions.

The counselor nods and gives him a look doused in sympathy. It makes Mike want to get up and leave.

“Can’t afford it.”

“Ah,” she says, before launching into another lecture about how to avoid dreams, and calm anxiety before bed.

Mike listens this time.

The day after the meeting, Mike goes about his day.

Everything goes how it’s supposed to go. He goes to work, coordinates with his project supervisor, and eats lunch.

Until he gets a call from Abby’s school.

When Mike’s coworker, Jordan, calls him out of the work room, he says it’s an emergency.

Mike’s heart fucking palpitates. He almost drops the damn drill.

He’s never struggled to take off his gloves, or unclip the bulky helmet, but he does now. His hands get clammy and hot. It gets hard to breathe.

Mike’s still has the safety goggles on when he gets to the phone.

“Hello? What’s wrong?”

Abby’s voice comes through the other end, “Can I have a sleepover with Selina?”

Mike exhales. He rips the safety goggles off and rubs the bridge of his nose.

He takes one more deep breath before answering, “Is that all you called to ask?”

Abby confirms before launching into an explanation, “Please, please. Katy is going, and so is Josie and Sofia and they’re making cookies and Silena has a trampoline.”

Mike’s tapping the phone, his fingers feel tingly and that urge to hold his breath comes back, “Look, I don’t think that’s a good -“

“- No, It’s fine. They have a trampoline Mike, please.”

She doesn’t get it.

That’s the hardest part. She doesn’t understand that she’s not safe at someone else’s house. Overnight? What if there’s a fire? or what if she can’t sleep?

Mike remembers the school counselor's words about Abby’s progress. He would’ve taken her opinion with a grain of salt, if he didn’t see it for himself.

Even according to Mike’s independent observation; Abby’s started to smile around other kids a lot more compared to before.

In fact, she’s planning fucking sleepovers with other kids.

Mike thinks about his mom.

What would their parents do?

“I want to talk to Selina’s parents first.”

So, Mike does end up talking to Selina’s parents.

He meets them in the parking lot after school.

They explain the whole ordeal. Their plans and the occasion that sparked the sleepover.

They seem normal. They remind Mike of coworkers his dad used to invite to 4th of July grills.

The mom - Janice - works at the hospital, and the dad - Sean - works at a bakery.

Sean and Janice give Mike their house address. So, he knows where to drop off Abby after she goes home to pick up clothes and a sleeping bag.

When Mike enters the car, he’s greeted with two sets of expectant gazes.

Mike’s eyes shift between the two of you, Abby’s grinning, but you just look sheepish.

Mike rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, “make sure to pack your toothbrush.”

Abby smiles on the way home.

You're in the living room when just Mike walks through the door.

You have pajamas on, and you’re lounging on a loveseat tilted towards the TV. A mug of wine rests on the coffee table. Along with some type of cheese and cracker.

Something smells good.

“There’s food on the stove, it should still be hot” you call, then eat a cracker.

Mike beelines a straight shot to the kitchen, “Thanks.”

You mhm through a mouthful.

Mike can’t wait to eat, but when he reaches for a plate he sees the specks of sawdust layering his clothes.

He clenches his jaw, and counts backwards from ten.

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna shower first, but if you leave the dishes I’ll do them later.”

Your eyes stay glued to the TV, “Okay, there’s also wine on the top of the fridge. If you want any.”

Mike showers and dresses. When he returns to the kitchen, the quietness hits him square in the face.

Abby’s not in the house, and it feels like he’s forgetting something important - Like his keys are missing, or he lost his wallet - It puts him on edge.

Despite his unease, something sweet and warm, like syrup, spreads through Mike when he serves himself a portion of dinner.

It’s mostly covered up by the gray-haired worry about Abby at someone else’s house, but Mike won’t deny the comfort of having a good meal, and wine, after working.

Mike doesn’t know how he did it when he lived alone with Abby. He had to cook, clean, and pay bills. All on his own.

Back before you, Mike would have to leave in thirty minutes for his second shift of the day.

Mike wonders if Abby enjoys the new schedule as much as he’s enjoying it.

He brings the food and the wine to the coffee table, and sits on the sofa adjacent to your loveseat.

Mike has no idea what the fuck you’re watching, but it seems…interesting.

He doesn’t care to complain, though. It’s not like he’s invested in the show.

A few beats of comfortable silence fly by before you speak, “How was work?”

Your question feels like an embrace. It’s the type of question that someone asks when they want to talk, but can’t think of anything else to say.

You want to talk to Mike, and it makes him feel some type of way.

Maybe it’s not that deep.

“Good - long - what’re we watching?”

“No idea. I think she,” you point to a character, “wants to do something that he-” you point to a different character, “doesn’t like. So, she’s going behind his back and stuff. But I’m just watching this because I like the show that comes on next, and I don’t wanna miss it.”

Mike hums through his food. He kind of wants to ask why you’re not going out. It’s Friday night.

Are you feeling alright? What’s different about this Friday from all the other Fridays?

Instead he does the dishes.

When he returns, he’s still not really paying attention to your show. Even though, every now and then you’ll add commentary. He just mhm’s through it.

Does Abby remember his number in case she wants to go early? What if she gets too cold in their house? What if she has a nightmare? Would she call him?

His fingers are pulling apart the threads at the arm of the couch, and his leg is bouncing.

He drinks more wine.

“- about it?”

Mike snaps out of his head, “uh,” he tries to blink himself awake, “- sorry, what?”

You shrug and gesture to his fingers pulling apart the couch, “you’re um,” you clear your throat, “you seem… off. Do you want to talk about it?”

He…didn’t even notice that he was fidgeting with the threads like that.

“Oh,” he chuckles, but the sound comes out sounding more awkward, and nervous than amused, “is it that obvious?”

“No, no not at all,” you make eye contact with him, and that creamy comfort returns to make a sugary home in Mike’s chest.

“Well…” you begin, “…Kinda, yeah.”

This time, the laugh you pull out of Mike sounds genuine. Even to him.

It’s not a huge laugh, more of a happy scoff really, but it makes him feel a little better nonetheless.

“It’s just…” Mike starts, and you direct your body to face him instead of the TV.

Even though your show is playing. You want to listen to Mike more than you want to watch your show.

He has to fight down a smile, “…this is the first time Abby’s had a sleepover.”

Your mouth makes an O-shape, and you nod like you’ve got it all figured out.

“Yeah, the first time is always the hardest.”

That makes Mike think. How would you know?

“My mom used to get so nervous when my brother started going to sleepovers,” you add.

Your understanding of his nervousness makes sense, given the backstory, but there’s a detail in that sentence about you, and it means something to him.

“You have siblings?”

You nod excitedly, “a brother and a sister.”

Mike literally has no idea how he’s never heard about this before, “how - how old are they?”

“My sister’s seventeen. She’s a junior in High school,” you’re talking with your hands as you talk about your siblings. You seem excited, It’s making Mike smile.

“You should see her play sports, she's the Volleyball team captain this year…”

For real, you’re talking about them like you’re proud, and the genuine joy in your tone makes Mike want to crawl up next to you.

“- and my brother’s heading into middle school but he’s such a sweet kid. He used to get so excited when we went to the park. He loves to climb trees.”

It sounds like you haven’t seen them in a while.

The stories connect a few dots for Mike, though. This is why you’re good with Abby.

You and Mike end up talking more, he blames the wine.

Apparently, he gets chatty when he feels that familiar alcohol-induced warmth in his stomach.

Eventually, he asks why you didn’t go out on a Friday night.

The answer is much simpler than he expects.

“My show finally came out with a new season, and the new episodes air on Fridays.”

Mike snickers. His amusement comes at the expense of himself. Of course it was something simple, he doesn’t know why he even bothered to speculate.

He doesn’t expect you to return the question. But you do.

“ - it’s your night off, Abby’s taken care of, and don’t you miss going out and doing your own thing?”

Well, to be honest, he never really had the time. For years, Mike spent nights occupied with…something he doesn’t need to do anymore.

He can’t tell you that, though.

So he says, “Nah, I never went out. Even before Abby.”

“Is it ‘cause you don’t like crowded spaces?”

Mike doesn’t think too hard about that, but he snickers because it feels like you pulled it out of a hat.

He snickered again. He’s doing that a lot around you.

It’s probably just the wine.

“No? Just never had the time.”

You nod, but then you get that wide-eyed excited look that you got when you asked Mike to move in with you,

“Wanna go out tonight?”

If anyone, ever, asked about why Mike agreed as quickly as he did, he’d blame the wine. He’d blame the wine until he went blue in the face and died of suffocation.

He doesn’t even admit to himself that the wine isn’t the reason he said yes.

After he agrees, you tell him about a place that you think he’d like.

You say that it’s, “like a botanical garden, but they put lights up, and serve food, at night.”

You tell him that it’s not crowded, like a bar or club, because technically it’s a fancy place, and that’s why you both need to change clothes before calling a cab.

So, Mike calls a cab. Then, he puts on a button-down shirt, and throws on a pair of his nice jeans.

Still, he feels slightly, very, underdressed compared to you.

You come out of your room wearing an elegant little black dress that hugs parts of you in a way that makes Mike blush and breathe heavy.

Your neck stays uncovered. He sees the skin where the hickies used to be, but this time there’s no hickies.

Mike can think of a way to change that.

His dick jumps, and he wishes he could do something about it.

You make him feel things that he doesn’t want to feel.

“You ready?” You ask, and Mike has to swallow and take a deep breath to keep himself in check.

He’s very ready. Just, not in the way you think.

“Uh, yeah. Are - are you?”

You smile and nod.

The cab drive goes well. Mike’s getting used to the tightness in his pants.

So, that place that you’d said he’d like, he does.

At first, it felt like he didn't belong. A lot of people dressed better than him, many have their hair in hairstyles, and he can’t pronounce more than half the food on the menu.

You can, though.

To be fair, the menu ended up as a non-problem; because after you pointed out the prices, Mike gave you a look, and you gave him the same look back.

You both scurried out of the seating area before an employee could take any orders.

Mike likes the botanical garden.

He likes how you talk in the botanical garden.

It costs to get in, but it’s gorgeous.

It's the twilight hour when you walk through the pathway together.

Sometimes your arms brush.

Every time it happens, Mike’s heart fills with something, but you don’t seem affected.

He glances at your fingers throughout the walk. He starts to note the little divots in your palms. How would they feel against his? Would you be mad? If Mike picked up your hand and kissed the palm?

You talk about the practical uses of plants that you see. Mike learns that dried-up yarrow leaves can help clot blood. He also learns that solar energy powers the lights shining on the rows of green life.

You talk about how cool it is, that the owners made this place one-hundred-percent sustainable, and he can’t help but agree.

Your smile infects him with feelings that flutter through his arteries, and you’re smiling a lot.

Eventually, conversation lulls, but it’s the nice kind of lull. It’s a quiet comfort, like warm sheets and fresh tea.

There’s a greenhouse exhibit towards the end of the pathway. A worker checks in your coat, then tells you where to pick it up at the end of the exhibit.

When he first steps inside, Mike nearly goes into shock over the change in temperature. It’s hot, and he has to roll up his sleeves immediately or risk complaining about it.

It doesn’t help.

The place smells good, though; like moist soil and moss.

The greenhouse has fairy lights hanging overhead, and multicolored flowers decorate the pathway.

It’s laid out like a maze, the illuminated path winds around little islands of floral beauty.

Mike likes the palm trees. Most of them have pretty colored lights wrapped around the trunk.

It’s nice, Mike won’t deny the otherworldliness of the beauty, but honestly, he wouldn’t enjoy it as much if you weren’t there.

You bring a certain excitement to the excursion that Mike doesn’t think he can feel on his own.

You ask him if he likes plants, and honestly, he’s never thought about it.

He shrugs says they’re nice, because they are, and they’re starting to remind him of you.

His shirt collar is drenched in sweat by the time you two get to the end of the greenhouse.

He’s self-conscious about the wetness at first, but then he sees your neck.

It makes him want to do other things that would make you sweat.

The garden isn’t that populated right now. He could do it, if you wanted it too.

Lift up your skirt, press his dick against the plush of your ass. He’d nuzzle his nose into the crook of neck, and breathe you in before dragging his tongue along your nape.

He’d grab a fistful of your tits from the front of your dress.

He would take off your panties, but he wouldn’t give them back. He’d keep them in his pocket like a treasured souvenir.

Would you like it? If Mike made you walk around with wetness staining your inner thighs?

Maybe you’d find it demeaning, to be forced to walk around like that, but maybe you wouldn’t.

Mike’s very glad that it’s nighttime, because it’s too dark for you to see the outline of his half-hard dick.

The pathway leads to an outdoor bar.

The counter rests under a gazebo-like structure. Vines curl around the pillars like the lights on the palm trees, and quiet music plays over the chatter of the customers.

The bartender greets you by name.

You introduce the bartender to Mike as Miranda, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s seen her before.

Miranda comments on it before he does. Mike probably wouldn’t have anyway.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you before, you’re the roommate right?” Miranda asks, and Mike gives her a tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah, it’s nice to officially meet you,” he returns.

“Yeah you too,” she says, “Anyway, is there anything I can get you guys? Completely on the house.”

You get a little wide-eyed at that, “Hey no, it’s okay, we can -“

“- I still owe you for dinner last week, remember? It’s fine. Tequila sunrise?”

You ease into your barstool, a soft, yeah spilling from your lips.

Mike thinks it's cute.

However, Miranda’s attention moves to Mike, and his panic chases away the good feelings.

Mike’s never been to a bar like this before. He’s not sure what to order, he’s not sure how, “uh, what do you have?”

Miranda gestures to the bottles behind her, “I can make anything as long as we have the ingredients. What do you usually drink?”

He doesn’t.

“Do you have anything…” Mike’s cheeks are heating, he can feel it, it’s making him feel dumb, “…non-alcoholic?”

Miranda doesn’t judge his inability to order quickly. It helps.

“Yeah, I can do virgin drinks. What were you thinking?”

God, all these questions. He doesn’t like turning down free shit, but he’s starting to feel tempted to.

“What’s popular?”

“Piña Coladas and Strawberry Daiquiris are the most popular virgin drinks, but we also have fountain drinks if that sounds better.”

“Strawberry Daiquiris are good, they’re like slushies.” You interject.

Mike orders a Strawberry Daiquiri.

When Miranda leaves, Mike feels like he can breathe again.

Mike wonders, if you notice the nervousness behind the way he’s crossing his arms, because you smile, and tell him that he looks nice in a button-down.

Miranda returns with free drinks before he can think himself into a hernia.

Abby would like the Strawberry Daiquiri.

For the rest of the night, Miranda makes stops at yours and Mike’s corner of the bar.

Miranda’s presence made Mike uncomfortable at first, because he doesn’t know her, but your friend pulls him into conversations in ways that he doesn’t mind.

It helps that Mike likes how you look at him when Miranda asks him a question.

He likes how you’re paying attention to him, even when your friend is right in front of you.

Miranda comes out from behind the bar when you mention that it’s getting late.

She gives you a hug first, then she shakes Mike's hand.

Her touch makes him think of your palms.

When the two of you get home, it’s just a little past 10 p.m.

Mike wants to thank you, for showing him a place like that, and for spending your evening with him.

He didn’t have to spend the night cooped up, worrying himself into a frenzy, because you brought him out.

The gratitude gets stuck in his throat.

What does he say? Hey, thanks for spending a night around me! Let’s do it again sometime!

Well, sure, he could say that, but he would rather stay quiet.

He doesn’t want to come off too strong, he doesn’t want to give you a peek into the meat of him.

He’s surprised when you say something.

“Thank you for coming out. I had fun.”

The words come out a little awkwardly, like you’re unsure.

Mike’s eyes find yours, and the little smile in the corner of your lips makes him feel better - despite the quiet house.

He licks his lips and offers you a similar small grin, “Yeah, Me too.”

And he means it.

A/N: Although I feel conflicted about this chapter, I’m very thankful for the love you’ve given me on the previous two!

I hope you enjoyed!

#fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #josh hutchinson

[linos-luna]

Can you make a yandere lee know sadist story?

Pretty please............

Bruh there's another request in my inbox asking for a masochist Lino... y'all crazy lol. but who am I to judge? 😭

Ask and you shall receive...

———————————————————

His Urges ❣️🔪

Yandere!Sadist!Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere!, Smut, MDNI, biting, sadism, dub con, crying, fear kink, spanking, toxic relationship,

——————————————————— 🔪

It was an incredibly strong urge and for a while he did his best to suppress it but lately it's been difficult. You were just so cute and innocent!

You already knew your boyfriend to be quite possessive and maybe a tad bit controlling but maybe that was normal right? I mean he says he loves you. He always talks about how you're his soulmate and how he wants to shield you from the cruel world. You don't even have to work as he promised to take care of you. Sure he could be a little e rough at times but... not like this...

It was an innocent little date night. After a homemade dinner, you sat with him on the couch, leaning your head on his shoulder as Netflix played. Minho wasn't paying too much to the movie and was massaging your hand. He rubbed your fingers, loving how delicate they looked: just so perfect...

Slowly, he started to squeeze your fingers together. It wasn't too hard at first but progressively got harder.

You didn't think much of it at first but it slowly got more and more painful.

"M-Minnie...?" You asked a bit confused while looking at him, trying to pull away.

Minho didn't answer, instead squeezing even harder as he stared at your hand. It was as if he was lost in the moment.

"Minho! You're hurting me!"

Your sudden yell startled him and he immediately let go.

"W-why'd you do that??"

"I-I'm sorry, Kitten..." he said bluntly. "I didn't even realize... what was happening there..." He paused while looking at your eyes that were tearing up. Sure, he felt a little bad for seeing you cry but at the same time... not? In the moment, he felt quite excited actually and his heart was racing.

You only frowned while rubbing your hand and stood up. "I-I think I should go to bed now..."

"No wait!" Minho suddenly grabbed you by the wrist and kept you in place.

"P-Please let go..."

"No!" He yelled suddenly while standing up, scaring you quite a bit. "Hold on, Kitten."

"M-Minnie.... I-I just wanna go to bed is all..." you stuttered as he squeezed your wrist hard.

"Don't leave yet, our date isn't finished!" He said, sounding frustrated. "Please."

You stopped pulling and looked at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. He wiped away your tears with his other hand and sighed. "I'm sorry, pretty girl... I couldn't help it..."

"C-Couldn't help what..."

He was quiet, only looking at your wrist that he was still holding.

"Hurting me....?"

He nodded.

"Y-You like... Hurting me...?" you asked, getting concerned.

"... Yes..." he admitted, which had you surprised.

"It's sick... isn't it?" He had an unnerving chuckle that made you want to back away. "Sit down, Kitty."

"M-Minnie..."

"Don't be like this." He shook his head and sat down, pulling you by the wrist to sit next to him. "only 20 more minutes of the movie."

He could care less about the movie at this point. He just wanted you to stay here with him. He just wants to hold you.

After a moment of hesitation, you sat back down. Perhaps he just drank too much wine earlier... no way he was serious... At least that's what you told yourself.

~~~~~~

As the movie continued, Minho rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. You were finally able to relax a bit and he would even give you gentle kisses on the cheek, whispering little praises in your ear. By the end of the movie, he was kissing your lips and carried you to the bedroom. Once he sat you on the bed, it got a little more heated as he gave more passionate kisses, using his tongue to dominate. You enjoyed it as he felt around under your shirt and kissed down you neck... that is, until he started squeezing your waist harshly and nipping at your neck. You moaned a bit, not exactly in pleasure, but in pain. He took that as a sign to keep going as he bit harder along your neck, finally making you cry out and try pushing him away.

"Minnie!" you gasped as he pushed you to your back and smirked down at you while pulling your hair.

"What's wrong, Kitten?" he chuckled. "can''t handle a little pain? you're so cute...."

"Stop it!"

"-Or what?!" he replied with a devious smile as he suddenly grabbed your jaw. "What are you gonna do about it, Kitten?"

You only looked at him in fear. He was right, what were you gonna do? you were pinned.

"That's what I thought." He chuckled while kissing down your neck.

More tears rolled down your cheeks as he lifted your shirt and left kisses on your bare breasts. The kisses were quite soft compared to the way his nails were digging into your waist. You tried stopping him by grabbing his hands but Minho seemed to find your struggle funny and keep going while sucking at your breast.

You attempted to grab him by the head before you were suddenly grabbed by both wrists and pinned.

"You like this huh?"

"No I don't!" you yelled back.

"No I think you like playing these little games." He chuckled. It's okay, kitten, I'll Keep playing with you. I'm not done. Behave for me, will you?"

~~~

That was only the beginning. Minho found some sort of sick pleasure from hurting you. And you? Well you just took it. There was no way out. You tried so many times but you were always caught and the punishments only got worse.

You loved him still but not like this. He said he couldn't't control it but you thought that was bullshit. There's no way...

The sex was rough, full of biting and hair pulling. He had no limits, in fact he liked seeing that scared look on your face. It turned him on so much and as time went on, he got more and more... Sadistic.

You were practically screaming as he railed you into the bed. After a long day at work, he had decided to fuck all his frustration into you.

Originally, he promised to not be so rough but that was a lie. Admittedly, it was a little pleasurable at first but then it became too much. Third round and he still had just as much energy from when you first started.

"Min- Min- Min-!" you whimpered as your face was pressed into the sheets. "T-Too Much!" it was obvious that you were very overstimulated.

"C'mon, Kitten..." he panted. One more time." He chuckled before pulling you up by the hair, making you scream. "one more time for me..."

It's not like you had much of a choice so again you came... for the third time.

You were weak and exhausted, nearly limp under him as he held you by the hair. once he was fully satisfied, Minho pulled out and laid you on your back.

"You're such a good kitten..." he said softly while kissing your forehead. "I love you so much..."

~~~~~~

This wasn't getting any better. Nearly everyday he'd be rough with you. It left you with bruised that you often had to cover - if he even let you out. at all. You wanted to leave but he catches you every time and in a way... you feel bad. Minho wasn't a bad person... right? He just had these urges. It's not like he'd kill you or hurt you on purpose right? It was delusional thinking and you knew it. He needed help. This pleasure he got from your pain was just sadistic.

He'd spank you at random or randomly pull your hair. He'd squeeze your hand as a warning or pinch your sensitive thighs. It brought him pleasure. In the moment, it brought him so much pleasure... He knows its wrong... But he can't help it...

So here you were, sprawled across his lap, taking what had to be your 12th spank to your bare ass. It was red snd sore, tears stained your cheeks.

"Is my kitty gonna listen now?" he asked while rubbing the reddened skin.

"Y-Yes!" you whimpered.

"Good girl. Now back on your knees." he said with a smile before pushing you to the floor. "You're going to listen now, right?"

You nodded, only to get slapped.

"What?!"

"Y-yes! I-I'll listen!" you cried out.

"See Kitty, its that simple..." Minho rubbed your cheek.

"I-I'm sorry...."

"You should be." He grunted. "You scared me! I had no idea where you were! I thought we were soulmates, y/n. Why would you leave?"

I'm sorry..." you repeated as tears formed again.

"I know you are, Kitten..." He said while rubbing your cheek. "You still love me?"

" Yes..."

As odd as it was, you still did so it wasn't a lie...

Minho was pretty satisfied with that answer and helped you up so you could lay in bed.

After tucking you in, Minho laid next to you and sighed while gently rubbing your cheek.

"I'm sorry, Kitten...." he whispered while looking at you, seemingly feeling some shame. "I wish... I wish I could control it... I... I really do love you..." he said with a genuine tear of guilt running down his cheek. "I-I hope you can forgive me..."

------------------------------------------------

You're not supposed to feel bad for him... but he is self aware so...

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x poc reader #stray kids smut #kpop smut #stray kids yandere #minho smut #skz minho yandere #yandere #yandere skz #yandere minho #yandere lee know #yandere stray kids #yandere lino #yandere kpop #lee know smut #lee know yandere #lee know fanfic #lee know angst

[the-winter-smoulder]

For The First Time

For The First Time

Characters: Bucky x Virgin!reader

Word Count: 1969

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, fluff, smut, virginity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Language!

A/N: This was a request from my dear friend @Gemma. I hope this is everything you ever wanted and more 😊

You and Bucky had been dating for a few months, and things were starting to, uh, progress.

Last night, you could tell he really wanted to take things further, and you did too, but you hadn’t had “the talk” with him yet.

But now, feeling the way you did about him, and those damn urges taking over, you had to tell him your secret.

You’re a virgin.

Ugh… the dreaded “V” word. You assumed, though you did not know for sure, that Bucky was not a virgin, and try as you might, it felt a little awkward for you to bring it up. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but it’s just an awkward conversation. You never had to talk about doing hand stuff or oral, but this was different. This was far more intimate for you.

Bucky had agreed to take it slow when you first started going out, but you hadn’t had a conversation about it since, so the idea made you a little nervous.

As you waited for him to come over for your date, you couldn’t help but to start to feel anxious.

Why didn’t I just tell him before. It’s not embarrassing, it’s just a fact. Why am I so nervous about this?

Lost in thought, you jumped when you heard a knock on your door.

Fuck! It’s him.

“Come in!” you said, cheerfully.

“Hey, doll!” he smiled, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“Hi, Bucky,” you blushed, “Um, I was hoping you would be okay with us just staying in tonight? Pizza should be here any minute.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” he said, hanging up his coat on a hook by the door and kicking off his boots.

“Okay, good,” you said, a little shakiness in your voice.

“Everything okay, doll? You sound nervous.”

Damn his super-soldier hearing!

“Um, yeah, everything is okay. I just have something I want to talk to you about. Nothing bad, just something I need to share.”

His response was interrupted by a knock at the door. He turned to answer it and pay the delivery kid. He closed the door and placed the pizza box on the counter.

“Are you keeping secrets from me?” he asked, a coy smile on his face.

“Well, yes and no. It’s not a secret, per se, just something we haven’t talked about.”

“Is it… um… about sex?” he asked quietly.

“Yeahhhh… yes. It is,” you replied, cheeks hot.

“Oh! Doll, don’t be embarrassed. You can tell me anything. Are we going too fast? Do you want to slow down?”

“No! Bucky! Just… stop for a second!” you laughed, “Just grab some pizza and let’s sit on the couch.”

You both settled on the couch, and Bucky looked at you with concern as you took a deep breath.

“Okay, Bucky. So, as you know, we’ve been getting a little more intimate lately, and I do enjoy it. I do want to take that next step with you, but…”

You stopped and took another deep breath. You closed your eyes and blurted out, “I’m a virgin!”

Bucky’s face softened as he leaned back, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and he just smiled.

“That’s it?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes. That’s it.”

“Okay,” he smiled.

“Okay? That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”

“Okay, doll, calm down. It’s just… that’s okay,” he said, setting his plate on the coffee table. “I’m glad you told me. I’m sure you assumed that I’ve got more experience, and I do, but it’s okay. You know I would never do anything you don’t want me to, and I definitely wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Is that what you’re so nervous about?”

You thought about it for a minute, a smile creeping across your lips.

“Yeah, probably. I’m nervous about a lot of things. Will it hurt, what if I don’t like it, what if you don’t like it, what if I start crying…”

“Y/n, doll, stop,” he smiled, placing a hand on your knee, “None of that matters, not in the grand scheme of things. Look, we’ve done other stuff, but if it hurts, I’ll stop. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop, and we’ll never do it again. Don’t even worry about me not liking it… it’s you. I’m going to like it no matter what. And, if you cry… well, then you cry, and I will make sure you’re okay before we do anything else.

Y/n… we never have to do anything that you don’t want to do, I promise you. Absolutely no pressure, okay?”

You smiled at him and shook your head “yes.”

“Good. Let’s eat this while it’s still hot and watch a movie, okay?”

“Okay. Do you want to watch the next Lord of the Rings movie?”

“Yes! That sounds awesome!”

****************************

You finished eating and curled up with Bucky while watching the extended version of Return of the King. You had your arm across his chest, your head on his shoulder, and he stroked your hair, kissing your forehead every so often.

When the movie finished, you looked up at him and saw the biggest smile on his face.

“Did you like it, Bucky?”

“It was amazing! I loved it” he said with a little yawn.

“So, do you want to stay over?”

“If you want me to, absolutely,” he said, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Race you to the bedroom!” you squealed, jumping up and running down the short hallway.

“You’re gonna get it!” he laughed, running after you. He tackled you gently onto the bed and things began the way they normally did.

Bucky began kissing your lips and neck. He slid his hands under your sweater, rubbing your back like he always did, as if to calm and soothe you. He moved to take your sweater off and began to kiss your neck again, moving toward your chest. You felt his hands slide your bra straps off your shoulders, his metal hand unclasping it from the back, his other hand pulling the fabric away from your body.

He licked his lips, and quickly his mouth was on your breast, tongue moving languidly around your nipple. You let out a moan, your fingers running through his hair. You felt him smile against your skin as he kissed your stomach, his hands on your hips. You felt his hands move around to your ass, fingertips pulling at the waistband, your leggings and panties rolling over your ass, your hips, your thighs.

Bucky tossed them aside and removed his own shirt, tossing it the way of your pants. You felt his fingers running up the sides of your calves, his palms rubbing over your knees as he gently pulled your legs apart.

He drew in a slow, deep breath, “Mmm… you always smell so sweet,” he said quietly. His face inched closer to your sex, kissing your inner thighs along the way.

You felt his warm, wet tongue slowly lick your dripping wet folds, and you let out a deep sigh. You arched your back as he placed your legs over his shoulders, his tongue delving deeper, swirling around your clit. He introduced his thick finger to the mix, sliding it slowly until it was all the way inside of you.

He looked up at you, making sure you were comfortable. When you let out a moan, you could feel him smiling against your sensitive skin, his tongue working its magic over your clit as his finger moved in and out of you.

“Another one?” he asked.

“Yes,” you whined, “More.”

You felt a slight stretch as he inserted the second finger. It felt so good that you let out a little giggle.

“Mmm, yeah, you like that, don’tcha, doll?”

“Yes, Bucky…. Feels so good. I… want more.”

“You sure? Tell me what you want, doll,” he said in a low, husky tone, fingers moving quickly in and out of you.

“Ahh, Bucky! Fuck! Feels so good,” you moaned, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers, grabbing at his metal arm. You came hard and fast, panting and moaning. Your eyes rolling back.

“Good girl. Tell me what you want, Y/n.”

“Take off your pants, Bucky,” you breathe, “I want you inside of me.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Yes, Bucky. Please.”

He kissed your lips and you felt him move off of the bed. You sat up slightly, leaning back on your forearms. He met your gaze as he began to unbuckle his belt. You felt your cheeks get hot, his dominant lust-filled eyes staring you down as he unzipped his jeans.

You averted your gaze, watching him as he pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips, his muscled thighs tightening to let them drop to the floor with a soft thud.

He stepped out of his pants as he leaned forward, peppering your body with kisses as he crawled up from the foot of the bed to lay gently on top of you.

“You’re sure?” he asked again.

“I’m sure, Bucky. I want you.”

His leg moved to part your thighs. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

“Let me know if you need to stop,” he said, reaching down, grabbing his hard length and lining it up with your warm, dripping entrance.

You felt yourself stretch as he entered you, feeling a slight pinching sensation. You winced, sucking in a breath as he slid further into you. With a worried look on his face, he started to open his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“I’m okay, Bucky.”

He kissed your lips and moved his hips so he was fully seated inside of you. You were keenly aware of how he filled you up. The sensation was odd, but not completely uncomfortable. There was a little pain, but it was tolerable. You felt him slide back and forth slowly, gently. You could tell he was holding back for your benefit. He wanted this experience to be good for you, slow and sweet.

He looked into your eyes as he continued his movements. You moaned, closing your eyes, feeling the pleasure beginning to build. You clenched your thighs at his waist, trying desperately to hold onto him as he began to move faster.

You could feel his hot, panting breath on your neck. He nibbled your ear as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Something came over you that you couldn’t describe, and you gently bit his shoulder, sucking and licking the skin as he moaned, moving faster.

Both of you were panting and moaning as you felt pressure build in your abdomen. Bucky shuddered as his hips stuttered, stopping with his cock buried deep inside of you. You moaned loudly with pleasure as your walls tightened around his thick member.

Clearly, you’d had orgasms from his tongue and fingers before, but not like this. Something about him being on top of you and inside of you made this orgasm so much better.

You felt your thighs begin to shake as you loosened their grip on his waist. You felt his entire weight on top of you, sweat glistening on his forehead, neck and back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kissing your neck.

“Yes, Bucky. I’m fine,” you smiled, looking into his eyes, “That was amazing. Was it okay for you?”

“Doll… it was perfect. I loved it. I love you.”

“Bucky… I… I love you too.”

Bucky rolled onto his back and pulled you on top of him so your head was on his chest. He gently massaged the back of your head and neck with his metal finger tips, moving his other hand up and down your spine.

Slowly, you both drifted off to sleep, the promise of a new day ahead of you, together and in love.

#bucky #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #bucky x Female Reader

[hazelfoureyes]

Do you think you could do a male version of the radioapple is the safe word? Or maybe just a gender neutral pronouned story? I adore it so much

of course! I am happy to adapt my stories whenever possible 🥺✨ sometimes I can’t but this one was an easy enough shift! didn’t tag the horny deer cult, this is the same story but with the hardware swapped out. Will tag in new pieces 🙏 warning; I almost exclusively watch femboy gay porn and it shows

The Safeword is RadioApple (Part 1)

(RadioApple x MaleReader)

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, male reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, asshole hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

MINORS DNI BRUH

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.” 

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King��� Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more. 

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue.  Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly. 

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker. 

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. 

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed him.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder. 

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my boy.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest,  hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you. 

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission. 

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises. 

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest. 

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. Your own cock twitched under your robe at the feeling.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants. 

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap. 

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.” 

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, hole soft and ready for him already, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men. 

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek. 

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible. 

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft.  He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Your cock hard and bouncing with every thrust. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? He can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself. 

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.” 

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your tight heat. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it. 

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms. 

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands. 

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time– 

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself. 

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again. 

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your dick, now pulsing under his hand. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your g-spot with every kiss of his hips. 

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your face tighten. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. His hands working your shaft, fingers ghosting over your balls and head with every stroke up and down. 

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed, your own release sticky and already cooling under you.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you. 

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed and stretched hole. 

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci. 

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide in and out of your with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it. 

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your ass, teasing your entrance with every pass. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn. 

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway. 

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon. 

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling dear. 

 What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were worried you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your bullied boy cunt got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths. 

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead. 

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt. 

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected. 

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would roll back, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so sticky wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper. 

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If he needs you to stop, he’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever he can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your muscles clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing his stomach to rut against your returning erection as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more. 

“Are you sure he isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel him? Or does he just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You unconsciously tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back. 

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before, stomach lurching into your chest with the impact.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were covered in oil and cum, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock opening parts of you never before reached. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning. 

You could feel him spreading open your body, soft walls helpless to resist his raging member. The feeling of your silky boy cunt sliding along his cock, your tight hole gripping him, was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Wails that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your body trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised ass.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you. 

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

#lucifer x male reader #alastor x male reader #radioapple x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader smut #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #alastor x lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer morningstar

[tkwrites]

Good For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @gabelandeskog

Title: Good For You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Summary: Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Warnings: smut (18+ only), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), cum play (sort of?), if I missed anything, let me know!

Word count: 4,900

Comments: I live! 

After two heavy snapshots, steeped in feelings, I’m back with some good old fashioned smut (with lots of plot, of course, because I am who I am). Thanks to the many Nonnies who requested this. I’d already started writing it when you sent this, but your asks challenged me to combine both your requests. I hope you enjoy, and it lives up to your expectations! If you did enjoy, please let me know by commenting, sending in an ask or reblogging! I love reading your comments, asks and suggestions! 

Anonymous asked: hey! Another request idea… I was rereading the fic about Sarah being overwhelmed before meeting Quinn’s parents and when they’re talking about the WAG jackets, sarah mentions that they aren’t official yet. Can we get fic of Quinn officially asking Sarah to be his gf? Seriously love readying your stuff! 

Anonymous asked: I love how much you actually show the communication between Quinn and Sarah, it makes it so much more real and overall I just love your writing ❤️❤️ I noticed how as their relationship progresses, they decide not to use condoms. Will we get to see this conversation in the future? I'd also love to see when they officially decide to be together with labels and all xxx

Good For You

A Quinn & Sarah snapshot

“Hey, Quinn?” Sarah called, walking up the stairs. 

“Yeah?” 

She found him on the suede couch, reading a book. 

Sitting at his feet, she smiled when he moved them into her lap. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Okay,” he put the marker in his book and rested it on his chest. 

Color flooded into her cheeks. 

“What?” he asked, unable to hold in a nervous laugh at her sudden blush.

“I just,” she paused to lick her lips, trying to screw up her courage. “I wanted to let you know I had an IUD put in last month.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s the most effective form of birth control. It’s pretty much as effective as celibacy.” 

He paused, unsure where this conversation was going. When she didn't elaborate, he asked, “So what did you want to talk about? Just that you have it?” 

“Well that and —” she knotted her fingers together, “since it’s super effective, and we’re only seeing each other and have been for a while, I wondered if maybe you wanted to…” she trailed off. 

Quinn got the feeling he was supposed to know what she was talking about, but he was clueless. “If I wanted to, what?” 

Chewing on her lip, she guessed it was time to just spit it out, “I wondered if we both get STI tested, and only if you want to, we could try not using condoms all the time.” 

He felt his eyes go wide. “What?” 

“I mean, only if you want to. If you feel more comfortable with condoms, that’s totally fine.” 

“Are you joking?” he asked, scrambling to sit up. The book slipped off him and fell to the wood floor with a sharp slap. “Of course I want to. Did you think I was going to turn down that offer?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He moved to kneel, crowding into her space. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. “Can we try now?” 

A laugh split her mouth into a pretty smile, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him from leaning closer. 

“We need to get STI tested first.”

“I’m clean,” he said.

“As far as I know, I am too, but I would feel better if we both got tested, knowing neither of us has slept with someone else in quite a while.”

He looked crestfallen. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she hastened to add, “I’ve just heard horror stories of girls whose boyfriends didn’t know they were carrying something. Most STIs affect women, you know, and men just pass them along.” 

His eyes went wide, “really?” 

“Just another joy of being a woman.” 

“Thats bullshit.”

“Yep,” she agreed, popping the last letter. “So It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I really need that proof for my own peace of mind before I’d feel comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, “of course. I’ll talk to Roman about it tomorrow.” 

“I’ll message my doctor,” she said with a shy smile, pulling out her phone. 

Logically, Quinn knew they needed to talk about this before anything could happen, but the thought that he might get to fuck her bare buzzed in the back of his mind so intensely, he wished she had waited until it was an actual possibility, even if that was impossible.

When he asked Roman about it between breakfast and video the next day, the trainer immediately went into crisis mode, “what kind of symptoms are you having?” 

“None. I'm just — I want to be safe.” 

He was going to tell him that the girl he was seeing — he was getting so sick of using that phrase — asked him to, but that seemed like it was putting all the blame on Sarah. While she did ask for it, he'd just never considered it something he should do. Now that he knew, he was more than happy to do it.

“You're sure? You can tell me, you know.” 

“I know. No symptoms. I’m just making sure.” 

Roman looked at him appraisingly. “Are you dating someone new?” 

Quinn was a bit surprised he hadn't heard about it. It seemed to him it was the only thing the guys chirped him about lately. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good for you,” he said approvingly. “Glad to know you're being safe.” 

Quinn felt a chagrinned smile spread over his face. 

“Well, I’m glad to know your girlfriend is safe at least,” Roman said with a laugh. 

How was it so easy for him to whip that word around? 

“Go to Doctor Jamison's after practice. I'll put in an order for you. They'll just need a blood sample.” 

The results took two days. By that time he was on the road. Thankfully, not for too long. Only one game.

He sent her a screenshot of the panel results. All negative, mercifully. He didn't expect to be positive, but he hadn't checked while he was with or after he broke up with June. 

She sent back a screenshot of her own test panel, also all negative. 

It was suddenly very real. The idea of coming home to Sarah was even more enticing than usual. 

He’d fucked girls bare before, he knew the sensations that came along with it, but he’d never fucked Sarah bare before. He’d tried, and she’d insisted on using condoms. He wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable, and he wasn’t going to give up sleeping with her. If that meant he had to wear a condom, he’d do it. 

Now that the possibility of making love to her without one was on the horizon, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. 

Looks like we'll be coming in about 2, he texted when they got to the arena. They'd fly home right after the game versus Calgary. Want to just stay at my place?

Wish I could, she wrote back, but I have class tomorrow at 8. I'll come to yours as soon as I'm done with work, though. 

“What's wrong, Q?” Brock asked, noticing his crestfallen expression. 

“Nothing,” he said, shoving his phone into his bag. “Sarah's just got class tomorrow morning so I won't see her until tomorrow night.” 

“Man, she's got you whipped.”

Quinn rolled his eyes, playing off the comment. If he protested, he knew they would just chirp him about it more, and there was no way he was going to explain his excitement to Brock. 

When the next evening finally rolled around, Quinn found himself pacing, a nervous excitement buzzing through his whole body. He’d never felt like this before. As if anticipation had been winding him up for 4 days straight. 

He’d tried his best to burn off as much energy as possible on a run that morning, but that felt like years ago now. Adrenaline was coursing through him by the gallon. 

He heard the elevator ding, and his stomach leapt. 

Before Sarah could scan in, the door flung open. Quinn was standing there, cheeks already flushed. 

She couldn’t help it, she gigged. 

“What?” 

“You’re just really cute,” she said.

Pulling her into the apartment, he resisted the urge to pull her upstairs straight away. Cool. He needed to be cool.

“Cute in a good way, right?” 

“Yes,” she assured, leaning up to kiss him. “In a very good way.” 

All of a sudden, the enormity of the situation crashed on him. He and Sarah had had sex 73 times, but this felt totally new. A frantic awkwardness took hold of his mind. How was he supposed to start this? Just like every other time? Every other time, it happened so naturally.  

“Hey,” she said, grasping his wrist, trying to stop the overthinking she could practically see scrolling across his face. 

He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Sorry. I’m so… I mean, I’ve never anticipated something like this for so long.” The words were falling out of his mouth before he really had a chance to think through them. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she said. “I’m not sure I have either.” 

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” he admitted. 

A soft smile took over her face. “Quinn, it’s me. We've already had great sex. This is just another step.” 

Nodding, he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Excitement reared in his stomach again, waging battle with his nerves. 

“I do think we should talk about it, though.” 

“Didn’t we already talk about it?”

“I mean, I think we should talk about what we want.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, what we're looking for.” She moved to sit on the living room couch, pulling him down with her. “I want to make sure we talk about it before we're in the heat of the moment so neither of us do something the other isn’t comfortable with.”

Quinn had never been with someone who communicated as much as Sarah. “It’s a product of the dead parents,” she’d told him when he asked her about it once, “life’s too short to not have the conversation.”

He sat next to her, “okay, so what do you want?”

“I want to feel you fuck me bare.” 

The frank way she said it made his whole body ring.

“And I want to feel you come inside me.” It felt dangerous and exciting to say it out loud, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. 

“Really?” Quinn asked, voice lilted with surprise. 

“Yeah. I've been dreaming about it,” she admitted. For the past few weeks, it seemed every time she would dream of him, the feeling of him filling her was so vivid that when she woke, her underwear would be soaked, almost as if she'd orgasmed in her sleep. “I'm guessing that's something you want, too?” 

He nodded. 

“Is there anything else you want?” 

He opened his mouth, then paused. 

She nodded, encouraging him. 

“I mean, there is something but it’s not a huge deal.” He was pretty certain she would at least consider it, but history had him trying to not get his hopes up.

“Tell me,” she urged, resting her hand on his knee. “I want to do what you want, too.” 

“I want to come on you,” he admitted, the words coming out all in a rush.

Eyes widening, Sarah couldn’t quite stifle the laugh that squeaked from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she hurriedly back pedaled, seeing the hurt on his face, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just — with the look on your face, I was bracing myself for something super kinky.”

“June hated it,” he said quietly. “She didn’t like cum at all.”

“So did you just wear condoms all the time?” 

“No. She didn’t like those either.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed together, an incredulous expression on her face. “You can’t have it both ways.” 

Something inside him unknotted. 

“I mean, did she insist you come in a tissue every time or something?” 

“Most of the time,” he amended, “sometimes I could come in her, but never on her.” 

June reminded Sarah so much of the mean girls she’d known throughout her life: content to demand things of others, knowing their social currency was enough to purchase obedience to all of those ridiculous rules. Part of her wondered if June even disliked cum, or if she was just trying to keep Quinn under her thumb. 

“Well I don’t have a problem with either. I mean, I don’t really love a facial, but other places are fine.” She paused for a moment, thinking about how often Quinn asked her questions, willing to learn, so he could please her better, “and, I mean, if you’re really invested in coming on my face, we can do it. I just don’t want it all the time.”  

He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he swallowed thickly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. A relationship is a two way street. You deserve to get the things you want, too. ” 

The relieved smile he gave her in response made her want to slap June across the face. Quinn was so, so good — attentive and genuine and so willing to learn and please. She wanted to do the same for him. Besides, it wasn’t like Sarah had some kink for cum, at least she didn’t think she did, but feeling a partners pleasure in such a tangible way, always gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. 

“Is there anything else you want?” he asked. 

“No. You?” 

He shook his head.

“Alright,” she said, “I think we should go upstairs.” 

Quinn stopped trying to play it cool. He was too excited to play it cool. He grabbed her hand and raced up the stairs, glad that she laughed as she ran along with him. 

She threw open the door to his room. Sarah loved this room. It was in the corner of the building, and huge windows looked over the beautiful Vancouver skyline. The sun was setting, turning the harbor and city windows yellow and pink, casting their colors on the walls and spinning everything else in the room into gold. 

Before she could get too caught in the view, he was spinning her around, catching her mouth in a kiss that sucked the breath right out of her. 

Clothing was discarded, and they tumbled into his bed. 

They surged together and Sarah moaned. It was already so much better. 

Somehow, there was less pressure. He didn't have to think about pulling away to make sure they were safe. He could stay focused on her without any other worries. Why had he been so nervous? This felt, like she said, like the natural next step. 

When he pulled back to line himself up, Sarah pressed her hand to his pelvis stopping the movement. 

“What?” he asked, worried he'd hurt her. 

“We need lube,” she said. “Or more foreplay. The condoms you have have lube on them, so they slide easier. Without that I'm worried…” she trailed off. 

He hadn't even thought about it. “Which do you want?”

“I mean, I'm always game for more foreplay.”

Grinning, he leaned down to kiss her, rolling his hips against hers again. As their tongues tangled, she groaned into his mouth. 

“Tell me when you're ready,” he whispered in her ear before tracing his lips over her jaw and down her neck. He licked and kissed, while one of his hands fondled her breasts, working her up to those hitched little breaths and small moans he loved so much.

“Quinn,” she breathed, a few moments later, as her temperature spiked. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his beard rasped against her skin. She’d never liked facial hair before him, but somehow, with Quinn, it was more arousing than painful. Probably because of what else he was doing. God, he was good with his mouth. 

Unbidden, but not unwelcome or unfamiliar, images crashed into her mind — Quinns head buried between her thighs, his magic tongue working her to a climax she knew would be mind melting. The fantasies made her desperate for him.

“I need you,” she gasped, feeling herself grow slick against the muscular ridge of his thigh he had wedged between her legs.

“I’m right here.”

“I need you inside me.”

Her admission made Quinn feel drunk with desire. Out of his mind with it. He pulled back and her hand covered his to help him line up.

Pressing into her was better than he’d imagined. 

She was so hot and wet and, “shit, you’re so tight,” he ground out, the words scraping over a moan. 

Now that the barrier was gone, the time spent waiting to remove it was well worth it. Her smooth walls hugged him perfectly. 

Just to feel the contrast, he withdrew to the tip, pulling a sharp breath through his teeth at the rush of cool air before he drove back into her warmth. His jaw dropped and he made some unintelligible sound.

Slick and slippery, his thrusts moved with her seamlessly as she rose to meet him again and again and again.

“So good,” she breathed, reveling in the feel of him - every vein and ridge that had been smoothed by the latex covering before felt so prominent now and, “Quinn, you feel so good.” 

The praise went straight to his head.

“You feel so —” he broke off with a growl. “Shit, you feel so amazing, Sarah. I — I —” He babbled, nearly blurting that he loved her. He bit that back. This wasn’t the time for that. He wanted that to be special, not something spluttered in a lust-drunk moment. “I don't know how long I can last,” he admitted instead. 

God, he was something else. Flushed and flustered, eyes half hooded, body tight with exertion and control, he looked delicious. The fact that he wanted her this much made her chest feel full to bursting.

A moan escaped her mouth as pleasure washed over her face. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Just like that, he was done for. Cooked.

“I can't… I can't,” he stammered. At least he lasted longer than the embarrassing two strokes from their first time.

“Then don't,” she panted, rocking her hips into his. Her own climax building as the thought of him finally coming inside her brought her sensitivity to a peak. 

Groaning her name, he let his body take over, rhythm turning sloppy. 

As she watched, his eyes fluttered closed and with a final, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt and let go. 

Feeling the very tangible result of his pleasure coat her walls made Sarah’s breath hitch. It only took a few more rocks of her hips before her body bowed, chest pressing flush to his as she pulsed around him, pleasure poured into her body. 

His mouth was open against her neck as he let out a sort of pained grunt.

Coming down, she melted into the soft mattress. 

His body followed hers, his weight pressing into her. He knew it was probably too heavy, but he couldn’t possibly hold himself up right now.

Quinns gasping breaths were crashing into her neck. Even though it didn’t make it any easier to catch her breath, she loved the solid weight of him on top of her.

Strength slowly returned to him and they both winced a little as he eased out. 

Flopping onto his back next to her, he groped for her hand. “Oh my god,” he breathed, once he had control of his voice. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling some breaths deep into her lungs.

After a few more moments of basking in the afterglow, she moved to get up. He tugged her back, “where are you going?” 

“I need to pee. I'll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn't shy away from watching her pad to the bathroom and then back to the bed. 

Halfway through their second round, he was determined to feel Sarah come undone around him when he wasn’t so sensitive from his own orgasm. Working his fingers to her clit, he traced gentle patterns over the swollen nub. 

A pleasured sigh left her lips. “Oh,” Sarah breathed, “that feels so good, Quinn.”

She had to take a moment to make her mind concentrate on one thing at a time. Anticipation coiled tighter in her belly as she focused on his gentle, deliberate touch, the heat of his body above and inside her, and then, the feel of his cock, which had been so dulled before, it almost felt completely new.

He dipped lower, gathering more of her arousal on his fingers to slip and slide over her bundle of nerves. 

He didn’t try to hide or hold back from how good it felt when she fluttered around him. Her name panted from his mouth. Only when he felt himself sliding too close to the edge, did he bite his lip to distract himself. 

Seeing Quinn hold on for her, trying to draw out her orgasm before his own, made tenderness swell within her. It mixed with the pleasure in her veins, bringing her closer to the peak. How the hell did June not see him this way? 

She gasped his name before admitting, “I’m almost there.” 

“What do you need?” he asked, wrenching his eyes open to look into her face. 

“Keep going, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

He shook his head. Never. He would never stop trying to please her like this and any other way he could. 

The steady rhythm he restrained himself into did its job, and she tipped over the edge. 

The coil in her belly finally shattering, her body seized up as pleasure fractured through her like lightning. His name flew from her mouth in a hoarse cry. 

Jaw falling open, he grunted his pleasure as her core sucked him deeper with every rhythmic pulse. God, she felt even more incredible. Sarah was already the best he’d ever had, and now, the sex had just gotten better. How was that possible? 

Gripping the sheets, he held on for her, moaning and muttering about how good she felt coming around him.

Sarah was mesmerized by him. His eyes were shut now, the skin around them taut, but his jaw was lax, nearly hanging open. His arms flexed, mountains and valleys of muscle on either side of her, straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

Electricity was still buzzing faintly through her veins, even as her high ebbed away. She couldn’t wait any longer to fulfill his fantasy.

“Come on me, Quinn.” 

Breath lodged in his throat and his eyes flew open, frantically searching her face. “You're sure?”

“Yes. I want you to. Come on me,” she repeated, running her fingers up her chest as an example. 

In a rush of want, he planked above her, quickly tugging on his cock, slick with her arousal, until he exploded, painting a sticky white line up her chest.

She seemed to preen under the assault, arching her back and moaning as if it was something she’d been waiting her whole life for. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.  

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as his limbs turned to jelly. 

He managed to lower himself on top of her without dropping, feeling his cum slick between their skin. 

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he panted against her mouth. 

In a few minutes time, Sarah knew she'd be squirming for a shower, but for now, she felt extremely gratified with fulfilling this fantasy for him. She smiled, replaying the look of shocked elation on his face when she requested it.

Tracing her fingers up the bumps of his spine, she took in a deep breath and let it sigh out of her lungs, reveling in the weight of his body on hers. 

Finally catching his breath, he lifted his head, arching an eyebrow. “Where did all of this come from?”

“All what?” 

He traced a finger through the valley of her breasts, gathering some of his cum. “This,” he said, “your little exhibitionist streak when I came on you.”

“Oh,” she somehow blushed despite her flushed skin. “I wanted to be good for you. You’re so good to me all the time, I want you to feel that, too.” 

That simple statement, her admittance that she did it for him, made his head spin. How could he have ever thought what he had with June was love? He saw now how a love that met you half way blew her idea of love, which he knew now was more about control, out of the water. 

A few minutes later, Sarah’s sweaty, post-sex skin began to itch. “Shower?” she asked. 

“Snacks,” Quinn countered, his head still resting on the front of her shoulder. 

A laugh shook her chest, “shower then snacks.”

He supposed it could work.

A short while later, they were in the kitchen, and Quinn was having an argument with himself.

They needed to have a conversation, but it was terrible timing. He didn’t want her to think he was only bringing it up because of what happened that night. At the same time, he'd been thinking about it since before his parents' visit, when she'd brought up the WAG jackets. Now that his mom and dad had met her and approved, the only thing holding him back was his brother's approval. He wasn't sure he wanted to wait that long.

He was about to leave again, and the family skate was coming up after he got back. He wanted her to come, but he was so tired of introducing her as the girl he was seeing. Sarah was more than that, now. It didn’t fit anymore, and it was too damn long to keep saying. 

If they didn’t talk about it now, he worried there wouldn’t be enough time.

He glanced at her. She was wearing a shirt with a funny little cartoon of a fork and a spoon that said, ‘Spooning leads to forking’ along with a pair of matching shorts. Her thighs were bare and lovely in the dim light as she sat on the counter, eating a piece of cheese she’d stolen from the sandwich he was building for them to split. 

He put the top piece of bread on and decided he should just blurt it out. He didn’t think there would be a better way. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to bring up.

“What do you think about being my girlfriend?” he said, looking up.

Her hand paused on the way to her mouth, the cheese missing an almost cartoon-like bite  — a little scalloped half moon cut into one corner.

“Am —” Sarah paused, wondering if this was some kind of a trick question. “Am I not?” 

“No,” he said before his brain caught up with him. “No, you are, but I mean, like, formally?” 

Her head tilted to one side, “Of course. I’ve been thinking of you as my boyfriend for a few weeks now. Pretty much since you met Trav and the kids.”

A sigh breathed through him. 

“Did you think I was gonna say no?” 

“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t want you to think I was only bringing it up because of the unprotected sex thing.” 

“That is pretty terrible timing on your part,” she conceded, laughing. “It’s a good thing I…” she trailed off, stopping herself from continuing out loud. Why couldn’t she just come out and say it? So what if she was in her ridiculous pajamas in his kitchen? She’d brought them with her expressly because she thought they would make him laugh, and she’d been right. The delighted surprise that had escaped his mouth when he’d seen them was something she knew she’d treasure for a long time.

“A good thing you?” he repeated, hope ballooning in his chest. 

“It’s a good think I know you’re not just in it for the sex,” she said, lamely.

Quinn’s expression went from hopeful to distraught right before her eyes. “How could you think that?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly earnest.

“Quinn, I —” 

He cut her off, “I like so many things about you, Sarah. You’re smart and funny and you’re kind to everyone you meet, and you’re so dedicated to your work.” He was rambling now, but if she thought he was in this just for the sex? He would die of shame. 

“I like that you’ve never treated me like anything else but Quinn, and you’re always willing to meet me half way,” he said, his voice taking on an almost frantic quality as he tried to convey what she meant to him. “And I —” 

“Quinn.” 

The way she said his name made him stop short. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand coming up to gently cup his jaw. “I was teasing. I know you’re not just in it for the sex. Someone who only wanted sex wouldn’t have waited four weeks to have it.” 

She had a valid point. 

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Quinn. Just as long as you can be my boyfriend.” 

“Deal,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, feeling as if someone had struck a match, setting his heart ablaze. 

Settling into bed, Quinn remembered he hadn’t told her yet. 

“Hey, my family’s coming in for the finals. They’ll be here on the 20th.” 

“Oh,” she said, obvious disappointment on her face.

“Is that not…okay?” 

Feeling her cheeks blaze, Sarah realized she hadn’t shared that expectation with him yet. “It’s just…my last final is that day and I’ve kind of been looking forward to you fucking me silly as a reward for finishing.”

His eyes went huge, “oh.”

“It's one of the ideas that's kept me going, honestly.”

“I could still do that,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“With your family in the house? I don't think so.”

“At yours then.”

“With my roommates there?”

He bit his lip. “We could get a hotel?”

“Because that's not weird when you have people, let alone family, staying at your house.”

“I’ll tell them to come a day later,” he offered. 

“Would they buy that without an explanation?”

“Would I have to give them one?”  

“I don't know. Would you? My family would want to know. You’ll have to make something up.”

“You don’t want me to tell them they can’t come on the 20th because my girlfriend finally finished her classes and wants to be fucked all night?” he teased. 

Giggling, she smacked his shoulder lightly, “I think I might die if your mom knew that about me,” she admitted, part of her mind still caught on the open way he used the girlfriend title. 

He laughed.“I’ll just tell them we have a late team meeting, or something so it would be better for them to come in on 21st. It’ll be fine.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

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[ddejavvu]

pairing: darth vader x reader

summary: vader's prosthetic limbs are strong

cw: power imbalance, smut, toxic relationship (it's literally darth vader), manhandling, mentions of bruising, everything is consensual but it probably shouldn't be, don't like don't read.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Vader's prosthetic limbs are strong. They're, by design, inhuman, and their fixture uses them to their fullest potential. You have permanent sore spots on your biceps from being hauled around by the dark lord, he puts you wherever he pleases.

"Stay here." He orders, his hand clamped tightly around your arm as he muscles you into one of the in-progress death star's many confinement cells, cold and gray, "It is not safe to roam while my master is here."

And when he retrieves you upon Palpatine's departure, he wakes you with that same rough hand on your arm, hauling you up off of the sleeping shelf and hustling you down the hall, carrying all of your weight with that one singular hand while your tired limbs frenzy to catch up.

there have been several times where you thought he was going to crush your jaw. simply shatter the bone, disfigure your face as he pinches it between unforgiving metal digits.

"Where have you been?" He asks, holding your chin in his prosthetic hand, "You were meant to be inside your quarters by 1800 hours."

When you don't answer right away his fingers tighten around your face and you squirm, wondering if you'll have a bruise there tomorrow; a stinging pool of blood just beneath the skin that your lover managed to coax out.

He crushes your face the way he uses the Force to crush others' throats; you get the honor of physical contact.

He tightens and tightens and tightens until you think your teeth might crumble where they're smashed together, then you let out a muffled whimper to let him know you're ready to speak. Only then are you permitted to open your mouth, and you admit, "I went down to the lower levels."

Much like his once-home planet of Coruscant, the lower levels on the Death Star are nowhere Vader wants you.

"I have told you to stay away from there," He chides, sealing your mouth with his bruising grip once more, nearly chopping your tongue apart where it gets momentarily caught between your teeth, "There are things down there beyond your comprehension; Sith artefacts that could melt your feeble mind from the inside out - far less forgiving than I am. The next time you venture down to the lower levels will be your last, no matter if the artefacts kill you, or I do."

though his torso is still flesh and blood, his arms are all prosthetic. it means that while his hips are stationary beneath yours, his inhumanly strong arms are lifting you effortlessly off of his thighs and slamming you back down over his cock. He takes you on his throne, spread out like the lord he is; but only your body moves. He is stationed firmly in his seat, and you are the one that must writhe above him in hopes of your own pleasure. But you tire easily, and he's such a generous man. When the time comes for him to intervene he cements his metal hands on your sides, lifting and lowering in a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars for the force he uses.

He will deposit you in your quarters after you're fucked out and too tired to be useful anymore. You need sleep, so he hoists your body into his arms and you happily go limp in his grasp. He carts you down the sterile, desolate halls of his battle station and uses the Force to open the door to your sleeping chambers, bending at the waist to lay you down on the bed. Dark Lords do not tuck their subjects into bed, but he stands and looms over you until you tug the blanket over yourself.

"I will return at 1800 hours." He reports, cape billowing around his ankles as he strides towards the door, "I would like you to stay here until then. Do not disobey me."

#darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader smut #darth vader fanfiction #darth vader oneshot #darth vader x you #darth vader blurb #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker imagine

[wildbluesorbit]

London || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, and the slight uneven curl of his upper lip. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

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[m0llygunn]

Apologies and Promises (eddie munson x fem!reader)

Part 3 to Same Old Song and Dance 01 / 02 Summary: Hurt feelings hidden under the shallow guise of anger and indifference, in an inebriated state there’s no choice but to face the layers of truth.

Tropes: enemies to lovers (kind of), mean stubborn idiots in love, honestly idk at this point. Warnings: 18+! mature language, ‘bullying’, forcible wrist holding, pet names (princess, sweetheart, angel, baby), mentions of oral (m receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, vomit mention. Author’s note: I am resisting the urge to over explain why theres no smut and this chapter was needed to progress feelings (i know smut is a selling point IM SORRY... but soon i swear it'll be back). wc: 7.2k+

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73 @ropickle @suethh @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @emma77645 @yujyujj

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You didn’t wait around for him to show but you also didn’t expect to have to wait around for him to show.

You’re not disappointed. Why should you be? You didn’t want him to pick you up anyways. 

If anything, you’re pissed. 

He relentlessly badgered you last night about it. Wouldn’t leave until you agreed to let him drive you to school. He was so insistent, that he nearly slept on your floor using that stupid notebook as a pillow.

You’re not disappointed. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Want me to knock him out?” Steve offers and you can’t help but laugh. 

Steve was dropping off his coworker-turned-best friend, Robin, when you were walking into school. He’s a close family friend— and Nancy’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, so you happily stopped for a chat. 

“Steve. I hate to break it to you but Munson’s a veteran school fighter. He might not win every fight but he’s definitely been in more fights than you.” You say, patting Steve on the cheek as he comically deflates before you.

“Hey! I won the last fight I was in and I’ve been working on my biceps, can’t you tell?” He says, flexing his arms. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, watching Steve flex his unnoticeably larger arms until he rounds up his antics and leans back against his car. “Your dad at that work conference thing too?” You ask, curiously wondering if it really is a work trip your dad’s on right now. 

“Absolutely. Any chance to get away, right?” Steve says with a somber laugh. 

“I know the feeling...any chance.” You reply, nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “Might throw a party, might not.” He says indifferently. You perk up at the idea of a party. It’s always the same crowds that show, you know the list of attendees like the back of your hand.

“You should, I can get Nance to come along, maybe you can rekindle.” You say, hitting Steve’s arm. This could be to his benefit too, Nancy has been bringing him up again recently and that’s always the catalyst to the ‘on again’ portion of their relationship.

“You got some kind of insight?” Steve replies, eyes studying you.

You purse your lips, choosing your words wisely. “Can't say. Bad enough I already told you my business, can’t tell you her business too, Stevie.” 

Steve smiles, shaking his head, accepting your answer because he knows that’s as close as he’ll get to you spilling Nancy's secrets. 

He knows all about your rivalry with Munson, and as much as he doesn’t like the guy, he was actually the first one who suggested sleeping with him quite some time ago. It was a joke of course… yet here you are. You figured he deserved to know that he was some sort of prophet, so you filled him in. Not in as much detail as you did with Nancy, but you told him the gist of it. 

Your conversation with Steve simmers to a lull, both of you watching over the crowd of students funnelling from the parking lot into the school. You’re not explicitly looking for it, but you can’t help but notice the lack of a certain obnoxiously loud van. 

“You’re good, right?” Steve asks, shoulder bumping your own.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“You sure?” He asks again, turning towards you enough to gauge your reaction. You shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe a little embarrassed.” You say, shifting back and forth on your feet, eyes still flickering over the bustling parking lot. 

“Don’t be. Fuck him.” He says making you snort a laugh.

“Fuck him?” You question, smirk playing on your lips.

“No! I mean, unless you want to. But he did stand you up so…” Steve says trailing off. You try to laugh it off but it sounds more like a scoff. 

“Yup. Eddie Munson stood me up.” You say, words rolling off your tongue in a confusing cross between regret and hurt even when you meant for it to be a joke. A laughable comment between two friends who know how you and Eddie interact, who know he’s nothing more than a nuisance to you, nothing more than an incessant house fly that just won’t quit circling you. 

You never thought you’d be saying that in this lifetime. You never thought he’d have the opportunity to stand you up. 

You tell yourself you’re not disappointed, but the words sure do taste like it. 

You shrug your shoulders, shaking off your thoughts. “I should go, bell’s about to ring.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was during your second period math quiz. A timid, curly headed freshman knocked on the door interrupting the silence of the room. 

Mrs. Rotman stood from her desk, crossing the room, engaging in a whispered conversation with the boy. She turned to look around the room, eyes flitting over the students before landing on you. She turned back to the boy, whispered something to him and sent him on his way. 

You tried to pretend you were busy doing your quiz but it was hard with her eyes focused on you as she walked in your direction.

“Honey, your fathers in the office for you. Something about a family emergency. Don’t worry about the quiz, sweetie.” She whispered, leaning down to your level with sullen eyes that made your heart rate pick up.

“Family emergency?” You questioned anxiously. 

“Yes dear, go on and head down to the office.” She said, patting your back. 

Leaving behind your quiz that you barely had a chance to start on, you quietly let yourself out of the class. 

Speed walking down the hall, opening the door to the stairwell with enough force for the sound to echo against the cement walls and linoleum floors, you hurry to descend the stairs. With your mind busy, rifling through what potential family emergency would bring your father back to town, you didn’t even notice him standing by the stairwell exit until you stepped down onto the landing. 

There’s a moment before he looks at you. A moment where your heart beats faster. A moment where you’re flooded with scary feelings. A moment were you remember last night. And a moment were you remember this morning.

“Oh for god's sake.” You groan, leaving that moment behind, churning everything into a genuine annoyance because you fell for such a stupid trick. 

“Princess, funny seeing you here. Daddy’s been waiting.” Eddie says, smirk plastered on his face, waiting with his back against the wall, trying to exude some sort of coolness that he doesn’t possess. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spit, burning hot from the inside out. Eddie deflates in front of you, smirk dropping as he steps away from the wall towards you.

“No?” He says, almost like he’s asking you. 

“Why the fuck would you think this was okay?” You sneer, voice raising in volume. He shrinks further.

“Just wanted to see you.” He shrugs, eyes falling to the ground.

If he 'wanted to see you', he wouldn’t have stood you up. 

“You wanted to see me?” You scoff bewilderedly.

“Yeah, and apologize for this morning.” He says, eyes flickering up to you.

You spin on your heels, ready to explain the situation to Mrs. Rotman and go back to finishing your quiz. You don't want to hear an apology for that.

“Shit— Princess, come back!” He calls after you. You hear feet clambering, catching up to you just as you clear the first set of stairs. His grasp captures your wrist and you get the eeriest sense of deja vu.

“Princess, c’mon, let me apologize.” He says, voice pleading as you try to tug yourself free.

“No. You can apologize to Mrs. Rotman’s math class for interrupting everyone during the quiz.” You huff, using all your weight to try and free yourself. 

“No, let me apologize to you.” He insists. You feel your heart rate pick up and in an instant you spin, startling Eddie with your fast movement. 

“Do you think this is funny, Eddie?” You spit, brows furrowed, face flushing hot in anger.

With his mouth pulled in a flat line, he shrugs. 

You know he's hardly phased by your spitfire and you step closer to up the ante. 

“No, seriously? Are you having fun, Eddie? Answer the question.” You say, burning your gaze into his. 

He doesn't indulge you in an answer, he just looks at you with round eyes. He doesn't cower, he doesn’t spit heated words back, he just remains looking at you with his stupidly big eyes. You're not even sure if his disposition is meant to soothe you, but it does and you hate it. It irons out nearly every wrinkle of anger and you hate it. 

“I know none of this matters to you, Eddie, but it matters to me.” You say, mustering up every blazing emotion you have left in you but it comes out too gentle to be anger.

“What matters to you?” He asks quietly, his face softening, eyes getting impossibly rounder. His grip on your wrist loosens as he steps closer to you. 

You press your lips closed, breathing deeply to compose yourself. Your sentiment is ambiguous, you recognize that. Whether is was purposeful or not is a mystery to even you. You wouldn't admit this matters, whatever this is between you and Eddie, never. You couldn't.

Even if you didn't leave space for ambiguity, you know what he's asking right now. Does he matter to you, does this matter to you?

“School, idiot.” You say quietly. You cover ambiguity by shutting him down and embellishing it with an insult. It's a lie, you both know it. It’s an orchestrated move at this point; he steps right, you step left.

He moves in closer to you, toe to toe, his chest less than arm's length away. His grip on your wrist slides down, stopping just before your palm, inches away from being a hand hold.

“You're only upset because I took you away from your quiz?” He asks quietly, amusement hinting in his tone. His eyes flicker to your lips.

“Yes.” You reply flatly. You lick your lips instinctively and you mentally scold yourself.

“No, you're not.” He laughs softly, eyes only watching your lips now. “You're really that desperate to finish a math quiz?” He asks, amusement becoming forthright.

He does think this is funny and it makes your blood boil. 

“Stop doing that.” You sneer but it comes out weak.

“Stop doing what?” He asks, eyes still unmeeting of yours.

His overconfidence and arrogance buzzes around in your head, spurring on your anger. You feel cornered by him calling your bluff and nothing good has ever come from that, especially when your heart is beating so fast you can't hear your own thoughts.

“Assuming you know me, Eddie. You don’t.” You snap, hammering your words into him like nails in a coffin, punctuating your words with a tug of your wrist but his grasp hardens, not letting you go.

He finally looks up at you, eyes meeting your gaze and you can tell your words stung by the mirrored reflection of hurt. He looks taken aback. Whatever he thought was about to happen, you pulled it out from under him like a mean trick and hurt switches to anger.

“So you’re really only upset because you’re here?” He scoffs, brows pinching.

“I just fucking said that.” You spit back.

“And you’re not at all upset because I didn’t pick you up this morning?” And that's all he has to say to send you into a flighty panic. You won't look truth in the eye, you can't.

“Eddie. Let go.” You seethe, tugging your wrist harshly. You bring your other hand to his in an attempt to pry his fingers off. His grip isn’t enough to hurt you, it’s simply unrelenting, a desperate attempt to finish this conversation.

"Princess—" He starts but you interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to give him another opportunity to throw your own feelings in your face.

"Let go." You say, your volume raising out of desperation.

“Fine. Just fucking relax for a minute, Jesus Christ.” He groans, when you start swatting at his forearm. His own annoyance rises and it pisses you off because what does he have to be annoyed about? He’s not the one that got stood up. 

“I am relaxed!” You shriek, squeezing your eyes shut and stamping your foot. 

Eyes still closed, you listen to your own voice echoing off the walls, forcing you to hear yourself. It sounds like a reverb of hurt between the two of you. Despite the meaningless message your words attempt to convey, it sounds like a slip of honesty, a slip of your true feelings and how he’s affected them. It sounds tears short of being an angered cry.

A beat passes before the echoes subside, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Princess.” Eddie whispers softly. His voice isn’t loud like yours, it doesn’t vibrate off the walls but it still echoes in your consciousness, occupying a space hugged tightly next to your heartbeat. 

You feel fingertips ghost over your cheeks, delicate in nature despite residing in the antagonistic warland that you and Eddie have fostered together. Your heart catches in your throat and you hate it. 

Your face pinches in its default anger. You ready yourself to scold him, but when you open your eyes and all you see is soft, warm brown staring back at you, it doesn’t come. You hate it. 

He closes his grasps on your face, both hands holding you gently by the jaw. Both hands.

Your wrist set free, you pull away, storming back down the stairs. He steps forward, you run away— another orchestrated move.

Hearing yourself is too much, you need air. You need somewhere where your own thoughts can't reverb like your words against cement and linoleum. You need something to get you thinking straight.

Scuffing sneakers echo behind you as you clear the staircase, cross the foyer, and push open the door to the parking lot. You expect a hand around your wrist again but it doesn’t come. 

You slow to a walk and so does he, his steps crunching on the pebble covered pavement as he trails behind you quietly.

You round the corner of the building before leaning against the wall, expectant hand held out towards Eddie.

He tentatively raises his arm, fingers grazing yours, palm just barely ghosting your own, before you smack him away.

“No you idiot, cigarette.” You say, exhaling deeply. 

He mumbles an embarrassed apology before digging through his pocket.

“Here.” He says quietly, passing over his carton of camels.

You pull one out, placing it between your lips, Eddie’s eyes watching your every move. Flickering the lighter that was tucked into the empty space of the box, you light it up, smoke pluming from the corners of your lips as you take your first drag. Eddie swallows harshly, lost in thought.

“Well?” You snap, his eyes fleeting back to yours. 

“R-right. I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning, princess. I’m really really sorry.” He says softly, strumming the chords of your heart with his words. You hate it.

“Why should you be sorry about that, I didn’t want you to anyways.” You say, trying to sound indifferent. You don’t though. You hear your own voice just like you did in the stairwell and you sound like a little kid who hasn’t quite mastered the art of fibbing. It’s a jejune lie, not even a good one.

“I said I would though, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He says, round eyes set on you.

The sun glimmers against his hair making the wavy brown strands look golden, a perfect match to the gold in the eyes staring at you right now.

He’s genuinely sorry, you believe him, and you hate it.

Continuing on your juvenile streak, you pocket his lighter before handing back his carton. You know he sees you do it but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Whatever, Eddie.” You mumble, taking a drag from your cigarette. 

You let your head fall against the brick behind you, eyes scanning thoughtlessly over the surrounding thick tree line. Eddie takes a step, his shoulder hitting the wall as he leans against it, still facing you. 

“Don't you wanna know where I was?” He asks carefully, a testing tease lingering around his words.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest, your burning cigarette skillfully held out to not get ash on yourself. Eddie exhales a light laugh before leaning into you. 

“Well, princess.” He starts, leaning in even closer. “I accidentally slept in because I was too busy staying up all night thinking about this girl who gave me the best head of my life.”

“Gross.” You scoff, hiding your smile by taking another drag.

“Fuck yeah. It was certified sloppy toppy. I think I was reborn yesterday, died and got as close to heaven as I ever will.” He says, body twisting so his head knocks against the brick wall dramatically. 

“Now you're just sucking up.” You grimace, taking another drag.

He laughs softly before the both of you fall into a quiet lull. You partially expected him to make some kind of joke out of ‘sucking up’ but he doesn’t. Only the sound of trees blowing in the wind can be heard, along with scattered chirps of birds in the distance.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, breaking the silence. You let your eyes flicker to him before focusing back on your barely burnt cigarette. You drop it, stomping it out under your shoe. It was a waste of a cigarette, but Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I wasn’t mad at you.” You reply, facing towards the tree line again. 

“Okay, princess.” He sings, clearly not believing you. “But everything aside… we’re good?” He asks, watching you carefully.

“Eddie.” You exhale. That’s a big thing for him to ask of you and he doesn’t even realize it. How can you say that everything between the two of you is good when… What even is there between the two of you? Are you even friends? It's another truth you're not willing to face.

“Princess, tell me we’re okay or else you’ll keep me up another night.” He says, slouching his shoulders. 

“You’re being dramatic.” You laugh. He steps closer to you, hand raising and grasping a piece of your hair. You watch in your periphery as he swirls it between his fingers.

“I’ll never get another wink of sleep, I’m begging you. Tell me we’re okay or tell me how to fix it.” He says, tiptoeing even closer to you.

“Eddie.” You laugh again, shaking your head. The hair between his fingers falls but he’s quick to reach for the strands that fell into your face, skillfully tucking it behind your ear.

“All I’m asking for is your forgiveness. What d’you say, angel?” He whispers. You turn your head, looking at him skeptically with raised brows. 

“Angel? I think that’s hardly a fitting name.” You scoff.

“Trust me, it’s fitting. After last night.” He says, hand retreating from you to grab his heart dramatically, throwing his body back against the brick wall in a swoon. 

“Suck up.” You say trying to hide your amusement. You watch him as he continues his antics, biting your lip to hide your smile. 

He turns to you, looking up through his lashes, feigning a faux innocence.

“So what d’ya say, princess?" He questions, quirking a brow at you. "Want me to kiss it better?” He asks with a deep grin, eyes amusedly awaiting your response. 

You pause, not necessarily thinking about his offer but more so distracted by the way the sun reflects off of his eyes making them glow golden again.

He takes your pause as a yes, stepping into you, hands grabbing behind your ears, cradling your neck. He presses sloppy kisses all over your cheeks and up to your forehead, all while you protest through giggles. It’s sickeningly sweet. Truly sickening. You hate it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why’d you ask my friends where I was yesterday, princess? Are you, like, obsessed with me?” Eddie mocks into your ear startling you.

“Oh no.” You groan to yourself, flashing Nancy a preemptive apologetic look. 

“Princess, d’ya happen to have a lighter? Mine seems to have gone missing.” He says, moving on from his original remark, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. 

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke, it’s a dirty habit.” You say flatly, keeping your focus on your lunch and Nancy sitting across from you.

“Oh, that’s crazy I could have sworn I saw you hanging out in the back of the school with some guy smoking earlier? I must have been mistaken.” He says, arm wrapping around your shoulder as he throws one leg over the cafeteria bench, straddling it. 

“We weren’t ‘hanging out’.” You scoff.

“Right, right. I was groveling, my bad, princess.” He laughs. 

You look up at Nancy and she’s shaking her head, lips pursed tightly, holding back her ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. Eddie doesn't typically bother you at lunch, so to Nancy, this very much looks like him 'getting worse'.

“Eddie, don't you have somewhere else to sit?” You say, shrugging his arm off your shoulder. 

“What? Can’t come have lunch with my girl?” He teases, scooting closer to you, his knee pushing against your thigh, your shoulder practically resting against his chest. 

“I just barely forgot about the stunt you pulled earlier, you’re pushing your luck, Munson.” You warn.

“Don’t call me that.” He says flatly.

“Munson? That’s your name, isn’t it?” You laugh.

“Nope, not to you it isn’t.” He replies flatly, grabbing a grape off your lunch tray before you can stop him. 

“Is there a reason you’re here?” You say, his arrogance pinching at your agitation.

“Lighter.” He sings, eyes sparkling with amusement meeting yours, stealing another grape in the process. Turning his head, he focuses on Nancy. “Wheeler, how’s it going?”

“Good.” She laughs, still shaking her head. 

“Heard you tattled on me to Princess.” He says, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his face.

“Eddie, leave her alone.” You huff. You feel his hand raise up your back, settling slowly, before rubbing back and forth. He leans in closer to you, face brushing against your hair.

“Gotta share the attention sometimes, princess.” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles the shell of your ear and you feel your heart rate pick up.

You sit up straighter, Eddie’s chin knocking into your shoulder as you reach into your front pants pocket.

“Lighter. There. Leave.” You say, finding his free hand to push it into his hold. 

“Good girl.” He teases, quickly pulling you closer to him with a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You feel yourself burning hot and it takes everything in you not to hit him back with some sort of insult but you know if you do he’ll just stick around for longer. 

He gets up from the bench with a coy wave of his fingers and a polite nod to Nancy, disappearing into the crowd of the lunch room.

“Nancy, if you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god.” You say, holding back your smile as you watch your friend’s eyes burst with amusement. 

“I wasn’t going to say I told you so!” She laughs. 

“I can see it in your eyes Nancy, I know you’re dying to say it.” You reply.

“I won’t say it… but I will say that you’re blushing pretty hard right now.”

“Out of embarrassment! That was embarrassing, Nancy.”

“People aren’t usually that smiley after being embarrassed.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie kept his eyes on the prize all night. Not in a creepy way, just to make sure you were okay… and because he just liked looking at you. You were making it awfully hard though, the way you kept disappearing between the groups of people occupying Harrington’s infamous Saturday night party. 

His goal was to sell what he needed to sell, then he could have his fun. So when he sold his last eighth, his heart rate picked up as he bounded through the waves of people to find you. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a pang of nerves when he finally found you, all alone in the kitchen, getting yourself a drink. 

Steve decided late Friday night that the party was on. He called you up and from there you called Nancy. It’s a practiced drill at this point, Steve calls a few people, who call a few more people, and the word gets around pretty quickly. Eddie got news that night, and it was a given he would sell. He always sells at Harrington parties, similar to how you’re always drinking at them. 

“All your friends scurry off on you, Princess?” An all too familiar voice says right into your ear.

“No.” You say flatly, turning to see Eddie at your side. 

“That’s funny, I only see you.” He says, eyes teasingly looking around you before settling back to meet your gaze.

“You should get your eyes checked, there’s like 20 other people in here.” You say, motioning to all the other bodies occupying the room. 

“You know what I mean.” Eddie says, hip bumping yours gently as you pour from a bottle of something highly alcoholic into your cup. 

“Do I?” You laugh before quickly shooting back your drink. 

“Look at her, she’s a professional.” Eddie teases as you scrunch your face through the burning sensation in your throat, some of the liquid spilling down the corners of your lips from your overzealous tilt of the cup. Without as much as a second though, Eddie’s hand raises to you, wiping your chin dry. 

“Why are you so nice now?” You ask, leaning closer to him so he can hear you over the music. 

“I’m not.” He smiles, eyes leaving yours to watch as you set the empty cup down on the counter. He knows he’s lying, you both do. 

“Is it because I sucked your dick?” You giggle.

You take another step closer to him where he leans against the counter. His eyes meet yours again with a mixture of amusement and shock looming on the surface of his gaze.

“You’re more drunk than you look, princess” He holds your gaze, amusement taking the reigns until his eyes lower to the short distance you’ve created between the two of you. 

“I’m not drunk.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. Eddie watches you, you can tell he’s smiling and you’re not even looking at him. 

“Where’s Wheeler gone? You were with her all night.” He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head, meeting his gaze, lifting your eyebrows as you decipher his question. 

“You were watching me all night?” You ask teasingly, a smile playing on your lips. 

“Princess.” He exhales, rolling his own eyes jokingly. The way his little nickname for you rolls off his tongue makes your already dizzy head spin. 

“She went upstairs with Steve.” You answer, letting your hand rest on the counter, pinky brushing the material of his jeans where he leans against the marble countertop. 

“I hope she’s not as drunk as you are.” He replies, eyes on your fingers as you continue to brush them against him. You shake your head. You could tell him that their rendezvous was premeditated, and a recurring pattern between the two, but you don’t want to talk about them. 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? First you took care of me when I was sick, now you’re looking out for my friends. Such a sweet boy.” You coo, leaning into Eddie, removing your hand from the countertop and placing it flat on his chest to stabilize yourself. 

“Baby, I think you're too drunk, look at you being sweet.” He laughs and you dip your head, hiding the way his words affect you. You’re always ‘princess’, never ‘baby’. It makes your heart beat faster and your skin prickle.

You can’t help but notice how he doesn’t touch you though. He’s always poking and prodding at you in one way or another. Last time you saw him, he was all hands and kisses to your cheeks, but now, nothing.

“Did you make a lot of money tonight?” You ask, stepping in closer to him, your thigh pressing into his as you stand beside him.

“I did good enough.” He shrugs, arms staying closely to his sides and it almost makes you want to pout. He should be grabbing your hand or twirling your hair, doing what he always does. 

“You were busy all night.” You mumble, your head down, watching as you kick at his shoe before stepping over it with one foot. Still leaning against the counter, he shifts, arms moving at his side and you almost get excited before you realize he's just crossing them over his chest. You lower your hand, sitting it closer to his hip as you move to stand directly in front of him. 

“You were watching me all night?” He mocks, copying your same lilt.

“I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” You whisper, head down. He’s still not touching you.

“You did.” He replies, exhaling a laugh. You rest your other hand on his crossed arms, hoping he’ll get the hint but he doesn’t and you sigh, slouching into yourself. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asks, quietly.

“You.” You reply flatly. 

“Yeah, but you’re all pouty. You don’t pout. You scowl. Yell. Threaten violence.” He teases gently, dipping his face enough to meet your gaze. 

“You’re not touching me.” You mumble, words so quiet you can barely hear them yourself over the blaring music.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, leaning his ear closer to you. You step in closer to him, pushing your way between his legs.

“I said, you’re not touching me.” You grumble, annoyed that you have to repeat yourself. Even more annoyed when he hears you and still doesn’t touch you. You huff, pushing your body flat against his, but he stops you, hands on your shoulders holding you away from him.

“Princess, I can’t. You’re drunk.” He says firmly, serious eyes meeting yours. Your knee shakes as you try to stop yourself from stomping your foot. 

“You can. You just want to piss me off.” You say, funnelling all of your emotions and forcing them into a short lived anger. 

“Trust me, that’s not why.” He says softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your shoulders. You happily focus on his simple caresses on your bare skin, but the feeling it gives you just leaves you wanting more.

“You're touching me right now, Eddie. Just keep doing that.” You whine, giving him your best pout paired with doe-eyes. His gaze soften, eyes fluttering over your features.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says, flashing you a small smile.

“You like it though, that’s why you keep coming back.” You whisper. Eddie’s mouth pulls in a flat line and you think you might have said something wrong. His grip on your shoulders falls and you’re sure you did.

You’re sure you did until you feel his hands meet your waist, pulling you towards him. Your hands slip up his chest and around his neck and you hug yourself to him tightly. You absorb every ounce of him you can, every inebriated sense of yours captivated and buzzing with feelings and flutters. Even through the thump of the bass vibrating throughout the kitchen, you swear you hear his heart, or maybe it’s yours, either way it doesn’t matter because Eddie Munson is holding you just like you wanted him to. 

“I was waiting for you to come find me.” You whisper into the skin peeking out of the collar of his shirt as you press your head to his shoulder.  

In the bustling of the party, you stand chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other like this was the only way things were meant to be. He responds to you through the movement of his hands, rubbing up and down your back, touching you, just like you asked. Soothing you like you didn’t know he could. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Eddie, you’re not doing it right, you’re supposed to just come in. I’m not supposed to have to ask you.” You whine. 

“Princess, I can’t.” He says, smiling as you try to tug him through the front door of your house. 

“You can, you did it before, remember?” You say, giving him your best pout.

“You were sick.” He says, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he stands firmly outside, your tugs not making him budge in the slightest. 

“I'm going to be sick right now, if you don’t come inside.” You whine, punctuating your words with little stomps of your feet.

You may have taken a few more shots after Eddie broke up your hug earlier. You knew you had him at that point so maybe you took them just to spite him. It made sense at the time and as the night progressed, you were right. He was by your side the whole time, never more than an arm's length away. And when it was time to go home, you didn’t even have to ask, he was already offering you a ride and guiding you to his van.

“Princess, you’re killing me.” He says exasperatedly through a smile before stepping into the doorway. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Jesus, just drink the water, princess.” Eddie laughs. 

“I’ll do it if you lay down with me.” You say stubbornly. He shakes his head and you drop yourself down onto your pillow. “Please, Eddie. Please.” You plead, your eyes catching the dizzy image of him in the lowlight of your room.

“Drink the water and I’ll think about it.” He says sternly.

“Lay down and I’ll think about it.” You mock, copying his tone.

“You are so…” He laughs, trailing off.

“Good at giving blowjobs?” You giggle, filling in his sentiment. His gaze drops to the floor as he sits on the edge of your bed, shaking his head in disbelief of the moment. 

“I was gonna say ‘impossible’.” He corrects with a laugh. 

You furrow your brows. In attempts to prove him wrong you sit up, taking the water from him and silently finish it small swallow by small swallow until your belly feels impossibly full of water. 

“Done.” You huff, falling back to your pillow dramatically. 

“Good.” He says, hand patting your calf that’s sprawled against the comforter next to him. 

“No. Good girl.” You say, correcting him through giggles. He squeezes your calf, before sitting up enough to put the glass down on your bedside table. 

“Good girl.” He says to appease you, smirk heavy in his features. 

“Was I good enough for you to lay down?” You ask, flashing him innocent eyes. He exhales deeply and even in your spinning state, you know he’s weighing his options. His eyes track the span of the bed before looking back at you, seriousness written across his features.

“No funny business.” He says firmly, making sure to make eye contact so you know he’s serious.

“No funny business.” You agree, nodding your head waiting for him to give in. 

“Only for a few minutes. Sober you wouldn’t want me here.” He says, removing his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Yes she would.” You mumble with a pout but quickly get excited when Eddie starts shuffling to lay down. You prop yourself up ready to cozy into him but he stops you.

“Nuh-uh. On your side of the bed, princess.” He says, motioning for you to lay back down. You throw yourself to the mattress with a whined cry. 

“You’re no fun.” You huff, whine building in your chest.

“I’m not here to have fun, princess. This is serious business.” He laughs. 

You continue pouting on your side of the bed, turning enough to watch as Eddie settles into your mattress. His hair sprawls over your pillow, just like before, his throat bobbing as he swallows before turning his head to you.

“Go to sleep.” He says and your jaw drops. His lips curl into a smile, eyes dancing in amusement. 

“You’re mean, you couldn’t even say goodnight? Just go to sleep?” You shrill, trying to focus your gaze on Eddie to get your glare across. 

“Go to sleep.” He repeats, smirking as he reaches his arm to your bedside table, switching the light off, leaving you both in the low glow of the moonlight that sweeps in through your half open curtains. 

“Eddie, I can’t unless you say it nicely.” You argue.

“Princess. Please go to sleep.” He says with teasing lilt.

“No.” You giggle.

“I said it nicely, c’mon princess.” He groans.

“Eddie.” You whine, hearing the annoyance in his voice.

“Princess.” He mocks.

You scan your eyes over him, the low light helping you find where his hand lays at his side. Quietly, you tiptoe your fingers across the mattress until you brush against his hand. Before you can close your grasp, he rips it away with a tut. 

“Eddie, I held your hand when you wanted me to.” You whine.

“That was different.” He replies.

“No it wasn’t! Just hold my hand.” You say, pushing yourself up to try and grab his hand where it lies on his stomach now.

“Lay back down.” He laughs pulling himself further away from you. You drop yourself to the bed, your bottom lip quivering. It’s not for dramatics though, you know Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it.

“No. I’m tired of doing this, I just want you to hold my hand.” You whisper back. Eddie says some kind of teasing response but you ignore it, feeling too lost in the spinning of your head. 

In your current state, you feel a lot of things. Most importantly, you’re confused. These nights usually end with Nancy and Steve. Eddie's existence would have never even crossed your mind, but now, all you want is to be close to him. It doesn’t help that he’s been making you practically beg for his attention all night. It might seem sudden, but it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you feel your eyes grow wet. Your breathing starts to come out in harsh whines from your stomach that get caught in your throat.

When the first tear falls it feels catastrophic. It feels destructive, disastrous even. It feels like a break in your guard and you aren’t quick enough to catch it. There’s no snark left in the world that could patch this up right now. So you hide.

Pushing your face into your pillow, your tears free fall.

You feel shifting on the bed and you push your face further into the pillow.

“Are you crying?” Eddie asks softly, sounding closer to you now.

You don’t offer a response, your throat feels too tight to speak. You feel like you’re drowning in more than just tears.

“Princess, don’t cry.” He replies gently, all teasing gone from his voice. “I’ll hold your hand, here.” He finds your hand, taking it in his but it’s too late. The floodgates are open, set on their path of destruction, open to exposing damage.

His hand wraps around yours and you feel small. Not because of the size difference but because there’s a reason you don’t show these feelings. There’s a reason it’s easier for you to scowl and yell. This side feels too bare, too soft, too uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar and scary. It feels like offering yourself up to impending disappointment. It feels like waiting for someone to pick you up and they don’t. 

He pulls your hair, you pull his back. He stands you up, what can you do besides pretend it didn’t hurt?

You should yell, you should scold, you should threaten violence. You should tear your hand away, kick him out.

But you don’t. You couldn’t, not anymore. Not right now.

You just want Eddie, all games aside. You want him in the silence of the night, not through the bass of the music where one of you has to move left while the other moves right. You don’t want to dance the line of whatever this is anymore. 

You pull his hand, willing him to come closer, a silent plea through your tears, and he does. He shifts closer until you're pressed to him, your intertwined hands hugged between your chests as his other hand wraps around you, resting against your back. He soothes you with quiet promises of everything being okay intermixed with his own apologies that only make you cry harder. 

Maybe you’re not the whole reason that you two have ended up here, but you’re half of it, and it takes two to play this game. If you tap out, you’re half of the way to it being over.

If you walk away and he follows, isn’t that just the game changing again? A game of cat and mouse?

Maybe all these metaphors are stupid. Maybe they’re all a figment of your imagination that blossomed as a child from the first time he pulled your hair. Maybe you’re too old for these playground antics. Maybe you’re too old to not say how you feel. 

“I was sad when you didn’t come to pick me up.” You whisper, your sob-filled secret sailing into the darkness of the room as if his chest wasn’t there to catch your secret. 

Your words are as much for you as they are for him, you couldn’t admit your hurt before, but now you do. 

Truth tastes soft in your mouth, not at all like the burn of alcohol you’ve drowned yourself in. It’s not sweet, it doesn’t fix everything, it just creates a storm in your belly. A fight between everything you know, everything you’ve done, and something new. It’s unnatural, it makes you feel sick. 

“I know, princess. I’m sorry.” He whispers in return, his hand rubbing against your back. You imagine with every pass of his hand on your back he’s helping you fight the furries of the storm rising inside of you, but with the storm rising, there is nowhere else for these feelings to go but up. 

“I don’t want you to say sorry, I just don’t want you to do it again.” You cry.

Your throat constricts as you feel bile rising. 

“I won’t. I promise, okay?” He says softly. His words would have eased every metaphorical storm inside you, but this storm has turned literal, you’re about to vomit.

“Eddie, I'm gonna be sick.”

It’s a rush of limbs and a dash down the hall. Everything pours from you, every uncried tear, every burn, every furry, every roar of the storm. Everything you know, everything you’ve done, it all leaves you. And in its wake all you have left is Eddie’s hand rubbing your back, telling you it’s okay. It’s soft and unnatural but you let it absorb you entirely. It burrows into you, finding a place you never knew existed, a place where softness thrives and doesn’t need to be hidden by the guise of anger and indifference.

Eddie brings you back to your bed and in the silence of the night, apologies and promises lay side by side, holding hands. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

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