#i like to think he was really pissed and slammed the bathroom door and scowled at the mirror and it’s like his dad JUMPED OUT AT HIM

[isa-ah]

fuck it. isaiah

#oc #isaiah #melanie #elias #i was talking in the discord about how isaiah looks sooo much like melanie in his 20s #but in his 30s when he starts getting leaner and the testosterone really settles his features he looks more like elias #melanie and elias are both under 5’3 he comes from tiny stock #his greasy hair texture is actually identical to elias! #so when he’s little his hair sits like that always #but when he starts rlly taking care of it it’s more like melanie’s springy curls (she keeps it up) #elias would probably have pretty hair if he took care of himself #he actually dies a few years before isaiah has the realization that he looks like his dad #i like to think he was really pissed and slammed the bathroom door and scowled at the mirror and it’s like his dad JUMPED OUT AT HIM #there’s like a melancholic feeling to it. that feeling you get when a bad parent dies and you know there won’t ever be resolution #but it lends itself somewhat to reparenting himself? in a weird way? #and he meets sawyer around then! melanie’s older sister!

[miupow]

「 ♫ 」 ── 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

you hated minho with everything you had, but you just couldn't stop yourself from coming back for more again and again... he was just so sexy when he was jealous, and no one else made you feel the way he did.

PAIRING ── lee know x fem!reader

RATING ── NSFW, MDNI !

WARNINGS ── college au, fwb!minho, frat boy!skz, toxic and possessive behavior, jealousy, he’s very mean in this im ngl, oral (m. rec), face-fucking, dirty talk, mean dom!lino, degredation kink and name-calling, humiliation kink, slut-shaming, facials, non-consentual photo-taking, i really mean it guys lino is not a good guy

WORDS ── 1.8k

A/N ── an old deleted work i've rewritten for toxic sneaky link minho hehe >< hope you enjoy!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you ♡

taglist: @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @linocz , @skzooluvr

Minho's white-knuckle grip on your wrist was bruising, his blunt nails threatening to leave little stinging crescents dug into your skin-- you bit your lip to mask your giddy, triumphant smile as he tugged you into the spare bathroom, dragged you through the pulsating crowd as you tripped over your strappy heels. He only let go of you to slam the door shut and lock it swiftly behind him, his wild, firey eyes and grit-tooth scowl melting away to the bored and emotionless glare you were all to familiar with. It pierced through your vodka-soaked confidence in an instant, sent you reeling and scrambling for words to say as a dull throbbing took ahold at the base of your wrist, just over your pulse point. The flourescent lights of the bathroom made your eyes sting, too adjusted to the dark of the party outside-- it just made you struggle even more to look Minho in the eye. He always made you feel so small, towering over you and looking down at you as if you were nothing at all... and you hated it more than anything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you spat, rubbing your wrist, fighting to keep your strength as you leveled with his gaze. It wasn't like you to hold your ground like this-- you can tell it throws Minho off, pisses him off even further as he bullies his way into your personal space. The music that had been nearly deafening just moments before had been muffled into obscurity, stripped away to a booming bassline that nearly shook the floor; it reverberated through your body still, a thrumming under your skin that left you restless, nervous. Minho could read it all over your face.

“Excuse me?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed back venomously, taller frame advancing on you quickly. His arms come to brace themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you against the sink-- he crowds your vision, his warm breath fanning across your face, and you try desperately to look anywhere except into his deep dark eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—" you began, as sturdy as you could, but Minho's rough, humorless laugh cuts you off. His hands grip either side of the sink with force, and you can see the veins in his forearms ripple under the fabric of his rolled-up jacket sleeves.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” there was something all too familiar about this, Minho’s voice poisoning and dripping with something that makes your thighs shake and rub together— those long fingers you came to hate and adore grabbed ahold of your chin, squeezing your plush cheeks together as he forced your eyes to meet his. a broken, barely-there whimper sneaks it’s way past your pursed lips. “Are you trying to piss me off? Is that it? Whoring around with other guys right in fucking front of me?!”

“We were just talking—“

Minho sneers. “Sure you were, rubbing up all over him and talking all sweet while dressed like a fuckin’ slut.”

He spits the words out like it was a nasty secret, jolting through you with a sickening shock— your cheeks flush hot between Minho’s cold fingers, your panties growing damp embarrassingly quickly, molded to your wet pussy folds… you loved it when Minho was jealous, loved how to see just how nasty you would make him when you hit him where it hurt.

And maybe you loved it because it proved to you, in some sick, backwards way, that Minho even cared about you at all.

“I’m not dressed like a whore,” you retort weakly, sounding far more petulant and pathetic than you meant to.

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at you, shit. So damn beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

Minho let go of your face and backed away to take in your skin-tight dress, picked with care for the stupid frat party he had pulled you away from, the one that you didn't even want to go to— your hands twitched with the urge to cross your arms, hide and protect yourself in some way from Minho's piercing stare. Your little red dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, thin gold necklace sitting pretty just above the cleavage of your plush tits, spilling out over a push-up bra. Your outfit is complete with deep crimson lipstick painted on your quivering lips— Minho stared at them, wild and hungry, and it takes everything you have not to moan aloud.

"Slutty girl," Minho hummed, hand sliding up to caress at your exposed thigh. “So desperate for my attention… Gotta go whore yourself out so you can get put back in your fucking place? Remind you who you belong to?"

"I don't belong to you." You snapped. "We're not together, Minho-- you don't get to act like this when I see you with a different girl every week."

Minho just laughed, mean and ugly and right in your face, grabbing a rough handful of your thigh and squeezing. "Oh yeah?" he goads, the smirk on his lips doing little to hide the rage in his eyes. "You’re the one who keeps coming back for more, baby— just can’t live without this cock, huh? Constantly telling me it's over then crawling back into my bed. you’re not my girl but that pussy’s mine.”

"Fuck you," you spat, tears in your eyes.

Minho grinned venomously, opening up a pit in your stomach; his thumb ghosted across your skin, inched it's way underneath your dress, leaving a line of fire in it's wake. "Yeah, I know you want to."

You whimpered, torn halfway between pushing him off of you and begging for his touch-- the latter wins, despite all of your anger, your conflicted feelings. It always does. "please, Min--" you plead, desperate and wobbly, unsure of what you're even begging for.

"Get on your knees."

And like the slut you are, your knees hit the cold tile floor without any protest.

You were met immediately with the sight of Minho’s hard on, the outline of his thick cock straining the fly of his jeans. "'Atta girl,” Minho hummed, his voice low, one hand coming to cup your head and the other reaching to fumble with his belt. He looks his prettiest like this, you think, towering above you. Commanding attention and respect, no matter how lowly he treated you. He tugged his belt open, leaves it dangling from his belt loops, quick and rough in unzipping his fly; your mouth watered, eyes wide and hazy as you watch him pull his stiff cock out of his boxers, his shaft slapping obscenely against his belly. “Gonna fuck your face, gonna ruin that pretty throat— open wide, baby.”

His cock was flushed pretty pink and leaking precum, flared tip shiny and throbbing, begging for your tongue— you wasted no time to trail chaste kitten licks over the dripping slit, relish in the way Minho’s breath hitches from the feeling, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes in rapture, lose yourself in the salty, bitter taste of his shaft… and Minho grunted low in his throat, tightened around a fistful of your hair and pulled you back off his dick harshly, shaking you out of your reverie and knocking you nearly on your ass in surprise.

“Said I was gonna fuck your throat, stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth and stop teasing.”

Rougher than usual, he pushed you back to take his cock into your mouth, shoved you all the way down to his twitching balls. You gagged violently, tears collecting in your lash lines. “There we go,” Minho hissed, the hand in your hair rubbing soothingly over your burning scalp. “Take it like a good girl.”

He began to thrust into your throat in true earnest, uncaring for your comfort, heavy balls slapping against your chin in a dizzying rhythm— your whines and whimpers were muffled by his cock, nasty wet noises filling the bathroom as your boyfriend uses you like a toy; the perfect backing vocals for the slow song playing outside. “Shit!” Minho whined, his hips stuttering, your nose bumping up against his pelvis— your lips left smeared red marks along his shaft and the base of his dick, and some sick satisfaction bubbles up inside of you, makes you smile around the cock fucking your throat open; while Minho ruins your makeup, leaves you gasping, drooling and choking, you’re marking him up too. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl--!"

Your pussy throbbed, empty and aching, and it registered somewhere in the back of your mind that you were crying, hot tears and ruined mascara streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minho fucked your face. "I'm-- shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna take it, yeah? Gonna make everyone know you're mine, all mine-- fuck, 'm cumming--!"

Your eyes rolled back in delight, pretty painted mouth opening impossibly wider in preparation to take his load, but it never came— to your shock and awe, Minho pulled you off of his cock with a sickening pop, just seconds before rope after rope of hot, thick semen shoots all over your face. On your nose, cheeks, chin, some droplets falling on the flat of your tongue— you moaned at the taste despite the abject horror settling in your chest. And you watch, wide eyed and too dazed and dizzy to fight back, as Minho pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. He smirked down at his phone screen before turning it around for you to see.

You were a mess. Your hair was disheveled, tangled everywhere from Minho’s hands. Your makeup was ruined, all over your face in tear-stained streaks... your face was pink and blotchy, shiny with splatterings of Minho’s cum, and your lipstick was smeared across your cheek, nearly to your ear. You gasped, frozen in place, unable to react any other way... Minho's smirk broke into a laugh, hollow and evil and eating you alive.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Minho snickered, sliding his phone back in his back pocket. "Might just have to show you off-- such a pretty picture deserves to be shared, don't you think?"

He’s quick to tuck his soft— still lipstick stained— cock back into his jeans and buckle back up his belt, fix his hair in the mirror. He looks a little sweaty but otherwise well-kept, and you wish now that you had kissed him more, marked up his face and neck with lipstick too and not just his dick, when you had the chance. "Clean yourself up, won’t you? You look like a mess.” 

And with that, Minho unlocked  the door and stepped  out of the bathroom, shutting it behind him with a dull click. 

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #minho x reader

[pasukiyo]

Could you please write a Steve Harrington smut!!! where it’s season 3 and him and reader have been drugged by the Russians. When Dustin makes them watch back to the future they sneak off to the bathroom because they’re both needy and have really desperate passionate sweet sex?

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲.

— steve harrington x f!reader

warnings; steve and reader are fuucckkkkeddd upppp, bad writing lol, sex, bad jokes, potty humor lmao

a/n; not very proud of my writing here but i loved this idea pls 😭 still trying to get back into the groove of writing so hopefully my writing will get better again 💀 gonna try and write longer fics too once i get my shit back together

word count; 1.5k

“hey, i think—“ steve stopped to hiccup, the back of his hand rubbing over his lips as he giggled behind it. “—i think, i have a great idea.” she giggled back and leaned into his arm, her own slithering around it, never minding the armrest of the movie theater seat digging into her side. “yeah, stevie?” she purred, nuzzling her nose into the crook of her neck. if either of them had been sober, they’d be able to notice the looks of disgust the movie goers behind them gave, but they were both far too gone to notice nor care. 

 steve glanced over to the big screen before them, his teeth sinking into the plush flesh of his bottom lip in a failed attempt to stifle yet another giggle. “what if..” he stopped again, as if to add suspense. “..we go to the bathroom.. and play a game.” she felt her stomach do a flop as she hiccuped, unable to sift through the haziness of her mind— nor did she want to. 

 “yeah? what kind.. of game?”

 steve flashed a cheeky grin, “one where.. you play the mommy.. and i’ll be marty mcfly.” she pouted, “noooo, i wanna play marty mcfly,” she whined, smacking his bicep. “why can’t you play the mommy?”

 he scowled, “no,” he whined back, “it doesn’t work like that. you—“ hiccup, “—you have to be the mommy.”

 “wait, why is it mommy and marty mcfly?” she questioned, lips puffy with her pout. steve’s eyes rolled in their sockets, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all day. “because in the movie his mom wanted to fuck him,” he gestured to the big screen ahead with his palm. “see?”

 her forehead wrinkled when she furrowed her brows, wiping at her eyes in an attempt to rub the blurriness away. “what?”

 “you haven’t been paying attention, have you?”

 “noooo,” she yawned, her temple falling against the curve of his shoulder, her nails burrowing into the skin at his wrist. “marty mcfly went back in time and like, his mom was coming onto him,” steve explained, ignoring the complaints coming from the irritated movie goers around them. “but—“ she paused to tap her chin. “like, she didn’t know he was her son, right?” she asked, blinking up at the screen. “because like, if she did, she totally wouldn’t have sex with him, right?”

 steve blinked. 

  “woah. i didn’t think about that.”

 “oh my god, steve,” she giggled. “i totally get it now. you want me to play the mommy because marty mcfly’s mom totally wanted to bone him.”

 steve’s knuckles dug into his closed eyelids, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip once again. “should we go to the bathroom now and play?” he questioned in a murmur, and her hand slithered down to his, their fingers locking together. “totally.”

 they staggered as they arose to their feet, much to the people behind their seat’s dismay, and she leaned into steve’s side for support, squeezing his upper arm as he shuffled his way through the aisle, stepping on people’s feet left and right. they giggled at their curses, finally making their way to the exit and slamming the door against the wall as they swayed down the hallway towards the restrooms. 

 “they were so pissed off at us,” she chuckled as steve led her into the men’s bathroom, the concept of the lock going way over either of their heads. she giggled as she backed up until the backs of her thighs hit the sink, and steve’s palms gathered her hips, pressing them against his own as his lips captured hers in a sloppy kiss. she giggled into his mouth as their tongues lazily danced over one another, and she moaned, her palms flat against his chest when she pulled away. 

 “wait but steve, we can’t play mommy and marty mcfly because like, his mom didn’t know he was her son when she—“

 “you know, the more i hear you say it, the more gross it sounds,” he interrupted with a forefinger to her lips. “maybe we should just like, do what we normally do.” her arms slithered around his neck when he pressed his hips back into hers, and she giggled at the bulge in his pants prodding against her clothed sex. “stevie,” she mewled when his lips began their assault on her jaw, tongue sloppy as he licked right underneath her ear. she shivered, her hands slipping down the short sleeves of his scoops ahoy uniform to his elbows, her fingernails etching crescents into his skin. 

 he hummed in question whilst his lips kissed further down her throat, his head nuzzling into the crook of her neck to suck at her collarbone. “stevie,” she whined again, rutting her hips against his, desperate for some sort of friction. “what is it, pretty?” he purred as his warm palms ventured their way beneath her shirt, tugging it up and over her head. she almost didn’t notice, much more concerned with the throbbing between her legs. she squirmed when he tossed her shirt to the ground, his fingers curling over the hem of her shorts to tug them down her legs. “aw, look how wet you’ve gotten for me,” he giggled, nearing tripping over his own two feet when he pushed back between her legs, the tips of his fingers applying pressure just above her clothed clit. 

 “steve,” she cried, grinding her hips into his touch as he rubbed her over her panties. “you’re so pretty,” he cooed, weaving his fingers through her hair with his opposite hand, cradling the side of her head as she panted, and he rubbed harder at her panties, relishing the way her face contorted in pleasure. “steve!” she moaned louder this time, gripping at his wrist between her legs. “need you inside.”

 steve’s lips jutted out into a pout, “so needy.”

 she reached for the fabric of his scoops ahoy outfit, tugging at the blue material, “off,” she insisted, to which he complied, almost falling back onto his ass when he kicked off his shorts. her vision began to stir again and she blinked, desperate to clear the haziness away whilst steve fisted his cock, throwing his head back as he pumped himself. “you’re so,” he hiccuped behind his knuckles, chuckling into his skin, “—sexy.”

 she dug the heels of her palms into her eyes as steve peppered her face with kisses, tugging her panties to the side and guiding the tip of his cock towards her entrance. “my pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured against her temple as he rocked his hips forward, slipping through her entrance, his lips falling agape at the feeling of being squeezed so tight. “you’re so.. tight,” he moaned into her ear as she wrapped her arms back around his neck, balancing herself with his weight. “fuck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me.”

 she giggled, even as he began to set a sloppy pace with his thrusts, whimpering when she clenched around him. “at least we’re in a bathroom,” she snickered, referring to what he had said moments before. he blinked, his mind going fuzzy, his thrusts on autopilot as he tried to remember what he had just said, unable to make sense of anything in his jumbled brain. he whimpered her name as he pounded into her dripping cunt, their moans permeating the very public restroom, uncertain of whether or not they had an audience.

 it wasn’t like either of them cared— the drugs made sure of that.

 “oh, steve!” she cried, “oh, steve! steve!��� she chanted his name over and over and over again, becoming a woman possessed. “harder, baby, harder,” she mewled into his neck, seeking out his warmth. “wanna come so hard for you.”

 steve grunted, his cock spearing her aching pussy, practically slamming her into the wall behind her. 

 she was too cock-drunk— and quite literally fucked up— to care.

 “fuck yeah, baby,” he growled near the shell of her ear, his forehead dropping down onto hers as his thrusts became sloppier, signaling the beginning of his end. “gonna fucking fill you up, yeah? gonna make you come all over my cock,” he groaned as she tightened around him once again, her orgasm making her toes curl and her back arch until her chest was flush against his, one of his hands managing to work its way between their bodies to squeeze at her breast. “oh, oh, baby,” he hissed as he snapped his hips one final time before he spilled, painting her walls white with his cum. she cried into the crook of his neck as she came down from her high— at least one of them— whilst he collapsed into her, his knees nearly giving out. 

 “stevie?” she whispered after awhile, all of a sudden feeling dizzy.

 “hm?’

 “do you think that those big, scary russian dudes are looking for us right now?”

 steve paused. 

 she could feel his lips curve up into a crescent against her skin, and she could feel her own lips do the same before they both erupted into a fit of laughter. she clawed at his back to keep herself stable on top of the bathroom sink, blinking away the tears from her eyes.

 “do you think dustin’s mad at us for not staying until the end of back to the future?” she questioned, and steve grumbled into the dewy skin at her neck.

 “who gives a shit about dustin? marty mcfly’s mom wanted to fuck him.”

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things headcanons #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things x you #stranger things fluff #joe keery

[ontheshroom]

We Cry Together

Jack Harlow x reader

Smut⚠️

A/n: repost

Synopsis: Y/n and Jack argue and have angry sex after she wears something Jack disapproves of.

******************************

Jack slams the door shut after you.

“So, what? This is what we’re doing now?” He yells at you.

“Doing what, Jack? You want me to be hidden and control me so bad!” You yell back.

His face reddens with anger as it sets in that it’ll be a long night.

“Control you, y/n? How do I control you?” He yells.

“You try to tell me what I can and can’t wear! How I’m supposed to act! What I can and can’t post! You even tell me what I should and shouldn’t eat!” You scoff and walk away from him.

He grabs your arm and holds it tightly, keeping you in place.

“So that makes it okay to go out dressed like a whore?” He asks.

“You tell me! When I put this outfit on, being a whore wasn’t something I was thinking about, but if it’s what you think when you see me, then I guess we know where you stand.”

“We were with my friends, y/n!” He runs his hand over his face.

“Good. I hope they enjoyed what they saw.” You cross your arms.

“That’s the fucking problem! You’re only for me to see! Instead, you’re out looking like a whore!” He yells.

“Maybe I should act like one too. Maybe I should’ve fucked one of them!” You yell back.

“What did you just say?” He scrunches his face.

“I should’ve fucked one of your friends.” You scowl, pausing in between each word.

Jack walks closer to you until your back hits the couch, sandwiching you between both.

“You really think that?” He asks, running his fingertips up your arm.

“If I dress like a whore I should act the part, huh?” You ask, your voice low.

“Mmm.” Is all he says, a slight nod as he hums.

He wraps his fingers around your throat firmly but not threateningly. You squeeze your legs together, searching for any friction at all.

“Fuck me, Jack.” You whisper, looking up at him, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth.

Jack looks past you and nods to the couch. He backs up a bit, and you go to take off your dress before he stops you.

“Take off your panties and get on your hands and knees.” He says.

Embarrassment falls from you as you get on the couch, on your hands and knees. At first, Jack assumes you’re in a mood to be a brat till he looks and notices you’re not wearing anything under the dress. A scoff leaves his lips, and he gets behind you. You hear the clacking of his belt and pants falling to the floor. He runs his tip through your folds, and you gasp, bucking your hips toward him, begging for more. He slaps your ass harshly, grabbing the skin afterward. He pushes into you, bottoming out.

“Fuck, Jack.” You moan.

“Shit.” Jack curses.

His skin slaps roughly against yours as he repeatedly hits deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your moans are uncontrollable, quieting them with the couch.

“Tsk, not a whore, though?” He asks before pulling out of you and back in.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You moan, clenching around him.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine.

“Cum for me. Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

Your mind fogs from his words, and you squeeze around him tightly as you cum. Jack groans loudly behind you before he spills into you. Without him holding you up, you collapse onto the couch. Jack puts on his discarded boxers before sitting next to you on the couch.

“I’m sorry for being so controlling with you.” He admits.

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m somewhat sorry for wearing the dress. I thought it was cute, so I bought it, but I only really liked it cause I knew it’d piss you off.” You laugh.

“I knew it.” He shakes his head, leaning down and kissing you.

“Still wanna fuck one of my friends?” He asks.

“Only if I wanna be disappointed.” You peck his lips.

“Let’s go shower, and I need to pee.” You sigh, getting up from the couch. Wobbling as you walk to the bathroom.

Jack follows behind you with a chuckle.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow smut #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #dad!jack #jack harlow dialogue

[seokmthw]

crazy for your chemicals | seok matthew

⇢ pairing: matthew x afab reader

⇢ warnings: smut, brat tamer!matthew (slightly soft dom), brat!reader, oral (female recieving), spanking, slight manhandling, orgasm denial, i think that's it lol

⇢ word count: 1.4k

⇢ note: listen, i think matthew and jacob from the boyz (who both happen to be my bias from each group) are extremely similar and i think that they would both be completely different if you somehow managed to piss them off, and so that thought is what inspired this. it might also be slightly self-indulgent, but that's besides the point. to the anon who requested i write matthew smut, here you go, and i hope you enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

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matthew was always the sweet, loving boyfriend he showed when you were around your friends and family. he always had a sweet voice, pure intentions, and was loving beyond belief. he rarely lost his temper, let alone lost it with you, and it took a lot to even push him to that point, which is exactly why you currently had your lips on his best friend’s, the crowd of drunken truth or dare players surrounding you cheering loudly. 

you wanted so desperately to see what his anger was like, and see whether or not he would actually take it out on you behind closed doors. you pulled away from hanbin, a smirk adorning your face as you did so. all the boy in front of you did was giggle, his face flushed and hair messy from the alcohol coursing through his veins. 

you glanced over at your boyfriend, taking note of the way his eyes darkened and the bright smile he was flashing was now turned into a scowl, brows furrowed in frustration. this was it, you thought, you finally pushed him past his barrier of sanity. the game continued for a few more rounds before he rose to his feet and headed toward the bathroom, subtly motioning for you to follow him. 

you followed suit a few minutes later, padding down the hallway and eventually feeling his fingers curl around your wrist, his usual gentle nature completely abandoned by how tight it automatically was. he didn’t say a word, instead dragging you down the hallway toward his bedroom. you were completely unsure of what he planned to do, which excited you more than you would like to admit, and you could already feel your arousal pooling in between your legs at the thought.

the musing pulsing from the living room gently vibrated the floors beneath your feet and drowned out any of the angry grumbles he made along the way. finally, he shoved his bedroom door open, roughly pulling you in with him and slamming your body against the back of the door, his hand twisting the lock almost immediately. you gulped, eventually meeting your eyes with his burning gaze. you felt so small with him looking at you like this, and you momentarily regretted even starting this to begin with. 

his hands found their place on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to surely leave bruises in the morning. without saying a word, he leaned forward, catching your lips in a feverish, hot kiss, his mouth molding perfectly with yours. you snaked your arms around your neck, a quiet moan falling from your lips the moment he began trailing one of his hands beneath your shirt and over one of your breasts, rolling one of your nipples in between the tips of his fingers. 

his lips began trailing down your neck, sucking so harshly he knew he would leave a deep, purple mark on your skin. you groaned, arching into him, but only for him to pull away, his pupils blown out wide, and growling, “do you really think kissing hanbin was a good idea?”

“it was just a dare,” you feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes at him. you knew you were pushing just the right buttons as you added, “i never back down from them when we play, you know that.”

“you’re such a fucking brat,” he hissed, “last time i checked, you were mine,” his other hand found your clothed core,, rubbing harshly, “and only mine.”

you whined out the moment he pulled away from you, his eyes hungrily looking your body up and down as he tugged your shirt over your head. his own followed, tossed carelessly aside into a pile next to the door, before he lifted you up and took you over to the bed positioned near the center of the room. 

he laid your body down onto the mattress, his lips finding your neck once again. your breathing was ragged as he worked on the most sensitive spots; just below your ear, under your jaw, at the nape of your neck. bruises were littered across the entirety of your throat and chest, stinging from the harsh bites and sucks that your skin had succumbed. letting him have his way with you like this did things to you more than you would like to admit

he left a trail of wet kisses down your chest and to the waistband of your leggings, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of both your pants and your underwear and pulling them down off of your legs. he peppered small pecks along the insides of your thighs, purposely avoiding where you wanted him to be the most. you whined, trying like hell to get some sort of friction, but he hooked one of his arms around your leg, forcing them to stay apart. 

“brats shouldn’t get rewarded, you know,” he mused, his voice thick and eyes meeting with yours, “but i’m not one to make you entirely suffer, so you should consider yourself lucky.”

with that, he dipped his head down, licking a delicious stripe up your slit. your breath hitched in your throat at the sensation, feeling your back arch up off of the mattress. you felt your legs begin to twitch the moment he hummed against your clit, lips just barely grazing it as he stated, “you’re already soaked, and all for me, right? not because of hanbin?”

“n-not because of him,” you breathily answered, “only you.”

matthew continued his assault on your clit, groaning the moment your hands threaded through his hair and tugged at the roots. your orgasm was almost there, so close you could almost taste it, but the moment you uttered those words to your boyfriend, he was pulling away from you, completely ruining any chance you had of being pushed over the edge. 

you whined out, begging for him to continue, but matthew simply chuckled at your response. instead of giving in to you this time, he began to unbuckle his belt, his hooded eyes watching your face intently, your cheeks flushing peek from both embarrassment and frustration. he smirked, sliding his pants and boxers down, his painfully hard cock springing free from its restraints. 

you swallowed harshly at the sight of him, but before you could plead him for anything else, he commanded, “get on your hands and knees, now.”

you did as you were told, rolling over onto your stomach before propping yourself up as he asked. you waited, although you wouldn’t consider it to have been patient waiting, to feel his hands grip your hips, but it didn’t come. instead, a harsh smack was left on the sensitive skin of your ass, causing a surprised yelp to slip past your lips. 

“you know what you did wrong, right baby?” he questioned, his typical sweet voice replaced with something completely different than what you were used to hearing.

deciding you wanted to see how far you could push him, you smiled slyly, answering his question with mock innocence, “no, sir.”

another harsh slap landed on your ass, and this time, you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning and letting him know you were enjoying yourself. matthew offered a dry laugh, “you sure about that?”

“positive.”

“last time i checked,” you felt a final hit on the angry red patch of your skin, “kissing one of my best friends is considered to be wrong, even if it’s just a game.”

his calloused fingers yanked your hips backwards roughly, pressing the tip of his cock teasingly against your entrance. you attempted to push back on him, and this time, he let you, bottoming out inside of you with a loud groan. he filled you up perfectly, stretching you out just the right amount, but before you could fully adjust to him, he was pulling back and snapping his hips into yours with a force you’d never experienced from him. 

his pace was quick and relentless, and before you could bury your face in the sheets below you to muffle your whimpers, he was tangling one of his hands in your hair, yanking you up, his voice raspy as he spat, “what, are you too shy to let him hear you? you were so adamant on kissing him, surely you wouldn’t mind this, hm?”

nothing but an incoherent string of words came from you, and matthew simply scoffed, “already fucked you dumb, have i?” he reached down with his other hand between your legs, beginning to rub your clit in circles harshly. you felt a shiver run down your spine at his next words.

“buckle up, love, you’re in for a long night.”

#seokmthw #zb1 #zb1 drabbles #zb1 scenarios #zb1 zhang hao #zb1 ricky #zerobaseone #boys planet fics #boys planet #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #bp999 #zb1 x reader #zb1 reactions #zb1 imagines #zerobaseonefics #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 sung hanbin #zb1 seok matthew #zb1 park gunwook #zb1 kim taerae #zb1 kim gyuvin #zb1 kim jiwoong

[pokopippitypop]

Eddie needs a break.

Shitty pop music has been blasting in his eardrums for the better half of the night and if he had to listen to one more preppy asshole try to talk him into giving them a discount, he was going to go rabid and bite someone.

The second it seems there was no one scowling at him or watching him in any way, Eddie packs up his tin box and slinks out of the kitchen and closer to the front of the house, where he'd previously passed the staircase. God, he didn't even know whose stupid house this was but the decor had been pissing him off all night. Upstairs was no better, just white walls and scratchy beige carpet. Eddie takes a moment to consider the ugliest painting of an empty vase he's ever seen. Who the actual fuck would want to look at this? The music is still dully thudding in his brain as he lurks deeper into the upstairs of the house and down an unlit hallway. He could finally breathe up here, no flashing lights or droning music or stuck-up rich kids, just a nice dark corridor, maybe there was even a bathroom up here he could smoke in for a minute. Just a short break, one more round for potential buyers and then he's outta here, he tells himself. Eddie surveys the selection of doors before him, trying to determine which would most likely be a bathroom and settles on the end one that's been left slightly ajar. 

Eddie's jaw all but drops when he gently pushes the door fully open. Not a bathroom and also most definitely not empty. There are two boys pressed together, leaning up against the room's desk and very much making out. Eddie blanks for a moment, far too caught up in being suddenly treated with the vision of strong hands sliding up under the back of one of the guys shirt and the soft, breathy sounds they're making together and- for fuck's sake this really isn't a safe place for these two idiots, the door wasn't even shut!

"Dudes-" the two jolt apart and Eddie's next words die in his throat as his brain decides to absolutely fry itself because holy shit, holy fucking shit that was Steve motherfucking Harrington now glaring at him with dark, startled eyes and wet, red lips. What the actual fever dream was going on here? The other boy just bolts, head down as he brushes past Eddie. Eddie doesn't even turn to look at him, just stands in the doorway clutching his tin and gaping at The Steve Harrington and having not a single clue how this situation is supposed to go. Before Eddie can even begin to think of anything to say or do Steve pulls himself to his full height and is dragging Eddie by the collar of his jacket into the room. Steve slams Eddie up against the wall, his forearm pinned across Eddie's chest almost painfully. 

"The fuck are you doing, Munson? Creeping around my house, like the little freak you are. You didn't fucking see anything, got it?" Steve demands sharply, "no one'll believe you anyway but if I hear you've been running that big mouth of yours, I'll ruin you, yeah?" Steve jerks Eddie against the wall roughly. "Got it?" He scowls meanly, waiting for an answer. 

Eddie just looks at Steve, can feel his pulse hammering against his chest. His eyes, although dark and angry are too frantic, too pleading for Eddie to take his threats at a surface level. Eddie knows the feeling, the terror of being found out. He can see it in Steve's face now. He's more scared than anything, fear blatantly etched into his expression, the snarling anger very thinly hiding the fact that Steve Harrington was terrified. 

“Steve, hey, Steve it’s okay, I'm not gonna tell anyone. I promise, it’s cool, man," Eddie starts softly, still trying to push aside his shock at the situation. "I’m uh well come on surely you know about me,” Eddie fixes him with a titled little smile, trying for a playful, calming tone, “I’m gay too, dumbass." 

Eddie watches as Steve seems to calm down a little and properly assess who he's talking to. His hand against Eddie's collar twitches and he seems to be deep in thought for a moment before looking back down at Eddie, his eyes having lost their desperate edge. Steve lets out a breath, pushing back from Eddie slightly, “I’m not gay.”

Eddie can't help but to snort, “I dunno man, kissing boys at parties is pretty gay, Steve.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve snaps, releasing Eddie with a pissy little shove, but there's no real bite in his voice anymore. 

“Uh huh, sureee oh! and if you ever wanna casually make out with a boy, you know, in a very straight way, let me know yeah?” Eddie offers just to rile him up. 

“No, Eddie, I’m bisexual.”

Eddie pauses and stares at Steve, not even trying to not seem fully surprised. Steve is just watching him expectantly with a mildly annoyed yet unsettlingly genuine expression. Eddie just blinks at him dumbly before taking on his favourite shit eating grin. 

“That’s a big word for you, Harrington. Congratulations.”

Steve rolls his eyes, his defensive stance melting away into a hand on his hip as he moves away to lean against the desk again. “Jesus Christ, you're a real little shit, aren't you?” He scoffs, very obviously trying not to smile and God, if that doesn't just simultaneously kill all of Eddie's brain cells. Eddie is back to staring at Steve blankly, taking in his messed up hair and the way it droops softly over his face, the way the denim of his jeans sits oh so snugly against his hips, how the sleeves of his stupid polo shirt cut across the muscle of his biceps, the shadow of his eyelashes, how stupidly pretty his eyes are. Eddie is suddenly being confronted by many thoughts and possibilities that he would never have even dreamed of including Steve Harrington in. It had been so outside of Eddie's bounds of reality that he hadn't even fantasized about this, but dear God the floodgates were open now. 

“Well, uh my offer still stands.” Eddie cringes at his own voice, scolding himself for practically throwing himself at goddamn Steve Harrington of all people. 

Steve smiles at him, his eyes flicking over Eddie and holy shit, holy fucking shit Eddie was well and truly fucked. 

“Uh huh, and was that the offer to make out with you in a straight way?” He asks sarcastically, with his prissy little smirk. 

Eddie just shrugs, totally chill and feeling incredibly normal and sane about this situation, “or in a gay way, I’m not too picky.”

Steve eyes him with a wide smile, “Oh, so you’re easy, are you?”

“Steve Harrington!” Eddie gasps dramatically, a hand over his heart, “I am not! You gotta at least buy me dinner first, sweetheart." Eddie knows he’s lying out loud, he would sleep with Steve at the drop of a hat. From the look on Steve’s face, he knows this too.

Steve's looking at him with lingering eyes and this devilish little grin, "I'm sure I could manage that," he muses. 

Eddie must have some insane automatic cockblock protocol installed in his brain though because just when Steve is looking at him like he could eat him alive Eddie blurts out, "you should go find your friend, your boy, uh that guy that- ya know, he's probably freaking out, man but I didn't see who it was, so, tell him not to worry." Eddie finishes his reel with what he can actually, physically feel in an awkward smile.

Steve's hungry expression drops into something soft and affectionate and, nope that's somehow worse. Eddie's stomach goes all fluttery because now Steve Harrington is truly just looking at him. He breaks out into this cute little, appreciative smile, head tilted as he considers Eddie for a moment. Steve runs a hand over his face, and Eddie mourns every second he can no longer see that smile. Steve finally sighs and stands up from leaning on the desk, glancing at the door, "Yeah, shit, you're right, I don't want him getting all paranoid." 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees lamely.

Steve doesn’t make a move to leave though, looking back at Eddie and shifting awkwardly, “uh, sorry for threatening you and shit, man, I was just... you know.” He makes a lame hand gesture in the place of elaborating.

“Nah man, I get it, you’re all good, just close the fucking door next time, better yet, lock it. For fuck’s sake you gotta be careful with this Steve.” Eddie scolds lightly.

Steve signs and looks to the floor, “yeah, I know.” Steve just nods once, easily dismissing the topic. He looks back up and finally moves to the door, pausing to give Eddie one last famous Harrington grin. “I’ll be seeing you around, Munson.” Steve practically promises, like it’s a request rather than a simple goodbye, before slipping out into the hallway.

Eddie stands there for several minutes, gaping at the empty space Steve had just left, wondering if he was going to wake up tomorrow morning and find out this was all some convoluted wet dream.

//

hi hi :) might add to this (might not)

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic #my post

[jakekiszkaenthusiast]

i see it- j.m.k

warnings: SMUT, lil bit of degradation never hurt nobody, enemies to lovers, semi public sex??

anger. resentment. indignation. rage.

whatever you wanted to call it, it was clear and profound. your leg bounces against your chair, while your fingers tap a quick, messy beat into the glass you’re holding.

the silence within your group of friends was stiff, and tired. they were so used to these pauses- the ones where no one feels as if they can speak, while a quiet battle wages on before their eyes. a standoff between two people, tense and unforgiving, for all to see.

“you got no response? no shitty little remark to make?”

josh’s voice captures your attention, but you refuse to look at him. instead, you shake the glass, the rattling of the ice being the only sound for a moment. he scoffs, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

“that’s what i thought.” he mutters, catching the roll of your eyes and mirroring them.

“are you guys gonna keep doing this all night, or can we all-”

“-i just think it’s fucking funny that you actually, genuinely believe you have any say in what i do, or wear.” you cut jake, always the mediator between you and josh, off with a hand and a bitter tongue.

jake merely shakes his head and nurses his drink, defeated. he was fighting a losing battle, and would be a stupid man to get in your way when either of you were like this. he knew, maybe better than anyone, that his twin brother was a force no one could reckon with, and secretly thought that perhaps his brother had met his match in finding you.

“maybe stop dressing like a slut, and i’ll shut up.” josh shoots back, and you laugh without mirth.

“oh now joshua, don’t tease.” you say, because there’s really nothing you’d want more than for him to stop talking.

“i’m just saying, if you’re dressed like a whore, you can’t expect people to respect you. i know i don’t.”

“who says i give a fuck about respect, or you, for that matter? all you are is my friend’s asshole brother. you don’t matter to me, and i wouldn’t be shocked if no one cared about you.”

“god, you’re a bitch and a slut. no surprise you’re single- no one can stand to be around you for longer than a minute. does it ever get lonely?”

usually his words would bounce off of you, and you’d shoot back with a remark even more harsh than his. you’d both end up with ugly scowls across your faces and one of your friends changing the subject in poor attempts to keep the peace. usually.

maybe you had drank too much, the alcohol taking control of more than just your words. maybe it was because josh was incessant and cruel, and you no longer had the energy to fight back. either way, you found yourself slamming your glass against the table and your legs carrying you in the direction of the bathrooms before you could stop to think.

the door slams behind you. you’re cold and hot at the same time, shivers taking over your shoulders while your body overwhelms with heat from the inside of your chest. looking up at yourself in the mirror, you sigh. maybe you were dressed provocatively. josh was right.

you feel even more angry at that thought. you hated that tiny possibility of josh being right, hated when he managed to catch you off guard and make you feel meaningless and small. he was a raging asshole.

the door behind you flies open with a crash, revealing a red-faced and thoroughly pissed off josh. he stormed into the tiny room, getting too close for your liking, invading your space with his cologne.

“you’re really that sensitive?” he speaks just barely above a yell, his fists clenched.

“i don’t want to speak to you right now.” your eyes meet in the mirror.

“too bad. you really can’t take what i give you, huh? you want me to walk away just so your feelings don’t get hurt?”

josh steps closer, glaring so hard his eyebrows almost touch, his breath ragged with barely contained rage. you grip the counter, refusing to give him an answer to pick apart and spit back out at you.

“i don’t give a fuck about your feelings.” he whispers, and you’re suddenly aware of just how close he is. you feel the warmth of his body, feel the brush of his white shirt against your back.

you manage to twist your body to face him, leaning back against the counter with a startled breath catching in your throat. his eyes flick down to your lips for a brief second, before finding your eyes again.

“fuck. you.” you spit out through gritted teeth, staring defiantly into his face.

“i bet you’d love that, whore.” he murmurs.

you open your mouth to shoot back something cruel, but his hand stops you. he silences you, watching as your eyes widen and you try to pull away, but to no avail.

“shut up for once.”

you wrestle against him, thrashing your head from side to side. your hands grab his wrist, digging your nails into his skin and tightly squeezing, trying your hardest to pull him away from you. josh laughs at your efforts, using barely any of his strength to render you immobile and frustrated.

when you still, slumped against the counter with a deep sigh, he removes his hand, ghosting it across your cheek to hold you there, his other hand joining soon after. he tugs your face closer to him, and you can see all the specks of gold in his eyes.

you’re silent, staring at him with dumbfounded surprise. he’d never been this close to you, nor had he ever laid a finger on you. this closeness, the strong, sturdy weight of his chest pressing against yours makes your throat tighten, and you can’t seem to find your breath.

without warning, you’re leaning in, chasing his mouth with yours, just barely grazing his lips before he pulls away. he looks at you with a smirk, a quirk in his eyebrows betraying that this was his exact plan.

“you wanna kiss me?” he says quietly, his fingertips pressing into your cheeks.

you nod embarrassingly fast, letting go of his wrists to grab at his jaw. he breathes a laugh, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, before leaning in just close enough to run his lips against yours.

“you want me?”

to answer his question, you tug on his neck and crash your lips to his. you don’t let either one of you come up for air, and quickly slip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

he groans into your mouth, sweeping his hand across the back of your neck and tangling his fingers with your hair. you can’t get him close enough, it seems. your fingers scrabble at his back, his shirt, his neck, his hair- anywhere you can touch you’re digging your nails into, gasping into the kiss and pulling him tighter.

josh pulls on your hair to break the kiss, laughing breathlessly when you still try to chase his mouth. your hands are still wandering anywhere you can reach, dancing across the unexplored and new territory that was his body. you’d had the displeasure of knowing him for years, and yet you’d never been given the opportunity to touch him. you privately wished you had never been denied such a delectable chance.

“where’s this been hiding all these years, hm? how long have you wanted to do that?” he asks, smirking at your flushed cheeks.

“how long have you wanted to do that, joshua?” you bite back, tugging on a curl and watching his eyelashes flutter.

when he rolls his eyes and kisses you again, you laugh into his mouth. he lost any ounce of secrecy the moment you felt how hard he was against your thigh.

this time, josh is the one who grabs and pulls you into him. his fingers are tight and desperate against your hips, and he doesn’t have to say a word to order you to jump, effortlessly sliding you onto the counter and slotting himself between your legs.

“if anyone catches us, i swear to fucking god” you groan, suddenly remembering exactly where you were, and horrifyingly, how the door did not lock behind josh.

“let them watch” he mutters against your lips.

you can’t help the sound that rips out of you- the combination of his filthy implications and the pressure of him against your soaked panties was enough to make you crumble, fully submitting to his touch. he pulls away, replacing his mouth with his hand once more.

“if you make another sound i’ll stop, and you’ll have to sit out there with our friends with a mess between your legs. we don’t want that, do we?”

rapidly you shake your head, breathing heavily against his hand.

“that’s what i thought. good girl.”

another noise escapes you. your eyes flutter shut when you feel his fingers pressing between your legs, gently smoothing circles into your underwear.

“you like me calling you that, good girl?”

you nod so quickly you fear your head may fall off, ignoring any ounce of humiliation you know you’re supposed to feel.

“it’s a shame. a dirty slut like you could never be a good girl.” he speaks low into your ear, sending shockwaves through your chest to your toes.

“you dress like a whore. you like to pretend you’re all innocent, but i know the truth. i know you.”

his fingers change from their languid, calm actions, shoving your underwear roughly to the side and sliding between your folds. the corner of his mouth twitches, noting how wet you are.

“i know that you like when we argue, because i get you all worked up- you always rush off to touch yourself in secret, don’t you?”

swirls around your clit force your eyes to the back of your head. your body sags, slumping down as he deftly works over you, occasionally running a finger against your entrance, but never slipping inside, no matter how badly you conveyed you wanted it.

“wishing it was me, wishing i would take all my anger out on you with my cock, yeah?.”

you feel like you’re on fire, you’re that worked up. he slides his finger inside of you and you almost unravel then and there- he has you so tightly wound, practically wrapped around his finger, you could explode at any moment. he curls his finger into your sweet spot, and you think you’re going to evaporate into nothing.

“it’s almost funny how badly you want me. you know i can see your thighs squeeze together when i call you names, right? i see what i do to you without even laying a finger on you.”

a second finger finds its way inside of you, and he finally gives you the movement you’ve been silently begging for, sliding in and out of you with a sweet pace that makes your thighs shake.

“prove you’re a good girl and cum on my fingers, okay? be a sweet little princess and give it to me.” he commands in such a gentle voice you could almost believe it was a request; that he was asking for it and not demanding it from you.

embarrassingly, you’re almost there already. the manner in which he spoke to you, soft voice with filthy words, and the speed and skill of his fingers felt more perfect and right than anything you’ve ever experienced. you try to remind yourself that he was someone you hated, someone you’d rather hit with your car than fuck, but you involuntarily shut those thoughts out with a carnal, unstoppable chanting of his name. you aren’t sure if you’re speaking out loud or in your mind, and you aren’t bothered enough to care either way.

your orgasm hits you like a wall, crashing into you and setting you on fire. you just barely hear josh’s voice coaxing you through it, floating away into the feeling of pleasure coating your body. he brushes his thumb over your clit, and you almost scream at the sensitivity, arching your back and whining softly.

“such a good little girl, you did exactly what i told you to do. so obedient.” he observes the wetness covering his fingers with lust-blown pupils, biting his lip.

despite the haze of your orgasm, you reach out for the button of his pants, tugging and pulling at the fabric until you find what you’re searching for, the object of your needs. you waste no time wrapping your hands around his cock, pumping him with a tight fist, running your thumb over the sensitive spot just under the head. he squeezes his eyes shut, letting his mouth hang open for a second.

“spread your legs again, need to fuck you. ‘m so hard-shit.” he commands with far less composure than the last time, his eyes half-lidded and soft while his hand grabs at your knees to open you to him again.

you take his cock with no effort, watching with wide eyes as his face scrunches up, barely able to control it. the very moment he fills you up is one you’d love to live in forever. the slow glide of him stretching you out, his fingers grabbing at the sides of your thighs, that delicious, burning end to all the anticipation- it was overwhelming, too much and not enough all in one fell swoop.

watching the furrow in his brow, hearing the catch in his throat when you clench tightly around him, feeling his tip brush against that sweet spot buried deep inside of you was intoxicating- dangerous and electrifying in the same way watching a fire dance and stumble with no control is, engulfing everything in its wake- you knew you’d forever chase this high, knew you’d never get it again. he was addictive.

josh tips his head back and groans into the air, a deep and throaty sound that makes you clench around him. he rocks his hips forward, his eyes rolling back momentarily, before repeating the action again. and again. and again. soon, he’s thrusting into you with no control or hesitation, squeezing your thighs so tightly you hope they’ll bruise.

you hold his head in your hands, running your fingers over his cheekbones, and pull him close to you. your mouths touch, but you never kiss. neither one of you feels the need to extend the contact into anything more- frankly, moaning against each other’s mouths, panting and whining openly for just the other to hear, is more intimate than kissing.

“fuck, you feel so good.” he whispers, in a voice far more soft and desperate than you’re sure he wants, his hips speeding up.

“please don’t fucking stop.” you gasp out, clutching the back of his head with shaking fingers.

“wouldn’t even if i could.” he replies, so far gone he can’t control the speed of his hips or the words coming out of his mouth.

lost in the moment, you both lose time. the feeling of him everywhere, his lips grazing your jaw, his fingers on your hips and between your legs, his cock sliding in and out, the smell of his skin- everything. it makes you dizzy and warm, and you’re not sure how long you’re both lost in the swirls of pleasure floating around your heads, but you know you’d pay disgusting amounts of money to stay like this for a lot longer.

josh pulls you back to the present with a loud cry, his eyebrows knotting together and his mouth hanging open. just knowing what was about to happen was enough to push you over the edge, and you’re suddenly both careening into your own personal heaven, handcrafted and made just for you.

his hips still roll into you as you both cum, and you whine. you’re so sensitive, you can hardly cope, pressing your head against the wall behind you while loud sounds are forced past your lips. you push a hand against his stomach, begging for a reprieve, but his eyes are closed.

“can’t stop, feels too fucking good. can’t stop cumming- fuck.” he pants.

tears brim beneath your eyelids, your hips lift up and twist, trying their hardest to escape the overwhelming sensation as he keeps moving, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your sweet spot.

an inhuman noise leaves him, and he’s cumming again. his abdomen flexes, while his cock throbs so hard inside of you, you almost expect him to explode. he hisses when you clench down on him, warning him to stop, and he quickly pulls out, taking hold of himself and sighing deeply.

he’s still twitching when he helps you clean up, tenderly wiping between your thighs with one hand, while the other still cups his cock. you run a teasing finger along his length, and laugh when he practically jumps away from your touch, tensing and glaring coldly at your amused face.

“what you gonna do, yell at me? you’ll just get hard again.” you challenge, watching his eyes darken for a brief moment.

“i see how much you like calling me names, joshua. you’re not as subtle as you think.”

#greta van fleet #fanfiction #josh kiszka #greta van fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x reader

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

superposition

part four

— ♡

cw. | nsfw content

stan marsh was a blessing and a curse. he was a great godfather and a fantastic babysitter, and kyle’s best friend, but boy was he a whirlwind of disaster. somehow, someway, he managed to leave a natural disaster in his wake every time he entered your house.

as you stared at the state of your kitchen, you were absolutely convinced he was sent from hell itself. flour, batter, and melted chocolate covered every surface, including the floor and your children. ten-year-old kian’s hair was white, coated thoroughly in flour, and five-year-old sage’s mouth was surrounded by a ring of chocolate.

stan was crouched between them, doe eyes trained on your figure in the doorway, a bowl of half-mixed cake batter in his hands. you took a deep breath, closing your eyes and counting slowly to ten. you were drunk and irritated, a combination you were sure stan didn’t want to reckon with.

“stanley,” you began in a soft, shaking voice. “please explain to me why my children look like founding fathers.”

“i wouldn’t necessarily say founding fathers,” he responded sheepishly. you could hear the nervous smile in his voice, and it was pissing you off. kyle stopped just behind you, inhaling sharply. it took a few seconds before his hands were massaging your shoulders, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.

“sweetheart, you go upstairs. i got this,” he whispered in your ear. you finally opened your eyes, scowling at stan, and turned to kiss your husband. then you were taking the steps two at a time and slamming your bedroom door behind you.

sometimes you wished kyle had kept the short temper he had when he was younger. nowadays it only really came out around eric cartman, and his visits were far and few between. nowadays, it was only you getting angry. it was only ever you with a short temper and slim patience.

stanley marsh was all-around a fucking nightmare. of this you were convinced. it took nearly two hours before kyle was quietly entering your bedroom, rubbing your shoulders from behind. he pressed a kiss to the back of your head and rubbed his cold nose against your jaw.

“the kids are asleep. how about we take a bath, pretty thing?” he whispered into your ear, his fingertips trailing down your arm to take hold of your hand. you perked up at the thought, heart fluttering in your chest. the ghost of his fingertips was buzzing, leaving your body alight and your face flushed. even after all these years, kyle never failed to get you worked up over nothing.

“i think you should get the tap running,” you murmured, turning your head to press a slow kiss to your husband’s lips. he was the first to rise from where he sat on your bed, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips before running off to the conjoined master bathroom. you undressed yourself slowly, using makeup remover to take off all your makeup. once the tap fell silent, you graced kyle with your presence in the bathroom. the door lock clicked behind you.

he was already submerged in bubbly bath water, arm rested on the edge of the tub, the only lighting provided by flickering candles scattered around the room. you smiled softly at the man in the bathtub, the sentiment returned as his eyes raked your body.

normally, you’d be rushing to cover yourself with any cloth available, but there was something about kyle that made you feel beautiful. your hips had widened since bearing his two children, your tits were a little on the saggy side, and you never quite lost the pregnancy fat in your stomach, and yet he still looked at you as though you were the most beautiful woman on the planet.

you sunk into the warm water with kyle, capturing his lips in a sensual kiss. his hands immediately found their place on your ass, gripping tightly, pulling a low groan from your lips. you could feel him poking against your thigh, grinding your hips down against his cock and groaning into his open mouth. he moaned with you, guiding your hips against his, fingertips directing his dick towards your entrance.

once he finally entered you, you let out a high pitched whimper and continued the slow movements of your hips. his fingernails were forming crescents in your skin with how hard he was gripping you, bath water splashing over the sides of the tub, your shared moans filling the small room.

before long, the friction started building, a knot tightening in your lower stomach. you were finishing before you could fully grasp it, legs spasming and back arching violently. kyle’s hand flat against your spine kept you upright, sliding down to join his other hand in cupping the bubble of your ass.

he caught your lips, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, slowly standing from the bathtub, supporting your weight via your ass. you were sat flat against the counter within seconds, kyle pulling out just to sink to his knees. his tongue fluttered rapidly against your sensitive clit, drawing high pitched moans from your lips as your thighs tightened around his head and your hand buried itself in his damp curls.

he worked you through another two orgasms, the time between each shortening until you were a moaning, whimpering mess of jolting muscles and dripping juices.

“you’re so pretty,” kyle groaned into your pussy, planting one last kiss against your labia before rising back up to his feet. you circled an arm around the back of his neck, drawing his face down to get a taste of yourself. his tongue pressed against yours with every eager movement of your lips, his hand guiding his cock back into you.

his thrusts were rough and your moans were loud, filling the bathroom with obscene squelching noises and skin slapping skin. it took only a handful of movements before his hips stilled, his cock buried as deep as he could get it, twitching against your inner walls as he filled you to the brim.

as soon as he managed to finish bathing you, nearly an hour later, he snuggled up behind you in bed. you sighed contentedly, curling your legs in towards your chest, heart fluttering beneath your rib cage.

“you’re so amazing,” you whispered into the warm silence of your bedroom. kyle chuckled and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“i should say the same to you, my love. i really do have the most gorgeous wife.” you sighed again, smiling as you turned your head to glance at him over your shoulder.

even in the low lighting provided only by a nightlight in the floor, he was gorgeous. the shadows perfectly defined his sharp jaw and sharp nose, an elegant halo shining yellow against his fiery hair. you thanked every god above for sending you this beautiful man and letting him be yours forever.

“i love you, ky. i really do. but your best friend is going to be the death of me.”

masterlist

#superposition series #kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader

[harlowhockeystick]

"stop lying to me" w bruce wayne (battinson) for blurb weekend!

contains: angst, mentions of injury, blood, gn!reader, spoiler free

blurb weekend, every weekend

bruce stumbled through the doors into the batcave, the dark translucent lighting setting the cold tone that constantly flows through the streets gotham. he winced as he started to strip free of the suit, taking a sigh of relief when he was able to breathe without heavy restriction.

tonight, batman had it rough. he didn't take it easy like you wished he would, at least once in a while. sometimes you think he does it on purpose, just to piss you off. but he truly was put through the ringer. some guy got clever with a knife, nearly slit his throat if bruce didn't turn his head in time. his head got slammed against a brick wall, his fingers got jammed a few times, and he got punched in the jaw.

you knew what was at stake every time he put the mask on and started up his heavy duty car. more often than not, it made you lose sleep. knowing what might happen, that he may or may not come home. those thoughts keep you up at night, and you're able to finally rest when you hear his heavy footsteps and see his big frame walk through the bedroom door.

you do not sleep at nights much anymore. not since you started getting serious with bruce and moved in, all those years ago. you were able to stay up by reading books that bruce kept in the library portion of his manor. sometimes you picked a new movie or series to start. anything to distract you of what bruce is doing on the streets of gotham.

so now, as you rest on the large king size bed with the dim lighting surrounding you, you hear the faint sound of someone rumbling through the downstairs portion of the house. getting up and slipping into the cushioned slippers you go investigate the source of the sound.

that's when you see him; his large frame hunkered over the counter top, his hands firmly grasping the cold marble as he takes slow and deep breaths. "bruce?" you call out, heading towards where he stood. he didn't respond, he only changed his breathing pattern. he stood up more straight, wincing but ignoring the screaming pain in his side.

he kept his head low as you got closer, turning away, not wanting you to see the cuts, scrapes, and bruises that littered his jaw and neck area. you flipped the lights on that were underneath the counter tops before standing next to him. he smelled like sweat and the rain that never seems to leave gotham.

bruce was still wearing his compression tights and black tee shirt he always wore underneath the suit. you softly rested your hand on his shoulder and he slightly jumped at the contact. "hey," you softly spoke, trying to see what he was hiding from you. even though you already knew what it was. "you're home earlier than you usually are. everything alright?"

"i'm fine." he stated in response, turning to pull the fridge open to find something to munch on. saving a city can really starve a man.

"stop lying to me bruce," you immediately responded, "c'mon, let me help you." he pulled a sandwich out of the fridge that he had premade for himself before turning to face you. that's when you saw the marks that littered his soft pale skin. it made your heart sink, just like it did every single time. "you can eat while i fix you up."

he follows your lead upstairs to the bathroom where you start a bath, letting the hot water fill it up slowly. pulling out the first aid kit, you start rubbing medicine with a q-tip over the scrapes on his face. dipping a washrag in the tub you clean up the dried blood wherever it trickled to over his body. he grimaced while you did so, making you speed up the process.

"here," you removed the sandwich from his mouth and set it on the counter, "you can finish that when you get done taking a bath." he scowled his lips but eventually complied. you helped him out of his clothes and into the white porcelain tub.

"are you gonna join me?" bruce asked, his voice husky and dry. his eyes were soft, though. like the satin sheets he sleeps on and the fluffy pillow that helps him sleep at night.

"not tonight, batman. i already took one," you explained as you sat down on the soft memory foam rug in front of the tub. your arms resting on the side, one of your hands moving to rake through his hair. "next time, though."

the night wound down as the sun began to rise. the curtains were closed and the covers were pulled above both of your shoulders. the two of you rested easy now. bruce allowed himself to rest easy in your arms as his body rested into the soft mattress.

his head was laying on your chest as his eyes began to drift closed. the only sound filling your ears was his heartbeat, which sounded much better than the constant chaos that is gotham.

#j's writing #the batman #bruce wayne #battinson #bruce wayne imagine #batfam x reader #battinson x reader #battinson imagine #batman imagine #batman x reader #dcu imagine #dc imagine

[twinklelilstarkey]

Can I Maybe request a fight with mtkachuk but ends happy???

A/N: Of course. Hope you like it!

You and Matt had a fight. It honestly didn’t come as a surprise. The both of you were in a bad mood the whole day and all you wanted to do was stay home and be alone. And, well, that didn't happen. All because of your plans.

You had planned, weeks prior, with your friends to go have a big evening and dinner out together. The plan was purely for the enjoyment of everyone. It didn’t require a lot of moving or walking around or even driving, so, no complaining about that. It was just a big hang out in someone’s backyard, a late lunch while you talk about life, and, eventually, late at night, a drive to a restaurant to end the day and have the last group meal.

Again, it was supposed to be something light-hearted, but it didn’t take long for Matthew to get under your skin.

Even though the bad mood was from the both of you, he didn’t even care enough to fake a smile when to greet people. Oh, and you were pissed.

You sat beside him during the whole afternoon while he scrolled through his phone and ignored most conversation starters. You tried to overcompensate and be double as social as you normally are because of it.

By the time you got to dinner, it was safe to say: you were exhausted.

And Matthew? His phone had just died so he had nothing to do but actually talk to people. Your friends were nice enough to welcome the moody man into their group conversations but no matter how many pokes you gave his side or pinches on his arm, he just didn’t seem to understand what you wanted. Which was, of course, to be slightly nicer with everyone.

The drive home was complete hell. The first few minutes were just silent, yet as soon as you get to the first red light, a simple unnecessary comment from him and you just snapped.

You two screamed at one another the whole drive, and scream after scream, it surely just ended with you just hurting one another more and more with each sentence.

You remember flashes of the last minutes before getting inside the apartment. You remember slamming the door of his car, sobbing your way through the lobby of the building, and closing yourself in your shared bedroom to cry in peace.

Matthew stayed in the car for a while longer, he ignored the shivers that ran through him when you slammed the door and he heard you sob over the loud thump. He then just stared at the grey wall in front of him in the parking lot.

Minutes passed and you still hadn’t heard the front door reopen, yet you didn’t go to check on Matt. You continued laying over the sheets of your bed, with your wet cheeks and tight chest, as you stared and sobbed at the doors of your wardrobe.

Matt had actually gotten in the apartment already, but he was so silent with the door that he believes not even a ghost heard him walk in.

He took off his shoes and winter jacket, hanging it by the door. He then dragged his feet from the wooden floors of his home and made his way to the bedroom door.

His hand laid over the door handle and he stopped his movements when he heard another soft sob from the other side of the door. He lifted his hand and took a step back, staring at the dark door in silence.

He made you cry and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Matthew closed his hand into a fist and let it fall to his side. He couldn’t just walk in there and act like what happened just didn’t. Right?

He brought his hand over his curls and brushed them back in frustration. His eyes drifted to the ground as he thought of a solution but nothing came to mind.

And with that, he decided to walk back to the other side of the house, to the living room, where he slept.

This morning, the first thing you did when you woke up was to quickly lay your hand over the opposite side of the bed. Cold. Your eyes opened slowly over the bright sunlight and you let out a groan.

You had a headache that was completely out of this world, almost as if you were with a hungover. But guess that’s what crying until you fall asleep gets you.

You forced yourself out of bed and quickly changed into some comfortable clothes - some shorts and one of Matt’s old shirts.

Now, when you're washing your face, as you look at yourself in the mirror, you tense up.

You didn’t hear Matthew come home, yesterday.

You, in light speed, turn off the water and dry your face with the towel. You walk out of the bathroom and bedroom and start making your way down the hallway.

The house is silent. Too silent.

As you reach the front door, you eye the hanger by it. His jacket is there, and so are his shoes, right under it. His keys are in the little platter on top of the table right at the entrance.

He’s home.

A sudden feeling of relief washes over you and you decide to make your way to the living room. And that’s where you find him. Sleeping on his side over the large couch.

You take silent steps over to him and notice the soft scowl over his features. You also notice that he didn’t change clothes, he’s still in his jeans and hoodie. Probably not very comfortable.

No matter how mad and sad you were yesterday, you didn’t want him to sleep on the couch, or even not go into the bedroom to get clothes. This room is the coldest of the apartment and the couch is only good for short naps. You can’t even imagine how much his back will hurt when he wakes up.

You walk closer to him and decide to not fight off your wishes. You crouch next to the couch and eye Matt’s sleeping form. You raise your hand and brush his curls back, away from his forehead.

He shifts slightly at your sudden touch, yet you don’t pull away. Your fingers play with the shorter hair on the sides of his head and your fingers then move to caress his temple.

No matter how much he hurt you yesterday, you still love him. You guys have known each other for years, it’s not your first fight, so, it’s not as painful as one would imagine it. At least not on the next day.

Your gaze shifts over to his phone on the side table next to the couch. You reach for it, and, yeah, still no battery. Without taking a second to think, you stand up back on your feet and go over to the charger by the TV.

While you’re connecting it to the charger, a voice breaks the silence in the room.

“What time is it?”

You quickly stand back on your feet and turn to Matthew, who is still laying down but is squinting at the light in the room.

“It’s early.” You tell me, “Probably around 9.”

He nods to let you know that he heard you and you finally force yourself to walk over to him again. Matthew opens his eyes when you stand in front of the light that was attacking him and he stares up at you in silence for just a few seconds before lifting his hand up at you. You take it hesitatingly and he pulls you closer to him. To lay with him.

Matthew turns on his side to open some space for you between him and the couch and you finally do as told. You, carefully and slowly, step over his legs on top of the couch and take a seat before finally laying.

Your faces are close to one another. Your back is glued to the couch and your chest to practically touching Matt’s, yet you don’t hesitate to look up at him.

“When did you come home?” You ask, still with your hand in his.

“Right after you did.” He tells you and you frown a bit, “I was just quiet.”

You nod understandably and feel him start to move his hand on yours. For a second you expect him to pull his hand away, but he does the opposite, he intertwines your fingers with his before letting your hands fall between you two.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He breaks the silence. “I was an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

You give him a small smile and a little shake with your head as if to dismiss whatever had happened yesterday.

“I should’ve apologized right away, but I didn’t. I’m so sorry.” He says it again.

“I forgive you, Matty. Don’t worry about it.” You tell him with a soft tone.

“I have to worry.” He tells you, “You were crying, Y/N. I said so much stupid shit. To you and your friends.”

You let go of his hand and lay yours over his cheek.

“You’re forgiven.” You tell him while looking into his worried eyes, “Just- just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” He tells you, “I promise. I’m never going to be that much of an ass ever again.”

You smile at him and look down at his lips.

You can tell just by the look he’s giving you that he’s still beating himself for it, probably feeling like his apology wasn’t good enough. He has reacted like that before, in smaller arguments, and did end up apologizing to you for more than a week straight - even though you forgave him on the second day.

Sure, his apology is not the long romantic one that leaves a girl swooning at how good he is with words or makes a heart melt, but it’s good enough for you. For all the years you’ve known him, you can tell when he’s apologizing because he needs to and when he wants to. It’s all in his tone and his expression.

He means what he says, even though it’s not much. And just in case you still have a little voice in the back of your mind telling you that you forgave him too quickly, don’t you worry, because he is not done. Expect a minimum of 20 more “I’m sorry’s” just for the rest of the hour.

“Another thing.” You start and he nods quickly, “Please don’t ever sleep on this couch again. Just go sleep on the bed.”

“I didn’t want to make you more upse-”

“You wouldn’t.” You tell him, “Believe me.”

He nods understandingly and you finally land a kiss over his lips. It’s a simple peck, but it’s one that Matthew was dying to get. It relieves some of the pressure in his overthinking mind, and he felt right away. Even if it’s just temporary, it gives him some sort of comfort.

When you pull away and give him a soft grin, his eyes stare back at you lovingly.

“I love you.” He whispers at you. “I’m sorry.”

Your grin stretches into a smile and you give him a very quick kiss.

Here we go.

“Love you too, Matty.” You tell him.

Hope this is good!! I’m kinda worried that this is too rushed but sometimes I just really don’t know how to make it better.

#Matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey

[kashimos-hajime]

pretty face on a pretty neck | b.b.

summary: they aren’t fucking dating. not fucking friends, either. no, bucky just fucks romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works. and sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

WARNINGS: a tiny bit of smut (18+), fingering, choking, swearing, drinking, brief mentions of cheating, bucky’s just really fucking jealous, mentions of a shitty relationship and self-doubt from it, the dark knight spoilers, fluffy end!! pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader, brief steve rogers x fem!reader lmaoo  word count: 5.5k

a/n: this is a cute lil piece written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​​​​​​! my prompt was “you called me, remember?” inspired by kiwi by harry styles. 

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

You weave through the crowd, glistening like some glazed dessert that he can’t wait to get his mouth on. Your lips are shining with a swipe of that sweet lipgloss he loves to suck off and you’re wearing that black dress.

The black dress. Shorter than short, showing every inch of skin yet not enough.

You toss your head back, exposing that neck that he loves to bite to Steve who grins, glad his joke landed. Stifling a scowl, Bucky grabs his scotch and throws it back, desperate not to grab you and throw you into a stall just to mark you up as his.

You had made him promise, after all. No socialization outside their little nightcap sessions that often lead to… well, Bucky’s game for anything really.

A cigarette is pinched between your lips and Steve helps you light it with a flick of his lighter, the burning embers glowing in the dark, seedy bar. Leaning on the bar counter, you talk to Sam wiping down his station and he nods, eyes dragging over your face and Bucky cannot tear his gaze away as Sam pours you three shots of vodka. You blow out a lungful of smoke, cigarette pinched between two fingers before glancing at Steve and making some sort of bet, based on the way your lips curl.

They go down like water, dripping down your chin and you laugh when Steve wipes it off your collarbones before he grabs your chin and smashes his lips against yours. You immediately reciprocate, mouth opening as he bends you over the bar, his hair golden and his hand trailing up your thigh.

“Fucker,” Bucky mutters, finally managing to rip his gaze away. A heat blazes through his stomach.

Stupid fucking party for damn Romanoff’s birthday. Sometimes he hates being some of the oldest friends that redhead knows. It makes him feel creepy, wading through a sea of college students that are only one or two years younger than him. Steve himself is finishing his last year, so he’s sure he doesn’t share Bucky’s plight of feeling old.

He wishes he could just approach you and ask to leave, pin you against the wall of his apartment, take you like he knows Steve’s going to later, but he can’t.

You aren’t fucking dating. Not fucking friends, either.

No, Bucky just fucks Romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works.

And sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

“Not enjoying yourself, James?” Birthday Girl Romanoff asks, appearing at his shoulder and he turns to her, shifting in his seat.

“Steve’s too busy chatting up your friend for me to do anything,” he replies, keeping his tone light and Romanoff glances at where Steve’s made his way to kissing up your neck, your fingers carded through his hair.

“Give him a break,” Romanoff says. “They both need to get laid.”

“You don’t think she’s getting laid?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Every fucking guy I’ve met has said they wanted to get with her at least once.”

“Sounding a bit jealous over someone you claim to hate, James,” the redhead teases, sipping on her mojito with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just saying. All the boys were saying they were into it.”

“And you?”

“She’s… a brat.”

“Seems to me that you’re into that,” she hums, leaning on his shoulder. “Honestly, it would’ve been better if you two met before her and her stupid boyfriend did. Ever since she moved in with Rumlow…” The woman trails off and Bucky absently fills in the blanks, she’s faked every single orgasm she’s had with him. “I don’t know. He’s a fucking prick. Doesn’t treat her like she deserves.”

“Does he—“

“No. Just… never a priority, is she? Why else is she here alone?” Natasha pauses, as if debating how much to tell him, then adds, “Then he gets all pissy about where she’s been. On his beck and call, isn’t she?”

“Asshole,” Bucky replies distantly. Steve has his hand basically up your dress and he watches as your legs pull him closer, your lips running along the shell of his ear. “You’re endorsing your best friend cheating on her boyfriend, you know, when we could just be beating him up”

“Hey. She said she was going to break up with him. I can’t make those choices up for her and I’m not about to land any of my friends in jail trying to be my ride or dies.” Romanoff shrugs, glancing at her friend. “Besides, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does she? It’s not like she can move into my dorm or move back into her parents across the country.” Bucky watches as you hook your legs around Steve’s waist and he hoists you into his arms, disappearing into the crowd.

By the direction, Bucky can guess the destination and some distant part of his head whispers, She could move in with me.

“Might want to avoid the bathrooms for a while,” he comments and Romanoff snorts, the ice crackling by her straw as she stirs her drained glass.

“I’m going to go get laid, too,” she replies frankly. “Don’t stay brooding in the corner, Barnesy-bear. Your face is one worthy of being sat on.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the redhead slips into the crowd and Bucky gets up, plucking his jacket and leaving the bar. His pants are tight with the thought of your mouth and the sound of your gasping breaths echoing in his ear. The feeling of your fingers scratching down his back makes him roll his shoulders back as he flags a cab.

So what if you’re fucking Steve?

It’s not like he’s exclusive with you.

He can’t fault his best friend for having excellent fucking taste.

As he enters the cab and tells the driver his address, he wonders how the fuck someone like Rumlow snagged the title as your boyfriend when there are so many other options.

Steve being one, but he’s still living on-campus.

Bucky doesn’t want to say it, but maybe he, with his own apartment and steady job and intimate knowledge of your desires and interests and needs, is the other.

.

It’s two weeks later when he finally sees you again, at Romanoff’s birthday function at the beach. Something with closer friends, in broad daylight at a beach house Romanoff’s parents own. She and Sam are already there by the time Bucky gets there, unpacking in rooms for a weekend stay.

“Take any room you like,” Romanoff calls from upstairs and Bucky does so, choosing one of the few rooms on the main floor just as another figure walks in.

“I’m here, Nat!” Your voice echoes against wooden walls as Bucky pokes his head out of his room to see you there. He doesn’t know whether he should feel guilty or not that he’s glad Steve hasn’t sated your hunger when you show up alone, shorts riding up your thighs and a t-shirt that is so sheer it does nothing to conceal the bikini top you wear beneath it. “I’m taking my usual room.”

“Fine with me!”

With that, you walk down the hall, eyes meandering over the living room and kitchen. Bucky’s throat closes up when you walk past the stairs to stop at his room and you smirk all saccharine at him.

“Hey, Barnes.”

He scans your face for a moment. “You came. Thought you’d still be sucking Steve’s face off like you were back at the bar. Or… sucking his dick. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Well, that was a one-off thing. Heat of the moment,” you dismiss, leaning against his door frame and he hates the way you look against the wood. Makes something in him stir, makes the blood run hot and his mind focus on one image in particular.

“What’d your boyfriend say when he saw your neck fucking marked up?” he asks, uncaring of the thin ice he stands upon. You frown, arms crossing.

“I was careful,” you reply tightly, “and I didn’t let him leave any marks.”

Bucky can’t help the small flash of satisfaction at hearing that. “You’re not careful with me. I like seeing your neck tatted up with it,” he comments, his hand twitching to wrap around your throat as he lifts his finger to trace the soft, pulsing vein along your neck. You tilt your chin up, eyes narrowing with amusement.

“I’m not yours, Barnes.”

“What you say tells me differently, princess.” Dropping his hand to grab your wrist, he pulls you into his room and slams the door shut, pinning you against it with a harsh push. You exhale sharply, the breath pushing out of your lungs as your bags drop with a disant thump. His senses zero in on everything about you, the light scent of the sunblock smeared into your skin, the cotton twisting beneath his fist as his other hand finds your neck on its own accord. “You’ve been distant lately, kitten.”

He can feel your racing pulse against his palm as you smirk, hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. Every inch of his skin is pressed against yours as you hike a leg up onto his hip. His hand at your waist immediately goes to cup it and you loop your arms around his neck innocently.

“I’ve had a lot of work to do. Brock and I…” You let out a soft hum as if to ponder but he knows it’s just to piss him off, “spent some time alone. Romantic trip out of town. Then, I had other things to do.”

“Did you?” It’s not a question Bucky wants answered as you nod demurely, lips twisted into a smirk. He wants nothing more than to yank your shorts down, spin you around, and have you screaming his name as he takes you again and again. He’s been blue balled for two weeks and you haven’t answered any of his calls.

Now, he knows why.

“So, that stupid boyfriend of yours was with you, huh?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he leans in close. He can taste the vodka in your mouth still, the vodka he never got to taste two weeks before in a bar, along with something fruity. Your gum, maybe, or an orange that you sucked clean off its peel. “And then what? Did you hop off after you faked your way through a few nights with him and head for Steve’s? Hm?”

“Temper, temper, James,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. His entire body is alight, every nerve shooting sensations through his limbs as your fingers curl against the nap of his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous, yeah.” His hand on your thigh trails up and inward, sneaking past the hem of your shorts as you lower your leg to hook on his calf, pulling him infinitely closer. His dick is pressing against his swim shorts, completely obvious and painfully hard against your navel as he shifts his hips just enough to let his hand sneak further up your shorts. “Why would I be jealous?”

His fingers find the silky slip of your bikini bottom and brush over the junction of your hip, smirking at the tremble he can feel course through your body.

“You wanted me that night at the bar,” you whisper as he slowly trails deeper inward. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Who didn’t, hm?” He smirks when you turn your face away, biting your lip at his fingers dancing around a spot already slickening with anticipation. “C’mon, princess. You telling me you didn’t wear that black dress for me? Look at me.”

You refuse and he rubs his thumb into the side of your neck, dipping his head to bite at your collarbones.

“Look at me, princess,” he whispers, lifting his head to see your defiant gaze meeting his. “Tell me the truth about the black dress.”

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you bite back softly, “to fuck me in.” His hand tightens, just barely around your neck and your eyes flutter shut. Oh, how badly he wants to ravage your lips, lock you in this room and just take you in every way you want…

“Trying to make me jealous, kitten?” he rasps as your hips roll against his dick and you bite your lip, chin tilting up as your nails dig into his skin. Because it worked.

“So what if I was?”

“Then, you’re going to have to pay for it.” He spins you around and moves to shove his shorts just past his hips. You let out a sharp exhale at the pressure of his hand against the back of his neck, your hands pressed flat against the door. “You got anything to say for yourself, princess?”

His swim shorts fall and he tugs your shorts down just past your ass, tracing the smooth curve of it with an arrogant curve to his lip. His lips find your neck, nipping lightly before raising to your ear.

“I asked you a question.” His hand lands on your ass, kneading it with warm, familiar fingers and his words are a warning. In the silence, he can almost hear you rolling your eyes, struggling not to moan when he feathers smooth skin, tempts you with tiny brushes between the legs.

“You gonna keep talking, Barnes, or you gonna prove a point?”

His fingers hook on your bikini bottom, pulling the elastic away with an amused grin before letting it snap back against your skin.

“I don’t know. Are you gonna continue being a fucking brat?” He squeezes your neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you almost seem to melt against the door before he drags those bikini bottoms down too. Rolling his hips flush against your ass, he smirks when you shudder and try to thrust him in with a messy jerk back. “Aw, did you miss this?”

“Wouldn’t miss a thing about you,” you reply but it comes out strangled as his other hand wraps around your hip, travels down your navel. It wraps around your waist, keeps you tight against him as you smother his wrist between the door and your hips. When his fingers find your bud, you let out a soft sigh at the pressure he begins to rub into you and he smirks, biting the shell of your ear.

“C’mon, princess. You can admit it if you like,” he murmurs. Your fingers dig into the wood as you try to push yourself—in what direction, away from his hand, towards it, Bucky doesn’t know. He reaches farther down, fingers tracing through slick heat and he chuckles huskily against your skin, biting lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “‘S that all for me?”

“Shut up,” you growl. Your eyes flash to him and he pushes you flush against the door, your head falling back against his shoulder as cock nestles itself between your cheeks. So close, not quite there. His hand on your neck travels forward, crooking inward and his fingers wrap around a silky neck from the front. He can feel every beat of your heart, the raspy whistle of your breathing. Lips falling to your exposed neck, Bucky sucks marks he knows are going to last if he doesn’t stop himself soon but two weeks has been two weeks too long— “Barnes.”

“Relax… it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper fuck.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Needy brat.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers work at a languid pace inside you. He knows every nook and cranny, every angle that brings you euphoria and he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust, arrogant smile growing when you melt back onto his shoulder, lips slightly parted.

“Don’t have time for foreplay,” you finally manage to croak and you turn to look at him, eyes surprisingly clear for having his fingers in your soaking heat and working you up a steady incline.

“It’s the fucking beach, kitten. They won’t be in a rush to get anywhere.” Your lips are tantalizing up close and he chuckles, fingers pressing gently into your pulse. “How quiet can you be?”

“Try me,” you breathe, chest heavy and eyes filling with assured focus, “bitch.”

Challenge accepted.

Nudging your legs ever so lightly apart, he is about to push in. He can feel your heart beating through your back, a quick, racing drum and your breasts heave with every anticipating breath.

“James! Y/N! Wanna meet Steve at the beach?”

Natasha’s voice breaks the humid tension like a hot knife through butter, and your eyes fly open as if you’ve risen from a trance and he growls, not quite moving yet.

To say nothing raises suspicion.

He hates it here.

“Sure!” Bucky yells back right into your ear, much to your displeasure and he shrugs, trying to repress the smirk as his hand drops and playfully squeezes your breast. You return with a subtle nip to his jaw and he steps back. Your shoulders drop and you turn around, leaning against the door with a soft, condescending smile. Your eyes are blown with a mistiness and your thighs press together as he sucks his fingers clean. Your gaze narrows, he smirks with glee.

“What was that about not being in a rush to get anywhere?” you ask, dismissively sweeping your gaze up and down his body before grabbing your pants and pulling them up. His eyes follow the slow trail of the fabric and he sighs softly between parted lips. “Play one of those audios I know you’ve got on your phone. Can’t ever get enough of me, can you, soldier boy?”

“Don’t put yourself on a pedestal, princess.”

“I’m not.” You pick up your bags and open the door, letting cool sea wind sweep into the room that was cloudy with heat and lust. He can’t help the smile that digs into his cheeks despite how disappointed he is as you shrug innocently. You play the part so well. “It’s just the facts.”

Not for the first time, Bucky is left with the thought that Rumlow doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

.

It’s near the end of the month, the very last day. The thirty-first of May.

You broke up with your stupid boyfriend three days ago. He knows because he looked at your Instagram only to find all the pictures with him gone.

But he wasn’t stalking. He was just…

Curious.

Also, Natasha FaceTimed him and Steve, ranting all about it. So, he came upon this naturally.

Not stalking at all.

“Hey.” Bucky’s lying flat on his bed, naked and the sheets are too warm as he hears you pick up with a disgruntled sigh. “You awake?”

“Am now.” You don’t sound too heartbroken but your voice is a bit thicker than he remembers as you sniff. “What do you want?”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I was crying.”

He arches an eyebrow at your blunt response but doesn’t continue that line of interrogation. “Where are you staying?”

“Why does it matter to you? What do you want?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, princess,” he replied dryly. “But if you’re on the streets, I can come pick you up.”

“I’m not on the streets,” you reply sharply in a way that makes Bucky doubt your words. “But fine. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Princess,” he begins but you cut him off.

“I just needa pack some things. See you in twenty.”

You hang up without another word. He lets his cellphone drop with a heavy sigh, sitting up and pulling on some boxers and some ratty old university hoodie.

It’s another fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on the door and he moves from the kitchen to the door, abandoning the orange juice he poured to pass the time. Swinging open the door to reveal that pretty face, he smirks to hide the concerned expression threatening to overtake his face. You look like hell, heavy eye bags and a wariness that he’s not used to seeing on your bold face. You’ve got luggage by your legs and a backpack is strapped to you as you regard him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“You called me, remember?” you reply dryly. He steps aside, inviting you in. Walking in, toeing off your sneakers, and shedding your jacket, you let your backpack drop as Bucky pulls your luggage in. “Woke me up and everything.”

“Yeah, I bet I woke you up from your beauty sleep,” he snorts and you roll your eyes as his eyes trail over the dull skin of your shoulders, the limpness of your hair. He closes the door behind him, an unfamiliar tug pulling at his stomach. “Your boyfriend didn’t even give you time to find a new place?”

“No. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Just a guy you used to fuck on occassion who couldn’t even make you come,” he says sagely and you sigh, rolling your eyes again.

“Are you describing yourself?” The words make blue eyes flash to meet yours and you smirk at the dangerous warning glimmering in his irises. Cocking your head, you shrug and lean against his dining table. “So, what do you want?”

“Why do I ever call you here if it isn’t for fucking you, huh, princess?” he muses, but even he can’t find the reason anymore. Whatever libido he was housing had melted in the time between you hanging up and you arriving at his apartment. As you stand before him, his blue eyes flicker from your exhausted face to the way your body seems strung out and on high alert. He sighs, too. “I didn’t want you in some seedy motel where the locks don’t work and the concierge is probably on the registered sex offender’s list. That sound good enough for you?”

You smile, the only thing familiar about you, and it sends a wave of relief through him. “Being nice isn’t your colour, Barnes.”

“Go take a shower,” he retorts, plucking your bag from the floor by your feet and he notices you don’t protest when he grabs your jacket and throws it in the hamper. “Then, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.” You’re unnaturally obedient as you head silently for the bathroom and he brings your luggage to the living room, setting it by the couch and laying it flat. Unzipping it quickly, he grabs the clean clothes he can find right off the bat and goes into his room to put them on his bed so you can grab them as soon as you come out. You’re standing in his bathroom, shedding your tank top and he grabs some clean towels.

It’s a strangely intimate silence as he offers you the towels and you dip your head in thanks. He can see the beginnings of a bruise on your bicep and he reaches tenderly for it, fingers barely brushing your skin.

“Did he—” The anger comes unbridled, hot and heavy and dark, in his voice and you don’t even jerk out of his touch. You’re completely relaxed in his presence as you look at your reflection in the mirror, so unlike a few minutes before when you’d been a ball of tension and you shake your head. His thumb gently digs into your skin and he can feel the pulsing heat of it. It’s fresh. Not even a day old, probably.

“No. I was walking and it was dark. Guy was coming out of a cab and didn’t see me standing there. Got whacked by the door,” you assure, pulling your arm out of his loose hold. Unbuttoning your pants, you continue to undress as he stands there, eyebrows knitting together. The air is wrought with an energy he’s unfamiliar with and he withdraws but your hand reaches for his wrist. Wide eyes dart to your face and he’s shocked by the surprisingly soft smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Hungry?”

You let go of his wrist and his skin is tingling. He rubs at it absently as you nod, your strange smile ever present. “Starving.”

“I’ll whip you something to eat.”

As he’s stirring Kraft Dinner around in a bowl, he listens to the shower run and thinks.

Or doesn’t think.

Time seems to pass in such a strange way. He’s cooking for you and you’re in his shower and nothing about this is normal or something he’s used to, but it’s not something he hates.

The shower turns off just as he’s sliding the mac into a bowl and he pours you a glass of water before finishing his own abandoned cup of orange juice.

Your footfalls are light and you smell like his shampoo as you sit down at his kitchen island, clad in the clothes he laid out for you.

“It’s just some Kraft I had lying around,” he says uneasily, pushing the bowl towards you but you take it anyway with a shrug and a easygoing smile. You look more awake after the shower and colour has worked its way back into your lips. There’s new life in your eyes as you eat and Bucky, satisfied, heads for the couch just to watch whatever’s on until you’re done.

Everything seems so strange, mundane, almost… domestic as you eat, scroll your phone, and he watches The Dark Knight just because it’s on. He watches the movie blindly, his mind still going a mile a minute and his body unintentionally becoming attune to yours in a way he only knows with when he’s fucking you.

But now, he knows how you move, knows when you’re putting your bowl in the sink and knows when you’re walking towards him by the way his heart starts beating just a millisecond quicker, the gentle give of his couch as you sit down beside him. Your eyes burn into his cheek and he glances at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Come here,” he allows, lifting his arm from the pillow and you scoot closer, pulling the pillow into your lap and hugging it tight. He rests his arm along the back of the couch. “You didn’t die of food poisoning. Pity.”

“You’d have to be truly something to fuck up Kraft Dinner, Barnes,” you reply dryly, smirking at him and he suppresses a snort as you tuck your knees up. “It was good. Although, I hope you’re not living off of that stuff.”

“I do take out every once in a while,” he says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a college student and I can cook better than you.”

“You’re one year younger than me. We’re not so different.”

“Whatever you say.”

Bucky can’t help the amused smile edging its way onto his face as you fall into silence, watching the movie, too. One thing Bucky’s always liked about you, even if he didn’t like anything else, is that you share a lot of the same interests as him. They had whole rants on how terrible some movies were, or the disappointment that was some TV finales. It always made pillow talk a fun time, if they ever made it to that stage. 

It was more often than not either of them would wake up before the other and just head out without a single word.

Bucky finds he likes your companionable silence more than he thought he would. Maybe he should’ve indulged pillowtalk a bit more. By the small, sated smile on your lips, he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

“You know,” you say after a while, “when I said at the beach house that you wanted me…” Your voice rouses Bucky from his trance of staring at the TV. The credits are rolling and he hadn’t even realized. So lost in his thoughts he was near the end, thinking about Rachel’s letter to Bruce and hyper aware of your every shift in your seat beside him, the movie seemed to pass by in a blink.

Something about the long lost melancholy of lost chances…

Bucky’s never been fucking sentimental, but even he can see the chance that Bruce Wayne really… really missed out on, and the blue-eyed man doesn’t want to be in that position ever. To do the right thing only to find out it’s too late. Because she died in the end, didn’t she? She died and he was alone even though he tried…

“What?”

“At the beach house,” you repeat. “When I basically told you that you wanted me…” you say with a roll of your eyes, “it was just teasing, foreplay.” Then, more seriously: “But I guess I was being like Two-Face. Double entendres, innuendos, all that.”

“You’re going to become a vengeful, homicidal DA?” he quips wryly and you huff in faux irritation, poking him lightly in the chest.

“No. God, use that brain inside that pretty little head of yours for once.”

“Aw, you called me pretty.”

“Barnes.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“Well, what I was saying… When I said you wanted me… God, this is stupid. Feel free to just punch me in the face after, but…”

“But?” Eyebrows knitting together, he looks at you and you pull the blanket up to your face, embarrassment telltale in the way you avert your eyes. He gently pushes the blanket down, muting the TV and waiting patiently. You look more alive that you did the first minute you walked into your apartment and you look like you want to bury yourself in the blankets but he’s not going anywhere and you stare at him, lips pressed into a flustered line. “I’m not going to punch you in the face. You can just tell me.”

“I guess… I just... I wanted to believe that you wanted me,” you state, shaking your head, “for me. Like some affirmation that there’s a possibility you could ever want me like that, and… I’m being dumb. I swear I’m not usually like this, all sentimental and shit, but it’s just I feel like shit and you don’t care about any of that and Brock… I broke up with him because I know he doesn’t love me even if he says he does and that I deserve better but I just… it gets to me, you know? It fucking gets to me when I’m all alone and now I am alone and if he didn’t put me first... maybe it’s because I’m not wanted.”

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, reaching for your hands and you surrender to him easily as he cranes his head to keep your eye contact despite you ducking your head. “I don’t judge you for any of that shit and that’s wrong. He’s a fucking prick, and people want you here. Romanoff, Steve, Sam…” Me.

“I know. I know and I just… I’m scared because I have nowhere to go. And, you’re always honest with me, and just slap me in the face because… I can’t believe I’m asking you this what if… what if everyone’s gonna treat me like Brock did? What if no one will ever really want me?

There’s a beat.

Then, two.

He’s squeezing your hands so hard he’s surprised you haven’t drawn away but then he realizes your fingers are clutching onto him even tighter, his bones wincing as you crush his digits.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid—”

“No, you’re not.” Bucky shakes his head and you—fourth year college student and someone he shouldn’t be attached to because you two are so different but he is because you two are so alike—are something else. No one has gotten under his skin like you have.

You’re not fucking stupid. Because I do want you. In a way. In more than one way. And you are irritating and burn so fucking bright and you’re fucking bold, but—

I want you.

He doesn’t say any of that.

And it’s complicated, but that’s how the universe fucking works.

“You’re free to stay here for however long you need to,” he tells you quietly, seriously. “I don’t care how long it is, and there are no catches. Just… just don’t give that fucker another chance, yeah? ‘Cause there’s always gonna be someone who wants you, kitten. Someone who’ll treat you right.”

You smile faintly, knees tucked to your chest and hair still a bit damp from your shower. You’re warm, soft, with no cigarette smoke clouding your silhouette and no glossy sheen of alcohol. You look like you in a way Bucky’s never known before.

He thinks this beats you in any kind of black dress.

“Okay,” you accept and you lean over first to kiss him. It’s a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, an innocent, flitting thing, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He eases against the couch and you lean against his chest, cuddling close against him. His arm falls around your shoulders, holding you tight to him and you melt against him just like he does around you.

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

#fic: pretty face on a pretty neck #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader smut #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x yn #ldamc #my writing #bucky barnes smut

[mellowyandere]

One Hell of a Logical Ruse Part 2

Reader: F

Characters: Toshinori Yagi (All Might)

Summary: Toshinori's anxiety over your absence quickly gave way to anger as he tired of your attitude. His own version of a punishment was in order.

Length: 6.7k

Warnings: non-con spanking, yandere themes, bathing, non-con, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size kink.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Based off the pre-established fic You’re Ours to Protect. 

Toshinori and Hizashi were pacing the kitchen, phones in hand as they tried to get Shouta to respond. You had been missing for upwards of six hours now and the pros were on the verge of losing it. Their sleepy counterpart had stated he wouldn't need the two blonds help, but try as they might they couldn't help the anxiety clawing away at their minds.

"Fuck Toshi what if she got hurt? I know she's capable 'n all but the woods! There's god knows what out there!" The smaller blond was vibrating he was so wound up, the mental image of bugs crawling all over you and coyotes tearing you to pieces sending him into a panic.

All Might's anxieties were a bit more practical, imagining you finding your way to the road and trying to hitch hike away from them. What if a villain found you and hurt you? Nowhere was safer than home with them.

"Shouta is fully capable of finding her, any minute now and he'll give me a call..." The words were meant to bring Hizashi comfort, but he was struggling to convince himself as well. His phone was clutched in his large hand, its silence on the verge of killing him.

When it finally rang he almost threw it across the room as he fumbled it. Slamming the answer button he brought the phone to his ear.

"Where is she, is she hurt, is she alright?"

"Calm down she's fine. Dirty and upset, but otherwise relatively unharmed."

Hizashi bounded over, ears perked so he could listen in on the conversation. His perfectly aligned teeth worried his bottom lip at his husbands word choice of relatively. So he was a bit rough on recovery.

"I'll send you our coordinates, she managed to get pretty far into the endless forest. Good thing that contact of yours set up this quirk or else she would have reached the main road hours ago."

Toshinori heard your disgruntled yelling in the background at Shouta's newest revelation before the line went dead. His phone pinged and he made a mental note of where the two of you were. Taking a deep breath he puffed up his chest, taking on his more muscular appearance before running out the front door.

-----

An endless forest. Go figures. From what you could tell the further you wandered into the woods the deeper they actually became. You weren't exactly sure how they got in and out the house around the quirk, but the path you took was clearly not it.

You were currently sitting on the ground, back to Shouta as you simmered. Now that he was no longer plastered on top of you your anger was rekindled. You could feel his eyes burning holes into you, but you were far too pissed off to acknowledge him. It was a good thing he seemed to know when to leave you be, not bothering with conversation after fucking you into the forest floor.

The only thing he'd done since violating you was get his capture weapon, dragging you along so he didn't lose sight of you again.

Your head was still pounding from when you had hit the ground earlier. Combining that with how filthy you were and Shouta's cooling cum on your inner thighs, and you feel like absolute shit.

The sound of a loud thud behind you caused you to flinch. You didn't have it in you to turn around and face the number one hero right now, not sure if you would be able to handle whatever expression was on his face.

"Oh goodness, Shouta she's a mess what did you do?"

The dark haired man simply huffed in response, eyes rolling at the number ones concern.

"Just get us home, she needs a bath."

You hated when they talked about you like you weren't there, as if you were just some pet or child instead of your own autonomous person.

All Mights heavy footsteps approached you, stopping just shy of touching you. When you made no move to acknowledge his presence he sighed deeply, tutting at your behavior, before scooping you up bridal style. You closed your eyes to avoid looking at him, turning away from his broad chest.

"Shouta you can just grip around my neck from behind, it will only take a couple minutes to get back."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at his words. He had covered what took you six hours in mere minutes.

As soon as Eraserhead had confirmed himself secure All Might took off. Wind rushed passed you as he soared high above the canopy. You peeked your eyes open, trying desperately to see where the forest ended, but much to your dismay the nearest city looked to be hundreds of miles away, and any possible roads were obscured by trees.

"Take a good look Y/N," Toshinori murmured to you, voice rumbling against your ear. He didn't need to say more, you understood him loud and clear. Escape won't be possible, even if you get out you can't outrun me, and even if you hide it's only a matter of time before we find you. Your tears of frustration fell more freely now. Way to rub salt in the wound.

When you landed a minute or so later Shouta wasted no time in dropping off the giant while Toshinori quickly brought you inside. Hizashi greeted you at the front door, a strange mixture of relief, anger and disappointment swirling in his emerald eyes.

"Oh no baby look at yah. I got the water runnin' in the master bath in your room Toshi come on lets get her clean." Toshinori followed Hizashi upstairs, refusing to put you down. You all trailed through his bedroom, simplistic design leaving the space void of personality, until you ended up in his bathroom. The room was large, to accommodate the size of its owner, with white marble tiles on the floor, accompanied by white walls and white appliances, giving the room a sterile feeling.

"Hizashi, Shouta, I'll take care of her for now." You had expected a bit of protest from Hizashi but he merely walked out with a sad nod.

"Take it easy on her okay, it's partially my fault she got out..." Shouta mumbled, following his husband out of the bathroom. The door closed with a soft click and for the first time since coming into this house you found yourself alone with All Might. He was normally so busy you barely ever saw him, but now here he was, gently lowering you to the floor.

He stepped away from you, running his hand under the large free standing tubs faucet to test the water temperature. Hizashi had left everything he'd need to clean you up, towel and spare clothes included.

"Go ahead and strip." His voice was colder than normal, an edge to it that filled you with unease. Turning to finally look at him you sucked in your breath. His eyes were fixated on you, searing you with a look that was equal parts disappointment and wounded. He was still in his muscular form, kneeling impatiently beside the bath.

Heat rushed to your face as you slowly began to peel off your filthy clothes, until you were standing in front of him in your bra and underwear. He quirked an eyebrow at you as his frowned deepened.

"All of it." Anger and fear mixed dangerously in your mind as you glared at him.

"I can clean myself."

"I don't recall asking if you could. Strip, now."

When you made no move to comply he threw his head back in exasperation, heaving a large sigh before standing to his full height.

"I have had enough of your behavior young lady. I understand your frustration with us, but we're doing this for your own good. Would you really rather waste away in prison?"

"I'd rather you assholes just kill me already or something, this whole playing pet thing is really starting to piss me off!" His face dropped, teeth grinding against one another as his mind processed what you said. You had no idea how villains got the nerve to fight him, right now it was taking everything inside you to not back down and apologize.

"Kill you? Are you serious right now!" He stomped up to you, frame looming over you threateningly as his eyes blazed with fury.

Swallowing hard you steeled your nerves, you had nothing left to lose so might as well give him a piece of your mind.

"I was perfectly fine before you fuckers brought me here! I don't need you! The fact that you had to prevent me from using my quirk is proof enough that I don't need you! Sure I might not have had much, but it was mine! My life to own and do whatever the hell I wanted with, not yours to take!"

"The moment you decided killing people was the only way to solve your problems was the moment you lost the rights to your life. As heroes in this world, and enforcers of justice, you are sentenced to our care. Now stop arguing with me and strip."

Puffing out your chest you narrowed your tear stained eyes and fixed him with the nastiest look you could muster. "Fuck. You."

In that moment you saw something inside him snap. Mouth pulled tight in a terrifying scowl, he had you maneuvered faster than you could comprehend. One moment you had been standing in front of him, the next you were strewn over his lap, facing the floor.

You yelled out in anger, clawing at his calves through his cargo pants. You knew what would be coming next, but your brain didn't want to slow down to think about how humiliating it was about to be.

"If you want to act like a child then you'll be punished like one. Count. One for every hour you were gone. Be grateful it's not more."

"Let go of me you fucking assho- aH!"

His large hand made contact with your clothed ass, the slap muffled by the sound of running water.

"Count."

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, tears leaving trails as they washed the dirt down your face. You waited with bated breath, the stinging on your ass for now was bearable enough.

"Y/N, you will count on this next one or I will double your punishment. I'm done playing games with you."

You tensed on the expanse of his massive thighs. You didn't want to count, didn't want to give in, but deep down you knew you'd never win.

His hand came down again with another resounding smack right on top of the first hit. You let out a sob from the impact, choking out a soft "one" as your self preservation instincts kicked your ego to the curb.

"Good, only five more to go."

Your head hung in shame as you waited for your punishment to end, jolting and squeaking out numbers every time he made contact with your burning flesh. To his credit he applied the same level of force with each hit, but every time he made contact the intensity of your burn increased until finally you cried out a broken "six".

You felt so pathetic, strewn across All Mights lap. You used to be so independent, never did you imagine this would be your fate. What happened to your self confidence? The fire inside of you that pushed you to rid the world of villains felt smoldered. Doused by the degrading nature of your stay with the three pro heroes.

It made you want to curl up in a ball and cry until your head pounded from exhaustion. Today was simply getting to be too much for you to mentally handle. From your failed escape attempt, your pathetic attempt at self defense against Shouta, learning running was a pointless waste of your time, to now getting a spanking like a fucking child from All Might himself. The list of losses just kept adding up, and none of them were in your favor.

You were openly sobbing, and the fact that you were crying was pissing you off even more, making for a horrible cycle where you simply cried harder. Toshinori gently moved you around in his hold until he had you clutched to his chest, gently shushing you as you clung to him. Despite how wrong it was you found comfort in Toshinori as he rubbed soft circles into your back, grasping small handfuls of his t-shirt as you stained the white fabric with tears and dirt.

"Everything is going to be okay, I know you've had a bad day and being locked up isn't easy for you. Just give it some time Y/N and you'll see that things here aren't so bad with us. We're here for you, and we're never going to tire of you, even with that stubborn attitude of yours."

Toshinori waited patiently for your sobbing to turn into soft hiccups before peeling you off of him. He removed what little clothes you had left and then lowered you into the tub. The drain was unplugged since you were still filthy, and sitting you in a full tub of water would murky up the clean bath.

Grabbing a large cup Toshinori filled it and poured water over your naked body. You watched with unfocused and puffy eyes as the proof of your failed escape attempt swirled down the drain. Only when the water finally ran clear did Toshinori put the plug in. The lulling warmth progressively crept higher up your body, your head bobbing as you grew sleepy. Toshinori turned the water off once the water had reached your chest, leaving it a good bit from the lip of the tub.

You heard the rustling of clothes but paid the source no mind. You didn't so much as react when the now naked hero stepped into the bath, shimmying down until you were surrounded by him. The water level rose drastically with the addition of the 560 pound man. His thick thighs were splayed on either side of you, solid abdominal muscles pressed into your back.

You heard the pop of a bottle before two large hands gently began to lather your skin in body wash.

"I'm not sure how you like your hair cleaned princess. Whenever women find out I use two in one shampoo they give me a look like I kicked a puppy so I'll just leave that to you for another time." He chuckled softly as he spoke, massaging the tightness out of your shoulders before moving down to your arms.

He spoke so casually, as if all his anger from earlier evaporated with the ending of your punishment. You found yourself grateful that he moved on so quickly instead of lingering on your emotional degradation.

You felt his cock stir a bit as he came back to your chest, cupping them and working the soap onto your skin with more attention than he'd shown your shoulders. You stiffened a bit, but since he made no further move to grind himself against you, you remained in his hold.

"I'm sorry for being rough with you, I'd much rather do something relaxing like this than bring you pain." He pulled you until your head was laying on the expanse of his chest, the deep pounding of his heart mingling with the ringing in your ears. It was almost relaxing, minus the growing erection pressed against your lower back.

Reluctantly his hands left your breast, moving further down your body. He rubbed the soft expanse of your stomach, humming happily at your lack of resistance to him. Only when his hands drifted further did you begin to stir a bit.

"Now young lady I need to make sure all of you is cleaned up okay? You're behaving yourself so well I'd really hate to ruin the moment."

"No, no. Please. Just this one thing.."

His hands paused. He hated how broken you sounded right now. Pulling back he raised his arms outside the tub and rested them along the edges. You relaxed a bit as he retreated.

"Alright Y/N, do you need any soap?"

Sighing softly in relief, you were glad that he was willing to give you this. It almost made you feel human again.

"Nah, it's not healthy to use soap down there."

Toshinori merely hummed in acknowledgement, sliding further into the bath and pushing you along with him as he got comfortable.

You cleaned your core gently, it was still a bit sore from what Shouta had done earlier to you. Only once you deemed yourself spotless did you get soap to lather on the parts of you Toshinori had not gotten to. Speaking of, his breathing had gotten a lot deeper. You peaked back at him noticing his head uncomfortably resting against the tub as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Peering down his naked body you couldn't help but gasp softly as you took note of the large injury covering part of his abdomen. You turned towards him, sending ripples through the water as you cautiously brought your hand to the deep scar. You knew that All Might had been injured enough to force him into a smaller form, but seeing the injury first hand was something else entirely. Who on earth had been able to hurt this titan of a man?

You hadn't realized Toshinori had woken up until his large hand gently covered your own. Meeting his soft gaze you were taken aback by his sad smile.

"The man who did this to me, some say it would be best if I just killed him already. But that's not what heroes do, that's not what Nana would do."

Taking hold of your body Toshinori moved you until he had you straddling the smallest part of his waist. Since you were both completely naked you kept your eyes trained on his injury, heat rushing to your cheeks at the intimacy of the position. His hands rose from the water, gently cupping your face and drawing your gaze to his own.

"When I look at you sometimes I can see her. Your strong will, your intelligence, how beautiful you are... but you're not the same person. Not in a bad way, no you are unique. Your own individual, and someone who I've come to love, even if you don't feel the same way."

His blue orbs were hypnotizing, almost as if he believed if he tried hard enough your own glassy orbs would mirror his loving gaze, or perhaps he'd see it hidden in the depths of your irises.

This moment was far too intimate and personal for your comfort, it was so different than anything any of the men had done before. In a way you almost preferred when they failed to acknowledge you as an equal, it made it easier to hate them. But right now, sitting in the warm bath atop Toshinori, you could feel your resolve slipping.

You didn't want to bring attention to his confession so you decided to try and divert the subject.

"Who's Nana?" You had never heard of her before, not even in tabloids referring to All Might. Toshinori's hands froze on your face, eyes scrunching up as he contemplated on how he wanted to answer.

"Nana... Nana was my mentor. Though calling her that doesn't feel right, she was more like a mother to me. She's the reason I am who I am. Without her I'd be nothing."

Past tense, he was using a lot of past tense. It didn't take a genius to interpret why. His forlorn expression filled in the gaps, so you didn't bother to ask what had become of her. He saw you in the same light he saw this woman?

"Y/N, will you sleep with me tonight?"

Taking note of your hesitation he continued speaking before you could voice any protests.

"Coming home and realizing you were gone.. I was so worried, so afraid I'd never see you again. That you'd be taken away from me, and I don't know if I can handle losing you. I've lost so many people that I cared deeply about, I refuse to lose you too."

How in the ever loving fuck were you supposed to refuse him now. Even though you were still mad at him from his earlier form of punishment you couldn't find it in you to hurt him right now.

"Yeah that's fine, but just tonight. You probably put off a ridiculous amount of heat or snore or something..."

Toshinori flashed you his signature smile before bellowing out a laugh. The water rippled and your body jostled along with his hearty chuckle.

"Me? Snore? No, it'll be the coughing that might get to you haha-ack"

Pain flashed across his face before you felt his body rapidly shrink beneath you with a large puff of smoke. He scrambled upright, causing you to fall against him as he hacked out a lung. You awkwardly placed your hand on his back and rubbed small circles as one of his arms gripped you tightly for balance.

"So-sorry I think I was in my muscular form for too long."

He looked a bit sheepish, using the back of his forearm to wipe off some blood that had dribbled down his chin. You merely sat there, doing your best to look anywhere but him as he collected himself.

"The water's getting cold, come on let's get out princess."

You stood up first, awkwardly stepping over his legs and out of the tub. You were a bit embarrassed that he kept his eyes trained on you the whole time while his hands hovered to ensure your safety. A pile of large fluffy towels were set to the side of the tub on a stool. Grabbing the one on top you began the process of drying off.

You heard the sloshing of water as Toshinori stood up, followed by the sound of the plug being pulled and water draining. Looking over it amazed you that even in his smaller form he was was still intimidating. Wiry muscles clung tight to his frame, the angles of his face casting shadows across his eyes. Stepping out he grabbed a towel and proceeded to dry himself off as well.

"Hizashi left you some clothes it would seem... though they look a bit uncomfortable. You can borrow a spare shirt of mine, I also have a spare toothbrush on the top right hand draw of the counter if you want to hide out in my room tonight."

You very much wanted to avoid Hizashi, not sure if you could handle whatever he'd have in store for you right now. Out of three men here, he made you the most nervous. Even now, as you held the scandalous lingerie up to the light you knew he was still going to want his share of punishment.

"I'll take your shirt offer, as well as the hiding out offer. I don't think I can handle him tonight."

Toshinori hummed in acknowledgement before heading to his bedroom and shuffling about before reappearing with one of his large white t-shirts. He had on boxers now, which he must have bought specifically for his smaller form because they hugged all of him rather snugly. Tossing the shirt your way he meandered about the bathroom, preparing for sleep.

You both finished around the same time, leaving you to awkwardly shuffle towards his gigantic bed. He followed behind you, large hand on the small of your back to encourage you onwards.

You wanted him to sleep on the other side of the bed but weren't sure exactly how to voice your desire, especially when he followed so closely behind you. Pulling back the sheets you slid under the cool covers, and yet again Toshinori somehow found a way to leave you with no space.

After turning off the bedside lamp his long limbs quickly ensnared you, pulling you close and tucking you into his embrace. He was warm, but not unpleasantly hot.

Just for tonight. You'd give him this just for tonight. You were also beyond exhausted, your limbs heavy as you sunk into his ridiculously comfortable mattress. Your mind, which had been drifting off ever since the bath, finally dipped into unconsciousness. Your soft breathing filled the air as Toshinori watched you finally succumb to slumber. Smiling softly he lovingly stroked your cheek, planting a kiss to your forehead before giving in himself.

-----

Waking with a jolt you were thrown off by limbs harshly clutching your body. It took you a moment to remember that you weren't in your own bedroom, meaning Toshinori was currently holding you like his life depended on it.

The room was pitch black so you had no idea what time it was, but figured it was still way to early to be awake. His grip on your body was borderline painful causing you to groan out in sleepy annoyance.

"Toshinori, damnit, wake up. You're squeezing me too tight," you grumbled, wiggling a bit to try and jostle him awake. He was murmuring in his sleep, deep voice grumbling against you with the way he had you pressed against his chest.

"D-don't go... no no. I am here... please."

His body was trembling, caught in a nightmare that you couldn't see.

You raised your voice a bit, trying harder to wake him up but he still wouldn't release his grip on you. Only when you accidentally elbowed him did he finally react to you.

With a harsh gasp he threw himself on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. His blue eyes were a wild blaze, messy blond hair framing his angular face. His long bangs were plastered to his forehead from sweat, lungs heaving to swallow air.

"Y/N?"

He looked so lost, eyes clouded with tears as his brain finally registered he was no longer trapped in his own personal hell. Groaning out in discomfort he lowered his body on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, trying to ground himself.

"Ah, I'm- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up... fuck." Moving down he rested his head against your chest, as if he needed to hear your heart beating beneath him in order to assure himself you were really here.

All you could find it in yourself to do was sigh in exhaustion, body going limp as you relaxed beneath him. It was a good thing he was in his smaller form, since he wasn't attempting to keep any of his weight off of you. You closed your eyes, not quite ready to ask him what his nightmare had been about.

He sniffled softly into your chest, arms unwinding from your waist to gently rub against your exposed flesh. His shirt had drifted up your body, leaving your stomach and lower half exposed.

"May I, may I touch you please?"

"You already are..."

"Oh, uh- yeah it would seem I am. Could I touch you, um down here?" His hand trailed down, knuckles softly brushing against your bare thighs.

You cracked your eyes open to look down at him, his own glowing orbs pleading up to you.

"Toshinori can we just go back to sleep? Please?"

Biting his bottom lip his hand continued to drift closer to your naked core, eyes averting from your own as he thought about what he was going to do next.

"I know I'm not around as much as Hizashi and Shouta but gosh I just- I need to feel you right now. The way they talk about you, how perfect you feel, I need you."

"I-I'd rather we just sleep, Hizashi is still mad at me an-"

Toshinori slid up your body, silencing your protests with a kiss. His hand slid up all the way, using his own thigh as leverage to keep you from closing yours.

His tongue delved into your mouth, fingers finally meeting your outer folds. You struggled beneath him, breaking the kiss.

"Toshinori please, I just want to sleep." In reality you were scared. You had seen his length before, and you'd be a liar if you said it didn't intimidate you. That coupled with the fact that tonight had been going semi-well with the pro, him finally having his share of you would cement your fate in this house even further. His fingers had paused, body still as he took you in below him.

"You don't have to do a thing then princess, I'll take care of everything. Just lay back and relax I promise I'll make you feel good."

"To-Toshinori please, I just want to sleep," you looked deep into his eyes as you pleaded with him, hoping somehow you could find the part of him that knew this was wrong. He gave you a sad smile, his eyes still a bit glassy from his nightmare.

"Just think of this as the last of your punishment then. I still don't think you realize just how terrified I was when I came home to an empty house."

You shook your head, sniffling a bit as tears formed. You tried to push him off but he merely took one large hand and easily secured both of your wrists above your head. His other hand resumed ever so gently teasing you, working on getting you aroused.

"Just lay back and relax alright, then we can go back to sleep. I just-I just need to feel you right now. Need to make sure you're really here."

You worked your bottom lip with you teeth, eyes closed so you no longer had to look at him. His thumb trailed up to press light circles against your clit while his middle finger began to delve a bit deeper, teasing your sore hole. Your body had gone slack, tired of the fact that this was just another situation in which your powerlessness was painfully on display. You didn't have it in you mentally to put up a fight.

Toshinori moved his slim hips until his clothed cock was pressed against your right thigh, rutting against you while he worked you open. He gave a gentle peck to your forehead before trailing kisses down your face to your mouth. He captured your lips with his own, freeing your bottom lip from your teeth and moaning into your unwilling mouth.

You didn't work with him, not giving him the satisfaction of your consent, but he wasn't deterred. He simply moved down, back arching as he made his way to your chest. His erection left your thigh as he finally settled on his stomach between your legs, allowing him to comfortably take your right nipple into his hot mouth.

He nipped at the sensitive bud, long finger pushing into you at the same time while he continued to work your clit. His movements were slow as he savored every moment, sleepy mind basking in the warmth of your body.

You tried to drift back to sleep, thinking that perhaps in the emptiness of unconsciousness you could avoid your punishment, but Toshinori was surprisingly very skilled when it came to manipulating your body. You shuddered beneath him when he gave a particularly hard suck to your breast, his lean digit rubbing against the spongy spot on your inner walls that had you clamping down on him in return.

His pace was torture, just on the cusp of bringing you satisfaction, but he seemed plenty content with dragging this out. You wiggled below him in annoyance, attempting to grind down against his hand in anger and desperation. If he was going to force himself on you then the least he could do was not torment you about it.

With a soft sigh Toshinori released your nipple from his mouth, a small trail of spit connected to his lips. Opening your eyes you glared down at him, while his eyelids were hooded in an amorous gaze.

"Tell me what you need me to do for you princess."

"Let me sleep."

Toshinori gave a sleepy chuckle before peppering your chest with lazy kisses.

"You're more than welcome to try."

Resting his head against your chest he continued to pump his finger excruciatingly slow, easily pushing all the way in to his knuckle, thanks to how wet you had become, before dragging out with a languid come hither motion against your sensitive walls.

You could feel your heart accelerate as he lazily stroked pleasure into your slack body. The way in which you velvety walls clamped down on him far too telling of his skill. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn't so damn good at this. In some sick and twisted way though, his loving movements quelled the rage inside you.

Did you want this? Tears slipped down your face as you realized that some fucked up part of you just might. Toshinori hummed softly into your flesh while he lazily worked you closer to your climax, the endorphins flooding your brain working to wash away your inner turmoil. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit while he nipped and sucked on whatever flesh he could reach.

Once he realized you were close to finishing he simply added another finger, stretching and wiggling the two digits to help open you up. You moaned softly at the intrusion, hips bucking as you gave in to him. It didn't take him much longer to finally push you over the edge, but he didn't stop like you had hoped. Adding a third digit you inhaled sharply at the burning sensation, stretched walls still spasming from your orgasm.

"I'll make sure you're ready, don't worry about a thing. Just a little bit more, you're tight but I'll fit."

"It- you won't fit, please you know you won't."

As if to prove you wrong he pushed a bit harder then you were prepared for, burying three of his fingers knuckle deep and forcing a pained whine from your throat. He began to move, getting on his knees and arching his body over your own while continuing to stroke your now sensitive and stinging cunt.

"As I said earlier, just think of this as the ending to your punishment."

"But Hizashi hasn't-" Toshinori cut you off with a pointed look.

"That's not my fault now is it?" You cringed away from him, his cold tone from earlier in the night caused your chest to tighten in fear.

He sighed lowly at your frightened expression, before giving you a small smile and another gentle peck to your forehead.

"Just lay back and relax alright?" He gave your captured wrists a light squeeze as he spoke, large frame hovering over you as he continued to scissor his fingers inside you. The burning sensation from being stretched out began to subside as the familiar warmth of pleasure took hold of you once more.

"There we go, just like that. The more you relax the easier this will be I promise."

Finally pulling his devilish hand away from your soaked pussy he made quick work of shimmying out of his underwear, long cock springing free. The tip was red with a good bit of pre-cum dripping down his intimidating length, some getting lost in his neatly trimmed curly blond pubic hair.

You had flashbacks to the first time you saw it, a bit relieved that in his smaller form he lost a bit of girth. But holy shit if this 7 foot 2 inch giant of a man wasn't packing heat.

Heat flushed Toshinori's face as he watched you take him in. He knew his size could be a bit alarming, which is why he was well versed in the art of foreplay.

Bringing himself down on top of you he lined his tip up with your entrance, free hand helping to guide himself in. You could feel him, gently rubbing himself on your outer lips to gather your slick. His raspy breaths ghosted across the hot expanse of your face, while he closed his eyes, letting out a low groan as he began to push in.

"Sh-shit yes, just like that, ah fuck it'll be a tight fit."

You whined as he began to work on sinking into you, his hand leaving his cock in favor of gently wrapping around your throat.

Despite his best efforts his fingers hadn't been enough preparation when compared to his cock. Gasping in pain you thrashed beneath him. He shushed you gently, fingers stroking your throat delicately as he speared you open. Little by little he rocked his hips into you, holding you down while you cried out in pain.

"So good, you're doing so good. The worst is over okay princess hold out for me."

You hardly knew what he meant by worst part when it felt like he was never going to bottom out. He brought his face down beside yours, huffing and groaning into your ear until finally he was flush with you, cock buried to the hilt. You were breathing hard, small whines and whimpers slipping past your lips at how he stretched you.

"Oh shit. You- you're fucking perfect."

"Too much, it's too much plea-" much to your frustration his mouth met your own again in order to cut off your protests. He pressed your head into the pillow to try and prevent you from pulling away from him again, hungrily following your escape attempts. The hand he had around your throat receded, only to snake its way between the two of you so he could continue teasing your sensitive clit.

His hips began to move again, assuming he had given you plenty of time to adjust based off the way your pussy clenched around him as if begging for more.

He starting off with the same tempo he had been doing for the majority of the night, so slow it was as if he was teasing you. But as the burning sensation in your poor cunt eased you realized he was doing it for your benefit. He wanted you to enjoy this, needed you to find pleasure and comfort in him. After all this was your first time with him, he wanted to make sure you weren't afraid when he came back for more.

As your whimpers subsided, replaced with hushed moans, only then did Toshinori begin to pick up the pace. Finally he released your mouth from his kiss, both of you gasping for air. He showered you with praise as he fucked into you, deep gravely voice never letting you forget just how much he cared for you.

For your part all you could do was submit to him, letting his deft finger and cock bring you back to the brink of orgasm. Your warm walls fluttered around him as he took you closer and closer, the resounding slap of flesh on flesh filling the room as he lost himself in his own pleasure. He was grounded only long enough to see you through, but as soon as you began to convulse around him, hips bucking and pretty mouth moaning obscenely, his mind blanked out.

He abandoned your clit, hand coming up to join the other and thread his fingers through your own. He hammered into you, painfully drawing out your orgasm as he chased his own climax. The juxtapose of him lovingly holding your hands to his feral thrusts was giving you mental whiplash.

"Yes, yes fuck. So good for me, don't ever leave me again. Shit - fuck I can't lose anyone else."

His thrusts were erratic, your whole body forced to move against his. You had assumed he would cum in you, just as Hizashi and Shouta had already done, but right before he finished he pulled out quickly. Pressing the head of his cock into your skin, hot thick surges of cum covered your stomach. The excess quickly began to drip down the side of your body, mingling with your sweat on the sheets below.

Coming down from his high, his hands were still intertwined with your own, skinny body heaving from exertion. For your part your heart rate had mostly settled after your second orgasm, leaving you effectively spent under him.

You had managed to keep your eyes closed while he had fucked you, only now opening them to find him observing you fondly. Releasing his hold on you he leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed a spare handkerchief, using it to wipe off his cooling cum.

Only when he deemed you properly spotless did he toss the cloth to the floor and flop down in the bed beside you. Drawing your weary body against him he folded around you, capturing you once more in his unrelenting grip.

"I know you haven't been here very long, but I can't help but love you so much it hurts. I'll be good to you if you're good to me okay?"

A meager "m-kay" was all you had it in you to respond with, but it was all the man wanted to hear. With a satisfied hum Toshinori pecked your forehead with one last kiss before you both succumbed to sleep.

#tw: noncon #yandere toshinori yagi #yandere all might #yandere x reader #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia

[1kook]

dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol  misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart. 

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jimin smut #park jimin smut #pjm #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x reader smut #park jimin x reader #park jimin x reader smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #mine

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #Dabi #mha smut #mha x reader #tw: noncon #tw: pain play

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Six

CW: NSFW, language

Part Five//Part Seven//Masterlist//2634 words

Aelin chuckled. “I hate you.”

Rowan grinned, playfully squeezing her ass. “I hate you more.”

“I can’t even wrap my mind around it, though. You like the Wendlyn Eagles. It’s just incomprehensible.”

Rowan smirked. “You’re far too dramatic for your own good.”

“Someone has to be. The rest of the world is filled with some boring ass people, I tell you, Rowan.”

He laughed. “Having met with Chaol Westfall, I can agree with you there.”

A snort that was far from womanly left Aelin’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you had to work on that project with him all day. I felt so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan protested. “You were laughing every time I looked at you.”

“I can’t deny that.”

They both laughed. But the humor slowly dissolved as Rowan trailed his hand along Aelin’s side. The light touch turned greedy as Aelin leaned into him, aching for a rougher touch.

His hand reached for her breast and squeezed. Aelin scooted closer and reached her hand down below the sheets.

Rowan had her hand in his grasp in an instant. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Aelin muttered.

Rowan smirked. “But you need to learn it.”

“Training me to be a good girl for you, hmm?” Aelin scooted closer, the legs that had been casually intertwined now tangled against each other heatedly. “But don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes.

Rowan leaned in and nipped her lower lip. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please let me touch you,” Aelin rasped, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan gave her throat a quick squeeze, Aelin letting out a noise of content as he choked her. Then he let go off her entirely, and Aelin moved her hand farther under the sheet.

Rowan’s cock was half-hard when Aelin wrapped her slender fingers around it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Aelin started pumping her hand. She was thoroughly enjoying the small grunt that left his lips as he tried to hold back a groan.

Rowan thrust his hips into Aelin’s hand. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck as she pumped her hand. His cock hardened in her grip, and Aelin felt heat start to build between her legs.

Just when Aelin twisted her wrist and drew a growl out Rowan, he stopped her by flipping their bodies, pinning Aelin underneath him. He didn’t enjoy being the one squirming at someone else’s touch.

“Rowan,” she pleaded. He moved her arms, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, and brought the other down between her legs. But Rowan only parted her folds with a finger, stroking gently. Aelin bucked her hips, but he only withdrew his hand.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”

Rowan chuckled against her skin, licking a stripe up her neck and readjusting his hips so that Aelin was even more trapped under his body.

He slipped his finger inside her entrance, then pulled it back out immediately. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you.” He roughly fingered her clit, then pulled his hand away entirely.

Aelin complied. Please was the only word in her vocabulary as she whimpered for Rowan to make her feel good. He finger-fucked her for a few minutes before he decided she was behaving well enough to come. Rowan pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud of flesh. It didn’t take much for Aelin to be overcome by a massive wave of pleasure.

And when he fucked her, when he flicked her clit as he slammed into her, she came, not even close to satisfied. He didn’t stop moving not just until he came as well, but until she had a third orgasm. When he finally let up, Aelin dropped into a deep slumber, exhausted from his attentions.

—

They were back in the bar. Aelin was talking to a man, a man with silver hair and pine-green eyes. She didn’t know his name, but she wanted to.

“I’m new in town,” he said to her, but Aelin wasn’t concerned with the hazy lust clouding his eyes or the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was thinking about how nice he was, how smart and kind and funny. She didn’t want to drag him in the bathroom, she wanted to tell him that she lo—

An obnoxious beeping filled the room, filled Aelin’s head, turned the man into a blur. Aelin snapped awake, scrambling into a sitting position. Her alarm was going off.

She glanced over at Rowan, drowsily rubbing his eyes beside her, still lying down. “You okay, baby?”

Aelin let out a long exhale, trying to recall what her dream had been about. Rowan, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the sincerity of her statement, then nodded and said, “We should get up. Work’s in an hour.”

Aelin steadied her breathing—what had her dream been?—and expressed her agreement. They climbed out of bed and headed around the house: eating, making coffee, brushing teeth, showering. It had been three months since they’d become friends with benefits, and they had toothbrushes and extra clothing at each other’s homes. It made things much more convenient, not having to wait until the weekend to hook up.

Aelin headed out a few minutes before Rowan, both because arriving at the same time could be suspicious if anyone noticed, and because she had no reason to wait for him. She called a farewell, knowing he had a key to lock her door with. Again, for convenience purposes.

Despite that and the fact that they cuddled often after sex, naked and talking about football teams, their relationship really wasn’t abnormal. They had just become good friends.

Aedion headed into her office only moments after Aelin herself arrived. He looked at her, frowned, and said, “You have a hickey.”

Aelin refused to blush, cursing herself for not even bothering to look in the mirror other than for a quick hair brush and some light lipstick. She merely leaned back in her chair, threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk, and said, “We have an issue with the camera in the main elevator.”

Aedion sighed and took a seat. “We’ll have it fixed by lunchtime. Still playing with your boy toy?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Aedion.”

He snorted. “Me? You’re the one—”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Aelin interrupted. “Especially not here. Go fix the camera.” She tended to be relatively kind to her employees, and merely icy to the ones who pissed her off, but having grown up with Aedion, she tended to have a shorter temper when he was around.

A huff was all she got in reply before Aedion stood. He left, shutting the door gently—they had a silent agreement not to let their petty arguments disturb anyone else—and leaving Aelin alone. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera app, then took a look at her neck.

There was a dark bruise on the side, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to cover with her hair, unable to do anything less temporary during work. She pulled her blonde locks over that side and made a mental note to keep them there. Good thing she hadn’t passed many people on the way in.

Then she thought back to what had went down when Aedion had first walked in on her and Rowan, oh so long ago.

—

“What the fuck are you doing, Aelin?”

Aelin tensed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

She glanced over at Rowan, who looked part defensive and part confused. He probably didn’t realize Aedion was her cousin, though he might recognize him vaguely from work.

“You can go, Rowan. I’ll take care of this.”

He hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can handle him.”

Aedion snorted at that, but Aelin didn’t dignify him with a glance.

“Okay, but I…” Rowan trailed off.

Right. Aelin was still wearing his shirt.

“Um”—Aelin sent Aedion a smile—“We’ll be right back.” He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and he flashed a saccharine grin.

Mentally dying from embarrassment, Aelin grabbed Rowan’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway. Not bothering to say anything to him, she yanked off his shirt, tossed it to him, and opened her drawer.

“So that was… a friend?”

Aelin yanked on some underwear and sweats. She looked in a different drawer for a t-shirt. “My cousin. Aedion. He works security.”

“Ah.” What was different about Rowan’s tone after she said that? What was he thinking?

Aelin turned back around, fully dressed now. Rowan’s gaze was fixed on the wall, rather than watching her as she dressed. Apparently all desire had disappeared, replaced by awkwardness.

“He won’t tell anyone.” Rowan’s eyes snapped to Aelin. “He’s very protective of me, but as annoyed as he’ll undoubtedly be, he won’t say anything.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.”

They didn’t say anything more. Aelin nodded. Rowan nodded, too.

“Well,” Aelin said finally. “See you at work on Monday.”

Rowan laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you.”

They left the bedroom and Rowan walked ahead of Aelin to the door. He gave a tight nod to Aedion, who didn’t return the gesture. Aelin sighed.

Once Rowan was out the door, Aelin smiled brightly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good here.”

She ignored his tone and plumped onto the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Aed.”

He frowned. “He works for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aelin snapped.

Aedion pushed off the wall and stalked forward, dropping on the couch next to her. “You’re his boss. He’s probably just trying to get a promotion.”

A scowl crossed Aelin’s features. “You don’t even have any idea what this is,” she hissed.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Aedion’s growing temper matched her own. “Do you love him?”

Aelin scoffed. “Of course not. I just met the man a few weeks ago. Besides, that would be inappropriate.”

“That would be inappropriate,” Aedion repeated incredulously. “And this fucking isn’t?”

She huffed. “Rowan is well aware that this won’t be affecting his career at all, positively or negatively. It stays out of work, okay? There’s no reason to be pestering me about it.”

“It’s wrong, Aelin.”

“It is gods-damn not,” she snapped. “I am an adult, and he is an adult, and if we want to fuck, we will fuck. There’s your laptop. Take it and leave.”

Aedion did no such thing. “You know I only care about you.”

“If you care about me, you will mind your own business.”

Aedion sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk you on Monday. Lunch, remember?”

Aelin wanted to yell at him, her stubborn demeanor making it difficult to lose her anger, but if he was taking the steps to end this argument, she could do the same. “Fine. See you Monday.” Her voice was only slightly less sharp, but the words were enough. Aedion smiled in acknowledgment and left.

—

So much had changed since then, but Aedion’s attitude toward the pair’s out-of-work activities was not one of them. He glared at Rowan whenever they were in the same room, trying to find something to fault him for, but there never was anything. During their time in the office, Rowan remained respectful and kind, exactly as she’d requested of him all those days ago. He truly was a good man.

Drawing her thoughts away from Rowan, Aelin reached for a pen and got to work.

It was an hour later that Rowan joined her, starting on their major workload for the planning of their newest fundraising activity, as well as the arduous task of budgeting. Having such an involved roll in many of Aelin’s largest tasks, she had a small table designated for him against the wall, if ever they needed more space. Other thank that, he just used the opposite side of Aelin’s own desk.

Neither of them mentioned this morning, as was usual.

It may have been Aelin’s overactive imagination, but Rowan seemed distant today. Distracted about something or other. He brushed her off when Aelin asked if he was okay, and she let him have some space after that.

By the time the end of the workday rolled around, Aelin was exhausted. It was Friday, which meant she’d just spent the past five days pouring her sweat and blood into each project and task. She did work on the weekends, but the little loads she did at home could hardly compare to the stress of the week.

Aelin always worked later than everybody else; she wanted to get as much done as she could, and she made sure her workers, if not herself, had good hours. It was nearly seven-thirty when she filed away the last document.

When she came out of her office to find an empty floor, vacated entirely by Elide and all of the other staff, she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised that all of her workers were gone. That was entirely expected. She was surprised that Rowan was gone.

Not that he was supposed to be here; even though he worked a bit later some days, he usually left before her. But sometimes he waited up for her, in case she was in the mood. Well aware of the fact that they had fucked last night and they didn’t do it every day or anything, Aelin mentally shook herself for being concerned about Rowan’s absence. Still, some of the uneasiness remained.

Rowan had a pretty good position in the company, and as such, he had his own, albeit small, office. Aelin peered in just to be sure he was gone. Only a janitor, Arobynn, was in the office, and she waved at him. He gruffly nodded.

Trying not to reprimand herself out loud and look like a lunatic in front of the janitor, Aelin headed to the elevator. She was bothered that she was so caught up in Rowan that him not being there, even when it was entirely expected, made her lonely. It was just the sex she missed, of course.

Aelin impatiently tapped her pen against the handrail the whole elevator ride down, and when the doors finally opened, she hurried to her car, feeling she needed a nap. And maybe a whiskey.

—

The weekend passed in a blur. Aelin texted Rowan once, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t pestered him after that, knowing full well that he was allowed to have a life and she didn’t want to be desperate and annoy him into coming over. But she couldn’t deny the rapidly growing kernel of excitement resting in the pit of her stomach as Aelin headed to work on Monday.

“Hello, Elide,” Aelin called merrily, waving as she passed her.

Elide just sent a bemused smile to her friend.

Aelin marched toward her office, peering through the windows to find… a man that was not Rowan. Backpedaling because Aelin didn’t want to meet a client unprepared, she stepped away before he could see her. Then she made her way back to Elide.

“Who is that in my office?”

Elide frowned. “I sent you an email about it last night.”

“Last night? The last work I did was yesterday afternoon.”

Elide sighed, as if Aelin should have been checking her email all weekend long. She always had such high expectations. “That’s Nox Owens, the replacement.”

“Replacement for whom?” Aelin asked warily.

Elide blinked. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” Aelin crossed her arms.

“We had to find a new coordinations director over the weekend. Mr. Whitethorn tendered his immediate resignation last Friday.”

———

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#rowaelin #tog #when passion rules the game #my writing

[simpleserendipity]

After Practice | Calum Hood | Mature

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (friends with benefits)

Warnings: swearing, blowjobs, masturbation, praise kink, degradation

Word count: 1695 words

The door slams shut and echo through the house. The only sounds that can be heard in the house are his footsteps stomping through the house, his grumbling, and Duke’s quiet barks. Calum trudges through the house with his soccer duffle slung over his shoulder, heading to Duke’s crate to let him out. There weren't many drawbacks of being a professional soccer player, he has a nice big house, a great dog, his dream job, and the money to buy anything he ever wanted. However one of the biggest drawbacks is he is perpetually alone. It wasn’t by choice because of course he had girlfriends or others he was interested in but things were always complicated with his job, the schedule, and traveling. He got to the crate where Duke was, whining and wagging his tail.

“Hey, buddy,” Calum coos at the dog as he kneels in front of the crate, “Missed you.” He laughs as he lets the dog out of the crate. Duke runs straight for the dog door making Calum break his scowl for a quick laugh. Calum shakes his head as he turns on his heels heading up the stairs then down the hall. He gets to the master bedroom and opens the door quickly. As soon as he steps into the room, Calum drops the duffle in the corner, a corner he long designated his soccer corner. He was pissed today was a tough practice, the coach had them running harder drills, faster plays and was on Calum about every little mistake today which was bothering him. Calum has always held himself to the highest of standards when it came to soccer, so he didn’t the coaches harping on him bother him outwardly, on the inside he was fuming though. He kicked his trainers off on top of the duffle and went to the bathroom. Calum sets his phone onto the counter beside the sink. Then he looked at himself in the mirror before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He looked beat up, soccer had been taking a lot out of him recently, and being the captain of a professional team was really starting to eat him away. He was barely sleeping or relaxing, all his time was spent training. Calum turned to the shower, one of the best things in this house. It was one of the things that confused him at first was why someone would need such a large space, the shower was bigger than his entire bathroom in his childhood home but now it was easily one of his favorite places in the entire house. The shower was lit by overhead lights and surrounded by black tile and glass walls. He turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up.

Calum turned back to the mirror to undress. He peeled the team warm-ups off slowly, throwing them into the hamper beside the shower. Next, he took off the practice uniform, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers. Calum stretched upwards, the sports tape on his hip was beginning to peel at the motion. Calum stripped completely and chucked the remaining clothing into the bin, stretching again. His fingers traced down his hip bone, finding the peeled-up edge of the tape, rolling it off his skin, leaving a red mark in its wake before crumpling it, leaving it on the counter, deciding it’s a problem for later. The room was steaming up much more so he decided it was time to hop in. He slides the glass open slowly before stepping in. He was hoping the shower would relieve some tension. He got in and rolled his head around, the curls wetting down to his head as the water rolled down his tanned muscles. He runs his hands through his hair while washing it. Calum’s hands ran over the smooth expanse of his muscles, trying to rub the muscles to relieve any tension he could.

After a few moments some of the tension had disappeared but not all of it, “Fuck…” He groans in irritation as his hand runs down his stomach, coming down to grip his cock. He figured it may be worth a shot to try to relax a little more. He starts to run his hand up and down his cock gripping firmly. He quickened his pace, trying to get this over with. It wasn’t the fact that Calum was embarrassed about jacking off but he just didn’t like to take longer than necessary. His head falls back and the water drops down his face as he continues to go faster. His mind was wandering trying to think of what would help him finish the job. His mind wanders to you, his casual hookup, an arrangement that perfectly suited both of you. You were too busy and so was Calum for a real relationship so you two would hook up occasionally to keep your needs taken care of. Calum stops stroking his cock, letting his hardened member fall out of his hand. None of his ministrations were doing enough to get him to release, only making him more frustrated, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He huffs to himself, trying to muster up any thought that could help him. He tries to think back to the last time you had seen each other, it must have been close to two months since you’ve seen each other. Calum sighs, “How could it have been so long?” He wonders to himself. Calum turns and shuts the water off, walking out of the shower, shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair. He turns the towel rack, picking up a towel to wrap a towel around his waist. He steps over in front of the mirror, picking up his phone, starting to text quickly.

FROM CALUM: How fast can you get over here?

TO CALUM: Hello to you too…

FROM CALUM: I’m serious.

TO CALUM: I’m busy.

FROM CALUM: Well get not busy.

TO CALUM: Fine. 10 minutes.

Calum would normally feel bad about being so demanding with you but after the day he’s had he couldn’t care less. He also knew that you would never say no to him. Something about him was always so hard to say no to. He walks out of the bathroom, setting the phone onto the bedside table before collapsing on the bed, his hair drips a little on his bed. He sighs and lays on the bed waiting. He didn’t have to worry about you getting past the gate of the neighborhood or even into the house. The gate code and a spare key was something he gave you a long time ago so he had no worries about you being able to get into his house. Calum laid on there patiently waiting, wondering what the hell was taking you so long.

“Calum?” You called out.

“Back here.” He called sitting up, leaning back on his palms. He could hear your feet coming up the stairs. You opened the door to the most amazing sight you’ve seen in a while. Calum sat on the edge of the bed and you couldn’t help but stare, “Are you going just fucking stand there?” He snapped.

You came further into the room, still acting shy as you did so. He hated when you acted and so mousy like this because he knew you better than that, “You’re pissy.” You laughed a little.

“Yeah, today sucked.” He huffed, standing up facing you, he towered over you slightly.

“Tough practice?” You questioned, stepping closer so that you’re pressed chest to chest.

Calum nods before he sets a hand on your shoulder. “So down on your knees baby,” He pushes you down to your knees, “Now suck.”

You dropped to your knees without a moment of hesitation. You pulled the towel down to expose his muscular thighs and his prominent cock waiting to be touched. You stared for a moment, “Oh wow.” You eagerly wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and planted kisses around the length.

“You really are such a whore aren’t you?” He laughs, “You drove over here at my request and now you look at you, on your knees so desperate for my cock.”

You nod, “I am, I really am.” You opened your mouth and slowly took the length in, letting your hands leave his cock and rest on the sides of his thighs, as you increase your pace.

Calum’s hand was quick to come down and wrap your hair around his hand, “That’s right baby. You are my little whore, my little plaything. I could call you at any time and you would come, wouldn't you?” You hummed as you worked your mouth up and down the length. You moved down his length until your nose was at his pubic bone and you were gagging around him, “Fuck you always take my dick so well.” Calum’s hand in your hair pulls you back off of him, “So fucking well.” He praises you as you looked up at him before thrusting back into your mouth. Your hands come up and dig your fingers into his thighs as your throat tightens around him again. You quicken your pace as Calum’s moans got louder. You peered up at him through your eyelashes to see his head thrown back in pleasure. You swirl your tongue around the tip as his grip tightened on your hair, “So close baby,” He sighs, “Stop let me paint your face.” His tone was breathless as you pulled off, a string of saliva connecting the tip to your lips. Your left hand came off his thigh, reaching up to grip the base before jerking it aggressively, “Please Calum…” You were begging him to finish at this point, you were so desperate to get him off. You continued to whine and beg, so desperate for him to cum. Only a moment later, white spurts of cum painted your face.

Calum’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, “Good job baby,” He releases your hair, “But how about you bend over the edge of the bed so I can reward you baby.”

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