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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Note

Hi hi! I’m sure you’re being flooded, but I’d love a little something about younger (20 or older though!) reader babysitting for dad! Steve. Smutty if you feel so inclined. Can be single or not, dealer’s choice!

I went wayyyy overboard with this, oops, but it was so sexy omfg

word count: 2k

warnings: huge age gap (45+ vs 20), unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral m receiving, sliiiightly mean dom steve, size kink, stomach bulge kink, daddy kink

You'd been crushing on Mr. Harrington for years, actually... even before the divorce.

It wasn't just that he was good-looking, although that was obviously part of it. It was the way he acted with you, it made you feel all girly and little and dumb; it was the way he played with his kids which made your uterus sob in envy; it was the way he wore reflective shades to the pool and you had to wonder if he was looking at you and seeing how much you'd grown.

For the longest, much to your dismay, nothing happened between you. You'd been trying to make conversation after he came back each night to finish your babysitting shift, but it never really worked. Nothing worked, actually, not even the skimpy outfits or the strategic bending over or the casual touches to his arm or knee.

Nothing worked until last night.

It started mostly normal, except that he was obviously in a worse mood than usual. You asked how his date went; he dodged the question. You pressed again, and he shook his head as he sat down on the couch, running his hands over his hair.

"It's starting to feel futile," he explained, speaking quietly knowing his kids were asleep down the hall.

"What is?"

"All of it," he breathed. "Dating, work, all of it."

You sat next to him, pulling your knees up on the sofa and tilting your head sympathetically. "Tell me about it," you offered.

Amazingly, he did. He told you about how each woman he went out with was worse than the last, and he didn't trust any of them with his kids. That made your heart skip; I'm his babysitter, he trusts me with his kids.

He told you about how rough the divorce had been, and then the custody arrangements. Apparently he was still dealing with that even though Mrs. Harrington had moved out probably almost two years ago now.

He told you about how hard his job was, how the hours killed him, how he could barely find time to spend with his family because he was putting out everyone else's fires at the office.

"That all sounds really stressful, Mr. Harrington," you cooed when he finished his rant. "You need to relax."

He chuckled a little. "Easier said than done."

"Maybe I can help you."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but his eyes went wide as he watched you get on your knees on the ground.

"Let me help you relax, Mr. Harrington," you pleaded, running your hands over his legs gently as they stayed slightly spread on the couch.

"Oh, uh— I— sweetie, we can't—"

You reached up to his belt, and even if his words were hesitant, he lifted his hips slightly to make it easier for you to unbuckle it.

"Are you— fuck— are you really—? Baby..."

It made your hips wiggle against the carpet hearing him talk like that. You got his fly open next, and started to rub his cock through his boxers underneath. His eyes followed your every move in disbelief.

He was just starting to get hard when you took him out, but he was already so big... your mouth was watering. You couldn't wait any longer: you looked up at him for just a second before you leaned forward and took his fat head into your mouth.

Groaning and tilting his head back, his hands found purchase in your hair instantly.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, "you're... you're so bad, sweetie, you know you shouldn't... oh my god."

You bobbed your head eagerly, feeling him swell and harden against your tongue until your mouth was stretched to its limit by his size. You hummed around him joyfully, revelling in the softly salty taste on your tongue. Stroking with your hand what your lips couldn't reach, you took a break after a few minutes to look up at him for approval.

"Where'd a sweet girl like you learn how to do that?" he asked with a long sigh. "Fuck, keep sucking... look up at me, baby."

You did as you were told, and he adjusted his hips slightly so it was easier for you to keep eye contact with him while you suckled at his throbbing head.

"Good," he praised, stroking your cheek as you worked. "Such pretty eyes... and that pretty mouth too, god. Take it deeper, sweetie, you can choke a little."

His hand helped push you down until his dick hit the end of your throat, and you gagged helplessly. He moaned loudest at that, eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Too big for your little mouth, huh?" he noticed. "Poor baby. Choke on me again."

You did as he said and noticed his hips rocking up to push his cock even deeper and gag you even harder. Tears welled in your eyes but he purred in satisfaction.

"Mm, good job," he praised, "you're so good for me, sweetie."

Needing a break for your throat, you pulled back and stroked him slowly as you made conversation. "How long has it been since somebody sucked your cock, Mr. Harrington?" you asked sweetly.

"Fuck, I don't even know— years? Before Allie was born, probably. She didn't... she never did it, really," he mumbled, and you tried not to bite your lip. Of course his bitch ex-wife never did this to him, he was probably so starved for affection for ages.

"That's such a shame," you pouted, "it tastes so good. I'd never be able to stop tasting you, Mr. Harrington."

"Then don't stop," he encouraged, pushing your head down again. You got back into the pattern, only taking breaks to lathe the shaft in long licks from base to tip; he seemed to like those a lot.

Sometimes you felt his cock throb and you hoped it meant he would come soon: you couldn't wait. You went on for a while longer, though, and started to get desperate for it. When his heavy breathing made you pretty sure he was close, you broke the pattern one more time to encourage him. "I want you to come in my mouth," you informed him. "M'gonna swallow it, sir, I promise."

"No, fuck no," he interrupted, surprising you. "No, I want that pussy. Fuck, I need your pussy, get up here."

You climbed onto the couch eagerly, straddling his lap as he started to pull your skirt up right away. He snapped your panties off like it was nothing, instantly groaning at the sight of your mound beneath; you felt so exposed in the best way, you worried you were going to drip right down onto his khakis with him looking at you like that.

"Fuck, sweetie, you're so gorgeous," he sighed, "such a gorgeous little pussy. C'mere..."

He held your thighs, petting them as he guided you down to his cock. He stopped looking at it once he was just barely pushing inside, instead starting to watch your face as you sank down onto his length with a moan. "Fuck!" you whimpered. "Fuck, too big, you're too—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, "gotta be quiet, baby, the kids are asleep."

Your gut burned from how stupidly hot that was, and you bit your lip to try to keep it down. His cock reached the end of you and you jolted, trying to move back up, but he shook his head and kept guiding you down.

"No, sweetie, you need to take all of me," he scolded gently. "You're gonna take all of me, fuck, so good..."

Finally, somehow, he managed to get it all inside until your thighs were flush with his. You were shaking, it was so deep you were shaking; there was a slight bulge in your tummy where his cock filled you. "Mr. Harrington, it's too deep..."

He growled, actually growled, and held your hips tightly. "No, baby, it's just the right amount. You're taking me so good... all of my cock is in you, sweetie, you're doing so fucking good. Now just ride me."

Shaking and whimpering, you started to rock your hips on top of his; he sighed and watched you, looking wrecked in the best way.

"Yeah, fuck," he encouraged, "fuck, you know how long it's been since I had pussy like this? Tight, wet, young pussy like yours? You feel so fucking good..."

"You too," you moaned, "you feel so good, Mr. Harrington..."

He smirked a bit. "I think we're on a first name basis by now... but I want you to keep calling me that anyways. It's so fucking cute."

Pulling you a little closer, he whispered right by your ear.

"Maybe," he suggested, "you could even call me daddy."

"Oh, daddy," you pounced on the opportunity immediately, and he groaned in satisfaction. "Daddy, it feels really really good..."

"Yeah? Well then why don't you cream for me, huh? Let that cute little pussy come on my cock—"

You didn't even let him finish. You'd been worked up since he got here and it hit you all at once. He watched you proudly, thin laughter ringing in your ears.

"God, you're so sensitive," he groaned, "it's gonna take me a while, baby, I'm not as young as you... takes me all night sometimes."

You shuddered; "I don't have anywhere to be..."

"Yeah you do," he corrected, starting to guide your hips as your motions faltered from the exhaustion of coming. "Your parents are probably worried about you, sweetie. They don't know what a slut you are, do they?"

You shook your head. "N-no, daddy..."

"Fuck," he breathed, "you're so cute... show daddy your tits, sweetie— lift up your shirt for me and show me your tits."

He was more than capable of doing it himself, but he preferred to watch you roll up your tank top and let him see your tits, hardened from being so turned on by all this. You'd stopped wearing a bra around him months ago, and it was all worth it as he reached up and palmed one of your breasts.

"Mm," he hummed, "you've got great tits, baby— you show them off too much, though."

He slid his hand across your chest to touch the other gently. "I only did that for you, Mr. Harrington," you promised, "I just wanted your attention... wanted you to see how grown up I am..."

He smirked. "You got my fucking attention, sweetie."

With renewed energy, you started to take control again, riding him in earnest. "Really?" you confirmed hopefully. "Did you think about me, daddy? Did you ever jerk off and think about my tits?"

He delayed his answer by hissing a little, looking down at where your pussy slid up and down on him before tilting his head back again. "Yes," he admitted, "yeah, I thought about you. I would've done it a lot more if I knew you wanted me to."

"Of course I wanted you to," you giggled, "I have such a big crush on you, Mr. Harrington, I have for so long..."

"A crush, huh?" he laughed.

You nodded eagerly, whining when he held onto you tighter and started to thrust up into you off the couch.

"You know I'm more than twice your age, right?" he reminded you with a purr, and you nodded. "You know I'm older than your dad, right?"

Your head was spinning, but you nodded again.

"And you know I could get you pregnant... right?"

You moaned, head falling back, and he laughed.

"I knew it," he gloated, "I knew that was what you wanted— knew you needed some babies fucked into you, sweet girl. Daddy's gonna knock you up, s'that what you want?"

"Yes, yes!" you sobbed.

You weren't moving at all now, you were limp and useless as he thrust up into you hard and fast, making you cry and moan so loudly he had to cover your mouth. "I'll come, fuck, nice and deep," he promised, "and give you a baby, yeah? Get you so full and pregnant, just how you want it."

You were begging him for it, but it was all muffled into nonsense under his hand as he fucked up into you rough and fast. It ended with a groan, his head falling back and his body going limp under you as he came. You collapsed onto him, both of you sinking into the couch as you caught your breath.

His hands rested on your thighs still, sometimes petting them or moving up to your waist; you shyly hid your face in the crook of his neck, hardly believing that this really happened— and terrified you would wake up and realize it was all a wonderful dream. "Think I'm gonna need you to babysit for me again tomorrow night," he broke the silence suddenly. "I'll pay double for the short notice."

"I'll do it for free," you replied.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #dad!steve harrington

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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Simon would have a rough time trusting another person enough to have sex.

can you write something about his first time with the reader where he asks about consent for almost every move he makes?

I'd love a gender neutral reader but afab is good too❤️❤️

♡ PART TWO ♡ PART THREE ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ first-time with simon ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ // warning(s): nsfw, gn!reader

it took long for him to admit his feelings for you. took even longer to do anything resembling intimacy. it's the deepest connection for him, though he doesn't look the type.

it's everything to him, and nothing simultaneously. he could have a healthy relationship that lacked sexual intimacy entirely, and wouldn't lose a wink of sleep.

but here he was — ready to test the waters.

it had to be an act of one hundred percent certainty with Simon. no regrets, no hard feelings, no uncomfortable moments. pure pleasure with someone he trusted.

none of it was planned, which both terrified and intrigued him.

you had arrived home like normal, shared a meal like normal. and then... somehow ended up all over each other — not normal for you two. but it wasn't rushed, it wasn't hot and heavy, it was natural. you were leaning into him heavier than before, kissing him even deeper.

it was as if your bodies had all the conversation up until this point — a silent decision that tonight was the night. "you sure about this, love?" Simon murmured, a thumb caressing your cheek as he looked for any inkling of doubt in your eyes. however, there wasn't any, not even a smidge.

whether you supplied a nod or a verbal cue, he continued to ask for them. he needed them, otherwise it didn't feel right. each layer of clothing, he asked. every new inch of flesh, he asked. Simon needed to know you were all there; not blinded by lust, not purely following his lead for the sake of a hasty release.

"can I take these off?" his fingers hovered over your undergarments, waiting until you nodded for him to roll them down your thighs. even when exposed in front of him, his mind was running a mile a minute. Simon relied on his hands first, since he kept his mouth busy looking for reassurance. "does that feel alright? you want 'em faster?" his need for consent oozed enough sex-appeal to begin with — but now you were greeted with a whole new him. still considerate, still frazzled, but even more attractive than you'd ever seen him.

you were sure his eyes never left you, because they didn't. whether he was making eye contact or watching his hands prepare you, they were always cemented.

sometimes the other hand would stay at his side until you were deeper in pleasure. then it would move to your chest, slithering up until he could caress your heated cheeks. his touch, even the innocent one, only heightened his ability to make you feel good.

he didn't know when to stop. what if you weren't really ready? what if he hurt you somehow? you physically had to snap him out of it. either by begging, or giving him a look of desperation — and it spoke volumes, indeed. you needed him, yearned for the part of Simon still unknown.

"say the words and i'll stop, love." once again, his gaze searched for discomfort, but found none. after a few moments of shuffling, he found a position that required little exertion — spooning you. his arms could remain tight around your waist, where he could hit all the right angles, and both parties could remain relaxed on the mattress.

and so it began; the slowest ease, the utmost restraint when he finally rid himself of his clothes. though you hadn't touched an inch of him, his arousal was evident. inch by inch, he guided himself into you, "we'll take it slow— just like this." he stuck to his words, halting if you ever needed a moment. he was still as a statue until you gave him the go-ahead to go all in. "does that feel good? you want more, hm? fuck, you feel good around me."

Simon finally started to enjoy it, too, though he remained calculated and observant. your own sounds and praises are what mattered most, always would to him. he could physically feel his trust building with you, as did he mentally.

whether common or uncommon, there were more nights like this to come in the future.

the night wasn't perfect by any means, but his forbearance was not something easily forgotten.

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #simon riley #task force 141 x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley headcanons #cod x reader #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #tf 141 x reader #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #mw2 ghost #141 smut

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skzdarlings · 2 months

Text

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness. Everything feels romantic. Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix, Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium. He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance.

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate. A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in. Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad. He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek.

You poke that cheek. A muscle in his jaw twitches. He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.

“Do not,” he says.

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.”

You obey his demand for silence. For about six seconds.

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably.

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says. “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed. You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him. Felix sighs but slows his pace. To your surprise, he answers your question. “A month,” he says. “I’ve been working there a month.”

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say. “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop. Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together. He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.

“I already told you,” he says. “My job is checking tickets. Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.

He smiles. It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow. He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart? You can’t hold one down. You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they? Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring. And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it. Except by acting out. It’s fun, right? Looking for trouble. Makes you feel something for a minute. Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside. You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped. Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth.

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues. “You told me I was a good boy, yeah? Your words. And you think you’re bad. A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?”

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature.

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says. “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you? You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay. But you don’t make it easy. And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.”

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface. To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background.

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask.

He is still smiling.

He laughs, a low chuckle. He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight.

“No, I’m not,” he says. “I’m just the same as you. Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time. Just so good, you know?” He is almost theatrical in tone. “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you. Isn’t it?”

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips. It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes.

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper.

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good. If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours. He abruptly steps back.

Oh. You blink quickly. Yes. Of course. It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it? He does not need to flaunt it. He can just smile at you.

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his. He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street. So seemingly innocent. Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat.

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples.

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs. He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life. It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are. “I’m not sick. See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run. Twisted, on the other hand… well…”

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate. You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you.

You smile back at him.

You still intend to win.

It is a twenty minute walk. Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations. Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires. He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed. Very, very detailed.

“Um, right,” he says. “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.”

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario. He looks a little wan.

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished.

“I dunno, get creative. My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh? Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out. Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end.

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says. “I am standing right beside you. You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.” You do not bother hiding your texts.

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies. “It sounds like my business.”

“Well, it’s not. We’ve already established the world revolves around me. You’re the supporting character, pal.”

“Right,” he says. He blinks at the screen. In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?”

It never hurts to be thorough. You type the address and send it to the boys.

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes.

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat. “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over. “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt. “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow. “Is this what you call winning?” he asks.

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows. “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say. “And my opinion is the only one that matters.”

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown. Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips. He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him. “Come on,” he says. “We’re almost there.”

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse. You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house. Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway. It is an ostentatious design to say the least. You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties. “This place belongs to my parents. They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.”

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach. “About your background, I mean. You and me really are alike.”

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings. Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite. It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there.

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door.

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks. He stands silent for a long moment. When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say. “You know.”

“Uhh.” He blinks quickly. “I have feelings all the time. Every day.”

“Wow,” you say. “That sounds exhausting. Explains a lot about you.”

“All right.” He shakes his head. He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look. You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door. The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing. It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping. Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire. You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips.

Felix is none-the-wiser. He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code. It beeps and goes quiet. You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight. He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans. Unassuming, gentle, sweet. Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass. But he can. He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you.

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space. You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack. The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care. The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name.

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts. “Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away. You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing. Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft. It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky. And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you.

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says. “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.”

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him. The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality. Mutual objectification is more your style. Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings.

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door. “It’s freaky.”

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking. Ugh. You shake it off and push open his bedroom door.

He shakes his head and leads you in. He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison. His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets. Yes. That is more your thing. Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core. You want him to lose control. You want to drive him crazy. You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer. A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top. He takes it out and immediately unlocks you.

The cuffs fall to the floor. He scoops them up and jingles them in your face.

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say. “You evil son of a bitch.”

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings. But he knew you wanted to play him. He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer. Now there is no reason to linger. Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again.

He is going to make you ask for it.

That is not your style. You hate being out-smarted. And you really, really, really hate losing.

“Right,” you say. “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom. It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights. You are swimming in blue, breathing it in. His hair, the room, and moonlight.

You will never see this colour the same way again. Of that much you are certain.

“Blue,” you say.

His brow crinkles. “Blue?” he repeats.

“Mm.” You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze. “Red. Yellow. Green. Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath. The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you. He is dazzling. This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room. “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…”

“Uh-huh,” he says. He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely. Now he knows what you are capable of doing. Now you understand each other.

He follows you, assessing every step you take. There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more.

“And what does blue mean?” he asks. “To you?”

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins. So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting. The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces.

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth. His confidence is easy. He needs no grand display of machoism. He just smiles that pretty pink mouth. The glitter on his cheek sparkles.

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says. Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.”

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand. You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table. You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well. Because it is not as though he loves the clock. It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents. You can read him that easily too. He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks. He likes neon and blue and you.

“Put what back?” you ask. You have reached the front door. Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob.

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says.

You push the door open.

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say. With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?”

Red to stop. Yellow to pause. Green to give in.

“Blue,” he says. To play.

You smile. You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.”

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came. He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.

“Sweetheart,” he says. “Don’t make me do this.”

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice. There is nothing soft about him. He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body. You feel each glance. A shiver races down your spine. Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze.

It also gets you so, so hot.

All that tension snaps.

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate. You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe. You show him no mercy this time. Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again.

You glance over your shoulder. He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused.

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again. Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you.

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth. You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block. There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes.

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you. You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone. A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you.

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes. Your heart leaps. The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend. You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light. You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds. But running on the road will expose you too quickly.

You will not surrender that easily. He knows that.

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea. You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow. He is not behind you so you race back to his house.

There is no way he will circle back here. He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates. He would never guess you ran back into his house. Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait.

You run back up the driveway. The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked. Nope. He locked it. Maybe that is why he was delayed.

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in. But no, you are still winning. He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows. You do not think he had time to set the alarm. Did he? Maybe that is why he was so far behind.

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard. You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape. The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around. There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit. In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight. Of course.

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath. You strategize your next move. Should you pose on one of the pool chairs? Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum. Someone is making their way down the side of the house.

You panic. You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide. You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it.

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard. He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered. He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open.

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence. You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.

“I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You should have known better. Of course he had the same idea as you. Now what? How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move?

You peek around the storage trunk. Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight. Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut. He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock. He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him.

So that is why he took so long. He unlocked the gate before giving chase. He laid a trap and you ran right into it.

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper.

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly. It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches.

Your heart tempers itself when he stops. He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard. “You don’t need to hide. I promise I’m not mad.” He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees. He hums thoughtfully to himself. “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…” He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning. “Hmm, hmm, hmm…”

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin. You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him. You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you. So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him. You almost want to scream. He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him.

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone. He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble. Even though you are far away, it makes you jump. You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping.

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it. He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing. Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile.

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says. “I thought we were turning into friends. Don’t you want to be my friend?”

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table. He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you.

He is giving you time, you realize. He wants you worked up. He wants your heart racing. He wants you quivering and soft and afraid.

You look around frantically, searching for an escape.

Your hope rises then plummets. The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap. It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you.

You jump at another slam. It was the shed door. He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside.

“Come on,” he says into the shed. “Don’t be scared.”

You take a deep breath. You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned. You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can.

He is just as quiet. You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena. Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth.

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him.

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth. He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand. “Yeah, that’s it,” he says. “Fight me. Brat.”

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before. There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front. You kick your legs as he straddles your backside. He brings your hands together on the base of your spine.

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration. Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back.

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up. He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it. You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm.

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth. It hovers like he expects you to start screaming. You just exhale heavily, glaring. “All right,” he says. “Very good. Come on.”

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground. He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him. He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way.

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs. He catches you quickly. You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again.

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between. With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together.

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly.

“Not quite,” he says, laughing. “I’ve been picturing something else.”

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open. The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier.

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough. You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard. But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand. It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand.

“This is what I was picturing,” he says. It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper. His lips graze your ear and you shiver.

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth. A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart. His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons.

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you. “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more. “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?” You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips. He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly. “God, that’s hot,” he says. “You might be a brat but your pussy... It’s begging for it, isn’t it? Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm? Hmm?”

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns. You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.”

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply.

“You can do better than that,” he says. “Come on. Show me how much you want it. You can’t lie to me, sweetheart. I can feel it, hmm? Gonna feel it when you come. Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that? What’s it want?”

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuck you. You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need. You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right? Go on. Show me you want it. Show me.”

Your chest is heaving. Your eyes close. You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately. It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking.

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you. He knows you are about to come. This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand. You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you. The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue. He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch.

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth. You catch your breath, slumping against his chest.

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head. You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth. You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers. You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself. Strands of blue fall across his forehead. He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel.

He grins around his fingers. Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his. He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths. His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his. You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses.

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly. “Because for what we do next…” He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is. “Yeah, sweetheart. For that, I need all of you.”

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you. You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright. You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath.

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone. You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch. You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant.

You follow him to the open door. One step, two steps.

Then you say, “Blue.”

You take off running into the house.

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you.

He slams the door shut behind him. You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside. It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape.

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide. There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances. Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard. And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about.

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice. His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual. “Stop hiding. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…”

You peer at him between some boxes. He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too. The glittering amusement has left his eyes. They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air.

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it. He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place. He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables.

You shuffle with him, moving when he does. He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses.

“Come on now,” he says, turning around. He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple. “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says. “I know you, sweetheart. You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah? Hmm. You’re fast. I bet you’re flexible too. I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions. Get you making all sorts of noises for me…”

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move. Your limbs are still shaky. Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch.

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses. Did he hear that? Maybe not. He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs. It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs. In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.” Then he smiles again. He turns in your direction slowly. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you. Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house.

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good. You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.”

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet. It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says. He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you. “Don’t make me come get you,” he says. “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

You shuffle to the side. He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs.

“Right,” he says. “Fine. We’ll do it that way.”

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away. You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on. It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide.

You can hear Felix stomping after you. You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide.

You yelp when he bursts in behind you. This time, he does not give. He grabs you roughly when you try to run again. With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder. He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back.

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom. “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?” He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him. He smiles. “Worth a shot, no?”

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says.

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you. He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans.

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him. “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.”

You were right. You will never see the colour blue the same way again. You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again.

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open. He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough. He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick. He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water. You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face. He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars. Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, baby,” he says. He reaches down to wipe a tear. “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle.

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach. He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress. Then he swoops up. He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything.

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips. He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.”

“Oh god,” is your rough reply.

“It’s Felix,” he says. “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

He has a condom in his bedside drawer. Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?” He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips. You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy. “No, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m gonna have all of you. And you – are gonna – take it.”

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you. You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more. When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before. You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you. You let them melt into the physical sensations. When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you. You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says. Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His face is in your neck when he laughs. It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you. He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes. It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs.

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle. He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it. Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes.

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says.

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck. You get uncharacteristically bashful. Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much. Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed. Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile.

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks.

You nod. He smiles.

“Me too,” he says.

“That’s nice. Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh.

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes.

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while. You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light. You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress.

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort. He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head. “What! Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning. “I better be prepared.”

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you. I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says. “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back. “I still won this round.”

He lifts your face so he can look at you. Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you. You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore. Vexatious vixen, indeed.

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you say. You kiss again, long and sweet. Then you bop him on the nose. “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head. Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x you #skz x you #stray kids x you

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polakina · 2 months

Text

how they act when they're jealous

call of duty headcanons #5

hc masterlist // masterlist

god i love seeing jealousy in men. and i love the 141. so this is a nice happy medium

ALSO im running out of ideas AHH pls send me some. i need to write more

rating: explicit

stone-faced expression

teeth gritted

if looks could kill, they'd be dead

you'd all gone out after a long mission to unwind

gaz and soap took the opportunity to try and out drink eachother while simon stayed pretty much to himself

but price had alternative plans for the night

keeping an eye on you

not that you needed the supervision, but when you drank, you liked to wander. he'd been thinking about tying a balloon to your shirt when you all went out to make sure you were still in the building

he was considering it right this second, after he'd lost sight of you for a third time that night

then he caught you, at the bar, most likely ordering another round of drinks. you looked happy, smiling. it was nice for him to see after such a strenuous three weeks you'd all just had

but his eyes turned black when he saw a guy come up next to you, hand reaching for your waist

he'd left his drink with simon, made his way over to you and stood directly behind you as you were turned to the man before this asshole even formulated a hello

you'd felt a presence behind you, knowing it was john and not even turning to see if you were right. but by the look on that guy's face, you probably were

"best just to walk away, eh?" you heard from behind you. it made you smirk as the guy scuttled away like a raccoon in a trash can

turning to see john's stoic expression, his piercing gaze boring into the guy's head until he was out of view

had his hand on you the whole night after that

it felt like a protective grip on your thigh

his jaw was clenched and you felt his eyes on you constantly, but every time you looked at him, his gaze was elsewhere

feels the need to touch every part of you to eradicate any sense of that other guy's hands on you

turns dominant, holding you down, kissing every part of you

"can't believe he thought he had a chance" "fuckin' arsehole thinks he can put his hands on you" "need reminding that you're mine, hmm? is that it?"

you love it when he gets jealous

you're not leaving the bed for hours

he fucks you raw. hard.

your throat is hoarse and your voice is gone by the time he's done

you can barely lift your arms or legs afterwards; they're shaking and sore from his harsh grip on your thighs

his manhandling is rough, but you love it. you submit to it as he pounds into you until the sun peeks through your curtains

graves is who riles him the most on base

especially when he's talking to you

graves has a certain way of annoying ghost but making it seem like an entirely normal conversation to you

just by existing, he gets on ghost's nerves

"you look good in that gear, honey. suits you" was all ghost could hear from the air field

it enraged him completely. everyone saw it. you brushed it off, and saw ghost glaring at the two of you

you smirked, catching his eye. he cocked his head, almost daring you to further this

always quiet when he's jealous

just likes to watch, unless something goes too far. then he steps in

but with this, he wanted until you came to him

you did, an hour later in the armoury. he busied himself cleaning his weapons as you came into the room

you knew that look, the one he gave you

he always gave you that look. whether it was because some man gave you attention, or you flirted for intel undercover, or even if someone looked at you for too long

he didn't speak. he just walked over to you, towering above you while reaching behind your back to lock the door

he liked to make you know that you were his

"letting graves give you all that attention, hmm?" his voice was decibles lower than usual when he was like this. it made your walls clench just hearing it. "that man was looking you up and down like a piece of meat. can't have that, can we?"

liked to hear you cry out his name when he fucked you

can't feel jealous if someone else's name isn't in your mouth, can he?

with each thrust he coaxed you, ordered you to tell him who you belonged to

the table which you sat on rammed into the wall every time his cock pushed deeper and harder into you

his hand on your throat forcing you to look at him, into his eyes, fingerprints bruising into your skin

his hands slapped against your thigh, marking your skin a deep red

never let you cover it up the next day either, you had that shit on show, for all ghost could say

graves steered clear of you after that

as a commanding officer, you trained the rookies

but they were smarmy and smug, often threw comments your way that you learned to brush off without a passing thought

soap had sat in on one of your sessions, watching from under a tent

he watched them whisper about you, watched a few of them gaze at your arse

it made his blood boil

his face could never hide any signs of jealousy. it painted his features like a detailed portrait

they were target shooting, and the few delinquents that couldn't concentrate on anything other than you were poor at their aiming

he liked to prove his worth in situations like this

he took it as a competition, one he knew he could win

you saw him stride over, taking the rifle out of one of the boys hands and taking a stance at the marker

rolling your eyes, you knew this couldn't end well

he'd done this before

a guy tried to flirt with you in a bar once, soap won the fight between them

you were whistled at while driving through the city you lived in, soap smoked him and sped off way ahead of that asshole

he can't back down

he doesn't realise he doesn't need to compete for you. you're already his

soap fires at every target with immediate precision, not even taking a breath between shots

then he tosses the gun back to the rookie with a smug look on his face

"maybe start focusing on the task at hand instead of her, hmm? or else i'll have you off this base before you can blink, boy"

he grinned as he caught your eye, winking before taking his seat back under the shadow of the tent, continuing to watch as though nothing happened

no rookie let their gaze linger on you again after that

he came to visit you at work often when he was home, so he didn't have to stay in the apartment by himself

the little coffee shop was a comforting place for him, the smell of coffee grounds and freshly baked goods always lifting his spirits

you had a co-worker that was always close by your side, but he never thought much of it up till now

you were on your break and made your way over to join him at the table with two coffees in hand

you seemed different, more irked than usual, and your phone wouldn't shut up either, which seemed to piss you off more

it was your co-worker. he learned about the dates he'd asked you on, about whether you wanted to go to his place after work. it'd been happening for weeks, even after you'd said no

gaz said nothing, making his way over to that co-worker

you watched as he leaned over the counter, whispering something to the man that turned his skin pale and his eyes wide

he scurried off to the back room and gaz walked back over to smiling

"what did you say?"

"nothing you haven't already said to him, love"

he pulled your chair closer, kissing the side of your head

he was calm when jealous, to a point where you could barely tell

his jaw never clenched, his gaze never darkened, his body language remained the exact same

but he was always observant, never let anything go too far

but his body language always changed, more tense, more aggravated whenever you became uncomfortable in any situation

he was always by your side in seconds, but never starting a confrontation, just removing you from the scene without causing a fight

like i said, not a man of confrontation

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oracle-of-dream · 29 days

Text

Sweetness #2

Minors DNI

A continuation of Sweetness; Anton caught Sungchan taking advantage of your hypnosis and wants a piece.

Warnings: Male Reader, Big Cocks Riize, Creampie, Standing fuck, Forced entry, Hypnosis, Slight Dubcon, Rough sex

Wordcount: 2.2k

The morning was tense and quiet. You slept the longest, which kept the members shifting between rooms as they avoided the living room.

One by one, they filed into Sungchan's room.

"So now what?" Seunghan asked.

"We just act normal. Nothing happened last night. We just played games, got drunk, and went to bed. That's our story," Sungchan's calmness put order among the chaos in the others.

All except Anton, "Yeah. Nothing happened."

Sungchan raised his eyebrow, "You wanna talk to me about something?"

Anton shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The members awkwardly left the room, trying to go about their morning. The only one who was brave enough to go into the living room was Wonbin. He walked right past you while you slept on the couch, giving the others the courage to do the same. Eventually, everyone started getting brave enough to move around and make noise.

As Sungchan went to his room from the kitchen, Anton pulled him into the bathroom.

"Anton, what the hell?"

"Don't give me that! What the fuck is with you?" Anton whispered.

Sungchan's face morphed into confusion, "What is it?"

"I saw you last night. I know what you did to y/n."

Sungchan's eyes widened, "You can't tell anyone about that." He thought about how you were faking the hypnosis. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard you tell him to suck your cock," Anton whispered even more when saying the last part of the sentence. "It's not fair that you can have free reign over him after preaching that we need to respect him."

"So I should tell everyone to go crazy on him?"

"No… I've got a proposal."

Sungchan raised an eyebrow, "Spit it out."

"I won't tell the others and Y/n what you did if you can buy me some alone time with him," Anton stuck his hand out for a handshake.

"What do you want from him?"

"You know what– We can never bring girls home, and we've barely had time to get around. So if I see my window, why shouldn't I take it?

Sungchan hated the thought of giving you away for Anton, but he had no choice. The members would tear him apart for being such a hypocrite.

"Fine. I'll buy you time," Sungchan shook Anton's hand, sealing the forbidden deal.

The two exit the bathroom just as you stir from your slumber.

Wonbin was watching the news on the TV near you, "Weather says a bad snowstorm is coming. We'll be snowed in together for the next few days."

"Yay! More time with my boys!" You cheered.

Some cheered, but Sungchan felt a knot in his stomach. Something was going to go wrong.

Anton was tingling from the news– More days with you. He couldn't admit it to Sungchan, but he'd always wanted to sleep with you. Even go for something more if you'd let him, but he never had the chance to ask you out before becoming a part of Riize.

You cooked breakfast for the others. You'd brought food since you knew their fridge would be empty, but there was no way it would last the snowstorm. You were going through your ingredients when you heard someone behind you.

The voice whispered, "Sweetie, can we talk in private?" It was Anton. Trying to command you into another room.

You stood, leaving your ingredients on the counter, and followed him as the rest of the boys watched you closely.

Wonbin spoke up, "Where ya headed, y/n?"

"I need to shower. Anton wanted to help me find the towels," You replied with a smile.

Anton was amazed at how fast you lied. Hypnosis was a scary beast.

Sungchan walked into the living room as You and Anton left it. They exchanged looks, and Sungchan started a conversation loud enough to grab everyone's attention. He was planning a trip into the cold before things got too bad.

Anton led you into his room and locked the door behind you. You could see his cock already bulging in his sweatpants.

"O-Okay, now, Sweetness, I want you to undress for me," Anton shifted his weight back and forth nervously.

You had to swallow a smile as you turned away from him to unbutton your shirt and slide your pants off as slowly as possible.

"You can go faster," He said impatiently.

You ignored him, teasing him as your underwear slid down your legs.

As soon as you were naked enough for him, Anton took your hand, guided you to his bed, and sat you down. He handled you rather clumsily, but you tried to Anton’s wants.

"You're like a doll… I wish you were more like you. I like you more that way," He muttered as he sized you up and slid his pants off.

Anton always wore baggy clothes, but he was an athlete through and through. His back was large, with broad shoulders and biceps that made you instantly smile.

"Sweetness. Lay down."

You did.

"How did he cum like this? Did he say something specific?" Anton muttered as he climbed on you, his hand sweeping your neck. He studied your face closely with tenderness, "God, you're beautiful… And for now, you're all mine. I've got it so bad for you, and I'm too much of a coward to tell you." He kissed your lips, "You still love me anyways, even if I'm a coward, right?"

You finally broke character with a big smile, "A coward?"

Anton flinched, "Y-You–" He climbed off you and covered his cock that was shaking in his boxers.

"Me," You smiled as you sat up. You slipped on a button-up shirt on Anton’s bed but left it open. "This is the part where you apologize for trying to take advantage of me," You raised an eyebrow.

"Right. I'm sorry. I wasn't going to do it– It wasn't you…" Anton hung his head with shame.

"Then, how about this? We keep up the illusion for a little longer. Let everyone think I'm under the spell. Everyone is in trouble, but how much depends on them."

Anton nodded, "And if we do that?"

"Well, you came in here to fuck me, right? We have to keep up the game. Or the others will catch on," You laid back down and put your arms out for him. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Don't forget the magic word."

"Sweetness?" Anton questioned.

You raised your eyebrows as you waited for his order.

"We're fucking. Right now. But you have to stay quiet. Any noises from you should be you calling me, Daddy," Anton's chest swelled at Daddy.

"Yes, Daddy," You cooed to him.

He took that as his go-ahead, diving into you. His large frame overtook you as he planted himself between your legs. He was excited, holding you down as his mouth crashed into your lips. Anton forgets how big he is as he watches you strain your neck to meet his lips.

"S-Sorry," He whispered as he lowered himself more.

Now his weight was crushing you, his hands tightly wrapped around your wrists as he threw you around without a care in the world.

"Anton, you're being too rough," You moaned.

"Don't be like that. I know you can handle it. You're Daddy's boy, right?" He lifted your leg onto his shoulder, stretching you as he pushed your leg toward your head. "Oh, so flexible~" He kissed your inner thigh as he lifted your other leg to match.

The stretch of your leg muscles burned, but nothing compared to feeling Anton pushing into you, as was rushing to get to the good part. He fumbled, missing your hole twice before slamming into you fully.

"Oh, holy– Fuck!" You covered your mouth to contain your noises. Your body recoiled as you tried to crawl away from Anton, sliding on your back as his cock slipped out of you.

"Don't run."

"It's too much! You're too big–"

Anton grabbed you by your hips and pulled you back into him, pushing his cock back into you. "You can take it," He rubbed your stomach and squeezed your size to encourage you. "Just breathe."

Anton breathed with you, caressing you as you looked into his eyes. "Sweetness. Stay quiet," He commanded as he lifted you onto him. He looked up at you, your nipples poking at his face, as he smiled, "You look beautiful on me, more than I imagined."

Your hands found their way to land on his shoulders. Anton's still were perched on your hips, pulling you down. Somehow he kept having more dick to shove into you. By the end of it, at least nine inches were inside of you. It was shorter than Sungchan's by two whole inches, but inside you, it didn't make a difference as you felt your brain melting.

"I'm all in. Can you bounce, Sweetness?" Anton asked.

You slithered your fingers into his hair and tugged on it, earning a girlish moan from him. "You shove all that in me and expect me to do the work?"

"N-No, of course not… I was kidding," Anton whinced at the pain of your tugging. But when you let him go, he put your hand back on his head, "Again, please."

You pulled on his hair again, and a more manly groan came out since he was ready this time. He lifted your hips and slammed you down onto him, knocking the air right out of you. The sensation shot up your spine as you saw stars on the ceiling. You couldn't bring your neck to relax enough to look down at Anton, and you pulled harder as he picked up the pace.

Anton told you to be quiet, but he was making more noise than you were. The moans, whimpers, the bed creaking, and the sound of your skin slapping together filled the room.

It was only three hits before you were cumming on Anton's stomach. Your fingers dug into his shoulder, and your voice was barely audible, "Wait, please– I need a second."

"No more waiting, I need to cum too!" Anton stood and carried you as he thrust into you, getting even deeper than earlier. Tears ran down your face from the overstimulation. You couldn't stop moaning and didn't stop as Anton lost his mind, pounding into you fiercely until one hard thrust made him spill into you. His cock shot out so much cum.

You twitched, reeling from every motion as Anton came down from his high. His chest heaved, "Did you survive?"

You couldn't answer– your jaw tightened shut.

"Sweetness? You okay?" Anton's voice was concerned when he realized how much he'd fucked you up.

Your hair was a mess, tear stains on your face, and your ass was spilling cum on the floor. You have bite marks on your neck and bruises on your hips.

"Oh god. Um– Y/n, please don't kill me. Let's get you down," Anton gently laid you on the bed, his cock still inside you. "I'm gonna pull out now, try and bare it." Anton pulled out in one quick motion, earning moans from you and turning you into a shuddering mess as you came again. He bit down his pride as he covered you under his sheet, "You lay here. I'll get towels and more clothes for you."

Anton left the room, turning the light off behind him as he slipped his shirt over his head. He fixed his hair and pants and straightened his back before entering the living room.

Seunghan and Eunseok were sitting at the table, staring at him.

"Really?" Seunghan spat.

"What?"

Eunseok jumped in, "Don't you think we could hear that? You weren't even trying to be quiet."

"You're lucky Sungchan convinced the others to try and run to the store with him to get more ingredients. We stayed back," Seunghan looked at Anton fiercely. "Let's talk, Anton."

Anton sat down at the table, "You can't tell the others!"

"You're not in the position to tell us that! You broke the agreement. We all said we'd respect y/n, not fuck him."

"Sungchan broke it first!" Anton wanted to take it back as soon as he said it, but it was too late.

"Explain."

Anton explained what he'd seen the night before between you and Sungchan. Eunseok and Seunghan could hardly believe that he was such a hypocrite.

"Well, if you two can get a pass. Then we're getting on too," Seunghan laughed. "And I know we won't get caught like you two idiots. And you’ll help us, Anton."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we'll tell y/n and the others. Sungchan will kill you for ratting him out. The others will kill you for fucking y/n. And y/n will kill us all for hypnotizing him, but you more because you took advantage of him."

Anton held in his smirk, knowing that you were testing everyone else. He didn't like the thought that everyone might make an attempt on you, but he couldn't ruin your plan. Especially if that meant he'd get to fuck you again.

"Okay, I'll help. But help me clean y/n up before the others get here."

Eunseok and Seunghan looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

Eunseok leaned in, "We'll handle that. Just get towels. We're going to take a shower."

Anton ran off to get the towels, trying not to get hard again as he thought about the both of them fucking you.

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #anton riize #riize x reader #riize anton #riize smut #riize #x male reader #kpop male idol #kpop male reader #male reader #x reader #riize x y/n #anton x reader #anton smut

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 6 months

Text

Kinktober (30)- Rough Sex

Dark Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: During work, you notice something weird about the people and the town you live in. You confess this worry to Wanda who ensures you find a way to forget about the doubts surrounding Westview

Warnings/Tags: Dark Wanda, Dubious consent, Rough sex, Fingering, Oral, Strap on sex, Multiple orgasms, Squirting, Westview/Wandavision inspired

Kinktober Masterlist

“How was your day Detka?” Wanda asked, one of her hands drawing random patterns on your thigh as you both watched the sitcom playing on the tv. Your mind went back to the events that had happened throughout today, blurs and flashes of various events eventually coming to mind as you struggled to remember anything.

“It was alright love,” you murmur back, placing your hand above hers, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. “Although something weird did happen,” your brows furrow at the sudden flash in your mind, the conversation you and Norm had during the day. Wanda’s interest was piqued at your confused tone, curiosity evident in her features as she looked at you. “Norm was acting odd, he looked scared for a moment.”

“What do you mean he seemed scared?” her hand moved to cup your jaw, guiding your face to hers.

“He….” you try to remember fully what happened, “He just kept saying it hurts, it hurts so much, please make her stop.” Too lost in your memory you fail to notice the slight paling of Wanda’s face, concern taking over her features. “Then he just stopped, went back to normal asking me about the emails,” your gaze met Wanda’s, a soft look in them until your next words. “Who was he on about?”

Green eyes darkened at your question, her quickly switching it to a gentle look as you furrowed your brows at her sudden change in mood.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about Detka,” she rasps out, guiding your face closer for a kiss to which you pull away from quickly.

“He seemed terrified Wanda, we can’t just ignore that,” your tone one Wanda didn’t appreciate.

“I said it’s nothing to worry about Detka,” her voice was colder than before. “Don’t stress over it,” she whispers before claiming your lips once again, threading her fingers through your hair to keep you close so you can’t pull away, legs moving to straddle your waist on the sofa. Wanda let out a soft moan against your lips, smirking when she could hear your thoughts about Norm and his fear fading away, lust and desire for her clouding your mind, especially when she started to roll her hips against you. “Just focus on me Detka, I’ll take care of you,” she husks out, you groaning into her kiss as she deepens it, sliding her tongue into your mouth to dominate it, her hands tugging your head back to make it easier for her to crash her lips to yours.

“Wanda,” you sigh out, fluttering your eyes open to see red in hers when your thoughts drift back to earlier.

“Focus on me Detka,” she repeats, you unaware of the red tendrils escaping her fingers at the side of your head. You listen to her, moving back to crash your lips to hers, hands drifting down her body, sliding under her shirt and up to cup her breasts. She smirks into the kiss, tugging your head back to make you part from her swollen lips. “Bedroom,” she sighs out, you immediately lifting her off the sofa and towards your shared room, lips attaching to her neck while soft moans and whimpers escape her.

When you reach the room, you place her down on the bed, lips moving to crash against hers again as her legs wrap around your middle, flipping you both around. She straddles you with hunger and desire swirling around in her eyes, briefly flashing red before she moves to rip your shirt off your body. You groan as she removes her own shirt, breasts practically spilling out of her bra while she leans over you, biting down on your neck.

“Fuck Wanda,” you moan out, hands going to touch her but immediately being forced above your head but red tendrils of magic.

“You’re mine Detka,” she mutters against your skin, mouth trailing lower on your body, skipping past your breasts and going straight down to your core, too impatient to drive you mad with her touch tonight, she just needed you. “All mine,” she whispers, biting down on your hip bone before pulling your jeans and panties down your legs, whimpers escaping you as you let her do as she wishes. Her mouth peppers kisses along your inner thighs, her eyes peering up to yours squeezed shut, mouth parted into an ‘o’ shape as breathy sounds escape you. “I’m all you need, aren’t I Detka?” she murmurs, her finger moving to swipe through your folds, running through the abundance of arousal that's gathered there.

“Yes,” you moan out, her sliding a long slender digit into you while her mouth moves to suck on your clit, tongue occasionally swirling around it to have your hips bucking against her face. “I just need you,” she smirks against your core at your words, her adding another finger, then another as she starts to pump them into you at a brutal pace. Your back arches off the bed at the merciless pace of her fingering you, her mouth unrelenting on your clit as you try to grind against her face. “Wanda, right there,” your hands grip whatever part of the sheets you can reach with her magic wrapped around you, her curling her fingers inside you against your weak spots, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips.

“Tell me you only need me,” she rasps out, you whimper as she somehow manages to fuck you even harder.

“I only need you, Wanda,” the phrase falls from your lips like a prayer, chanting it to her to make sure she knows that you would only ever need her. “I’m coming,” you practically scream as she sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through your body, mind going blank just how she wants it. You don’t have time to recover as she continues to thrust her fingers into her, her other hand holding your hips down and stopping them from bucking. “Oh fuck,” you groan out when a second orgasm tears through you, her moving away to climb back up your body. Her lips meet yours, a whimper leaving you at the taste of yourself before a loud moan reverberates around the room at the feeling of a strap on pushing against your entrance.

“Are you going to take this like a good girl?” she muttered against your lips, red magic fading around the conjured-up toy. You nod against her head, foreheads touching but that’s not enough for her, “Words Detka.”

“Yes, I’ll take it like the good slut I am for you,” you whine, her then finally pushing into you. Wanda lets you adjust to the size before snapping her hips into you, her fingers interlocking with your restrained ones. Moans pour out of your mouth as she pounds you into the mattress, the bed shaking with each powerful thrust. She pants against your lips, an occasional grunt leaving her lips as she pumps the toy in and out at you with long, hard and deep strokes. Your back arches as she hits your g-spot repeatedly, a sinful noise erupting from the back of your throat making her stop kissing you as you can’t keep up. Her eyes flicker down to the sight of the red toy being swallowed up by your greedy cunt, your arousal glistening off it when she pulls out before slamming back in.

Tears form in your eyes at the pleasure, your body trembling beneath her as she thrusts into you, her mouth kissing along your neck when you throw your head back.

“Oh Detka,” she coos, almost condescendingly as one hand moves to wipe the tears that have just spilt down your cheeks, smearing your makeup, “You’re being so good for me, so good.” You whimper at the small praise, moving your head up to kiss her lips as another orgasm starts to crash through you. You still under her as your body is overwhelmed with pleasure, liquid gushing out of you as you squirt all over the toy, ragged breaths leaving you as you go limp under the witch.

You open your eyes a few moments later, still in a daze of pure bliss after that orgasm, mind foggy with only the thought of Wanda. Her hands soothingly roam your body, magic releasing her hold on you as she pulls you into her lap, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m all you need,” she murmurs once again, “You don’t need to worry about the others, you don’t need them. Just me, only me.”

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

////

SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

#eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #roommate!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

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luckycharms1701 · 3 months

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Just read Mikey’s mating season, would write one for Raphael?

of course i will, anything for our boy in red! i will say that bay raph in particular is hard for me to write, so i hope this is decent

again, it's a lil spicyyy 🌶️ reader beware!

The first time it's brought up, Raph absolutely refuses to allow you to spend his season with him. Won't even have the conversation. Not even Mikey can convince him to just talk to you. It takes a literal act of God to force him into it- stranded in your apartment together while a late snowstorm rages, just as his season is starting.

Raph is naturally afraid that he will hurt you. But what he doesn't tell you is that he is afraid of the vulnerability. Raph's season is a highly emotional time for this passionate guy. He knows that he'll be more open- generally the first sign that his season is starting is when he admits something to one of his brothers that he doesn't actually want them to know. So forced into close quarters with you, alone- he's afraid of what he'll say, afraid that the depths of his feelings will drive you off.

He is shocked that when the time comes, his anger doesn't overwhelm him the way it normally does. Instead, it is his love for you that takes over. He finds himself feeling incredibly affectionate. He even chirps for you. (Once it's over he's mortified and you have to swear that you'll never tell anyone ever). The sadness he associates with this time? Again, all gone, because you're here.

The cuddling is real and it is. Frequent. Raph doesn't like to let you go and will often carry you around if you need to move from the bed. But good luck getting him to agree to let you leave the bed. He likes you there and he does not want you to leave. Surely he can go get whatever you need? You belong in his arms, as far as he is concerned.

So, Raph. Once you get him on board, he has rules. These are non-negotiable, because not following them could possibly result in him hurting you and that Will Not Happen. The biggest rule is that you cannot tease him. Teasing riles him up like nothing else and if he loses control and hurts you... no. It Won't Happen. He'll lock himself in a different room and take care of himself before he'll let you break one of his rules.

However, that doesn't mean that it's not a good time for both of you. It's hard at first, because Raph is so afraid to let go, but once he does? Once all that passion is set free and focused on you? It is absolutely some of the most intense lovemaking you've ever experienced in your life. And that's what it is- lovemaking.

All of Raph's affection and tender feelings take over, and he is intense but so gentle at the same time. When it's not mating season, he can be rough sometimes, although never more than you can handle. Not so during mating season. Even when he's pounding into you, driving you wild as you writhe under him, he doesn't hurt you. The only bruises you come out with are in the shape of his hands on your hips.

He is surprisingly quiet when he fucks you. Everything in him is so focused on you that he barely notices his own pleasure. He does chirp a lot, and when it happens the churring practically vibrates the whole bed. He prefers to draw sounds out of you instead. There is a certain dark chuckle he gives that warns you that you are about to get loud. He loves to quiet down so he can catch the nearly silent gasp that comes out of you when his fingers hit that spot deep in you.

He becomes an anxious mother hen when it's over. He hovers. It's a little maddening but he needs you to indulge. He needs to be able to make sure that you're okay, that he didn't hurt you. He is of course worried for no reason, you're fine. But he's still a little cuddly, so you enjoy indulging him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

#bayverse raph #bayverse raph x reader #tmnt #talking tag #theory tag #mating season #say it together now: SOFT RAPH SOFT RAPH SOFT RAPH #sorry if you were expecting something a little spicier. that'll come don't you worry #i just can't see raph allowing himself to be rough when he's not in complete control #i'm not 100% happy with this but i never feel completely happy when i write raph #so i hope it's okay

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boydepartment · 3 months

Text

process- idol!park sunghoon x surgeon!reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was requested by @isawritesss i hope you like it <3

request: can i please ask for a very angsty idol!sunghoon x surgeon gf!reader where they get into a very big argument and she was already having a bad day at the ICU cause she had to perform a surgery on this lil kid and her mind wasn't in the right place and just needed him :( with comfort in the end like idk why but imma obsessed with angst and hurt comfort.

warnings: I AM NOT A DOCTOR but i tried my best into focusing more on the emotions side. i am not a stem student either SO I REALLY TRIED MY BEST i have no connection to work or training in this field!!! angst to comfort obviously. the reader and sunghoon use strong language but it’s all okay in the end

wc- 250-300 words

MASTERLIST

your day was rough to say the least. work was stressful and even if you helped save people’s lives you can also lose a couple in the process.

sometimes it’s too much and it hurts your mental even if you loved your job. it’s a lot a pressure.

today was exactly like that.

when you got home you saw that sunghoon was already home, smiling now because you barely get to see him home you wanted to talk to him.

“hey i didn’t know you were getting home early today?” you went to the fridge, turning around to see the back of his head unmoving.

“yeah.”

you took out a water bottle and opened it, “rough day?”

“yes.”

you walked over to the couch and sat next to him, “i’m sorry, my love.” you went to put your hand over his and he moved his hand.

sunghoon got like this sometimes but would normally just say he needed a breather and walk to your shared room for a bit.

he was usually good at talking to you.

“do you want a breather?” your voice was quiet.

sunghoon looked at you, “fucking obviously y/n. have i tried making any conversation with you since you got home?”

you looked at him, eyes narrowing, you were not going to take this after today, “maybe say that then! don’t act like it’s my fault! god forbid i talk to my boyfriend who’s barely fucking home!” you stood up and went to your shared bedroom slamming the door.

the stress from the day crashed with you when your knees and fits hit the floor. you started to weep quietly. not taking in the footsteps approaching the door.

“y/n?” sunghoon’s voice called out through the door, followed by soft knocks.

you stood up and wiped your face, “i don’t want to talk to you right now. you wanted to be left alone didn’t you?” you were hurt and your voice was evident in that fact. your feet carried you to the bathroom and you got changed as well as showered and washed up.

when you walked back into the shared bedroom you saw sunghoon sitting on your bed, you didn’t lock the door as that was a rule in your household. communication always came first.

he sat there looking defeating at his feet, “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to snap at you and it was my bad.”

you were about to speak but he spoke first

“i should’ve asked about your day and told you that i needed a bit.” he looked at you, “i disrespected you and im sorry.”

you walked over to him and sat down next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder and snaking your hand in his, “i accept your apology.”

“was your day okay?” sunghoon whispered, playing with your hands.

you shook your head no, “it… was really bad…” your voice broke again, sunghoon almost immediately pulled you down further into the bed and held you against him.

“i’m sorry… do you want to talk about it?”

you shook your head no, “maybe after i process it more…”

sunghoon nodded, “take as much time as you need okay?”

you nodded and kissed his jawline leaning into him more, his grip on your waist tightening, “tell me about yours i need a distraction.”

sunghoon sucked in a breath, “it was just a lot of work, we made progress though, um an engene broke into the company building, we went out to-“

“WHAT?” you sat up and looked at him. he started laughing and pulled you down to him.

“i’m lying. did it make you laugh though?”

you smacked his chest, “you’re horrible! i actually believed you!” your lips curled up and he took the opportunity to kiss you.

“i love you so much, i promise what happened earlier won’t happen again.” he whispered, “my job as your boyfriend is to keep you smiling.”

you nodded and kissed him again, “you can always talk to me too… i love you too…”

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gilverrwrites · 3 months

Text

Takeout Tuesday

Pairing: Human!Castiel/Fem!Reader (Season 9)

Reader has AFAB body parts, hair long enough for pulling, & feminine pronouns’ are used.

A follow-up/sequel too If you will have me, I am yours. But can 100% be read as a stand alone.

Plot: The reader fulfills Castiel's fantasy of reenacting a porno he once watched. (AKA Clarence the pizza-man & the babysitter)

Rating: M/18+

Words: 3138 (all smut)

Content: Porn without plot, roleplaying, Dominate Cas, cheesy porno dialogue, kitchen sex, dirty talk, degradation, name-calling, rough sex, hair pulling, spanking, clothed man/naked woman, teasing, doggy-style, denial/edging, oral (female receiving), bodily fluids, size difference (slightly), begging, choking, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, swearing.

Excerpt: You force yourself not to cringe at the cheesy dialogue as you make your offer; “Maybe I could pay you with my body?” “That would be acceptable.” He responds curtly, taking a decisive step forward, into the doorframe of your shared apartment.

You checked the time on your phone; 19:45. It was Takeout Tuesday, and Cas should be home any minute. Normally he’d be home by 2, and it was your job to pick up dinner after your own shift finished at 6. But someone had no call, no showed, and ever the Samaritan; Cas had stayed late to help out. He’d called you on his break to let you know he would be home late, and that he would grab food on the way back.

The sound of knocking on your front door made you jump. Careful to remain quiet, you made your way over, stopping to grab your gun on the way. Carefully you pressed the firearm to the door and leaned up to look through your peephole. Hunter instincts never really die.

Relieved and confused, you lower the gun and unlock the door, finding Cas on the other side. Your confusion only increased as you realised he was not dressed in his normal button-up and blue vest. Instead, he was dressed in a red and black polo and cap, and holding two large pizza boxes, all bearing the logo of your local pizza shop.

“Cas, I… I don’t know what to ask first.” You wondered aloud. “Where are your keys? Why are you dressed like that?”

“I do not understand.” Cas stated, tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes. You would almost believe him, were it not for the quiver in the corner of his lip. He was holding back a smile. “My name is Clarence. I am here to deliver your pizzas.”

“Ooooh, right!” You nod hesitantly, a smile sneaking onto your face. You recall a conversation about sexual fantasies, in which Cas had expressed wanting to reenact a porno he’d once seen in which a babysitter had paid for pizza with sexual favours. You stepped back into your hall, simultaneously returning your gun to its designated spot, and pretending to search for your purse. Purposefully arching your back and sticking your out your ass as you acted out searching through drawers and countertops.

“I’m really sorry, Clarence.” You say, trying to make your voice sound airy and sexy; rejecting the urge to laugh at yourself. You return to the door where you begin to trail your hand up your body slowly, directing Cas’s eyes over your curves as you move upward until you loop a finger in your hair and begin twirling it. “I don’t have any money to pay you.”

“That is unfortunate.” Cas responds. His tone is serious and deliberate, but the pink in his cheeks, the way he sucked in his lips, and the growing bulge in his pants told you he was enjoying himself.

“Maybe I could pay you another way?” You ask, batting your lashes at him as you continue to play with your hair. You internally pray no neighbours are passing through to overhear you.

“What would that be?” He asks, unable to prevent himself from nodding, urging you to continue in your little roleplay.

You grin at him, leaning forward and fiddling with the top of your shirt, pulling it down to try and expose some of your cleavage. You force yourself not to cringe at the cheesy dialogue as you make your offer; “Maybe I could pay you with my body?”

“That would be acceptable.” He responds curtly, taking a decisive step forward, into the doorframe of your shared apartment.

You briefly contemplate teasing him, telling him to leave the pizza and come back later, once you’d put the imaginary children you were supposed to be babysitting to bed. But the thought passed quickly, he might actually play along, and you were horny, and hungry, but mostly horny. You did not want to wait.

“Please, come in.” You tell him, stepping back to allow him full access. He quickly passes you. The apartment is small, the front door leads directly into a joined kitchen and living room. The only other rooms are your bedroom and the bathroom. In a few strides, Cas is already standing in the kitchen area where he deposits the pizza boxes on the counter and turns to watch you. You stare right back, taking him in. His shirt is just slightly too tight, drawing attention to the shape of his chest. His arms look thick and strong protruding out of the too-small sleeves. Heat tingles through your body as you watch him cup himself over his jeans, readjusting his growing erection.

“Do you like what you see?” He asks you, his lips stretching into a mischievous smirk.

You nod, locking the door and following him into the kitchen. As you approach, he reaches for you, his hands firmly wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. A hand snakes under your shirt, and you enjoy his warm, gentle touch as he slides it up your spine, guiding your upper body in close so he can plant his lips on yours.

It starts slow and tentative. The brim of his cap rubs against your head as he delicately ghosts his mouth against yours. The kiss quickly grows heated, his lips pressing ever harder against yours. Knees growing weak, you grab onto his shoulders as you open your mouth up for him to explore, and in return his other hand cups the back of your head, locking you in place as he delves his tongue into you.

You trail one hand down his chest until you reach his belt and begin to unbuckle him. He groans into your mouth, savouring the moments before clamping a hand around yours and pulling you away. Pouting, you break away from the kiss to look up at him. He returns your questioning gaze with a stern one. He places one last kiss on your lips before locking his fist in your hair and pulling you away from him.

“If you behave, I might give you what you want, but right now you have a job to do.” He taunts, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but he beats you to the punch, releasing your hair as he instructs you. “Take off your clothes.”

“Yes sir!” You respond before correcting yourself. “Yes Clarence.”

Castiel hums appreciatively as he watches you undress. Unable to keep his hands off you, he begins assisting. Making quick work of your bra and kicking your jeans across the floor once you get them off. Your face grows hot as he holds you in place, his eyes unabashedly raking across your body, taking in every inch of you.

“How would you like to use my body?” You question.

“I want to kiss every inch of it.” He answers matter-of-factly before doing just that. Pushing your back against the kitchen counter he starts pressing passionate, open-mouthed kisses against your jawline, his tongue traces over your skin as he works his way down your neckline, over your collar, your chest. He holts momentarily over your breasts, giving them extra attention. He catches a nipple between his lips and rolls his tongue against it. Your body jerks at the sensation, and his muffled laugh serves to fuel the sensation. Strong fingers replace his lips, both hands roaming your body before attaching to your breasts as he lowers his head further.

“Hmmm, you like that?" He asks as he drops to his knees and you let out a breathy pant in response. You’re rapidly losing composure as he peppers more kisses over your stomach, and hips. The rough texture of his hat brushes your thighs as he situates himself between your legs. His breath is warm against your core, and you thrust yourself closer to him. He places one last chase kiss on your folds before leaning back to look up at your flushed face.

His hands release your chest and gesture to the small dining table in the centre of the kitchen area. “Bend over.”

You’re barely able to open your mouth to complain before he interrupts. “Don’t whine. Do as you’re told.”

You remain silent as you follow his order. Unable to refrain from frowning at him while you cross the small space and angle your body against the table. Cas is on you before you’re able to finish adjusting yourself. He slips his feet between yours to nudge your legs apart. Firm hands settle in on the curve of your back, directing you to arch your rear out.

“You have been a very naughty babysitter.” He growls.

You wiggle your ass at him as you respond. “Are you going to punish me?”

You hear the slap of his hand coming down on your ass cheek before you feel the sting.

“Yes.” His voice is solemn, and you barely have time to think of a response before his hand comes down on you again. You moan out in pain and unconsciously clench your hands around the edge of the table as you brace yourself for the next hit. Cas hesitates slightly, taking a moment to caress your reddening skin before reeling back to deliver another smack. You moan out again and again with each blow. Your head growing fuzzy, unable to think of anything but the heat pooling between your legs, and the stinging of your butt.

When Cas pokes two fingers between your folds you flinch, not expecting the sensation. He runs his fingers up and down, collecting the wetness before retreating. Lazily you stretch your neck back to watch as he brings them close to his face for inspection. You expect him to taste it, he’s never been shy about his affinity for your wetness or cum before, so you’re surprised when he looks over at you with a devious glint.

“I think you’re enjoying this too much.” He says as he leans over your slumped frame and presses his fingers to your lips. Following his lead, you open up, allowing him to push his fingers into your mouth, to rub your wetness against your tongue. It's sharp and bitter, but you close your mouth around him and suck until his fingers leave your mouth without wet pop. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

That felt like a trick question. Any semblance of an answer is immediately lost when you feel him grind his crotch against your backside. When you don’t respond, he continues. “Do you like this? Being bent over, and spanked like a filthy whore?”

The words sound so outlandish, coming out of Cas’s mouth. Castiel, (former) angel of the lord, calling you a whore. Outlandish, but so fucking hot.

Unsure if he’s warning, or chastising you, he pulls his body back and lands another strike on your cheek.

“Fuck. Yes!” You cry, jolting back, pushing your ass against his crotch again.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I like it!” You stare forward, unsure if you could look at him without breaking again. “I like being spanked like a filthy whore.”

Castiel rewards you by placing a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. His voice is hoarse as he leans up and whispers. “Then we shall have to find another way to discipline you.”

You might regret asking, but that doesn’t stop you. “What did you have in mind?”

Strong arms lift you; Cas turns you to face him and paces you back onto the table in a seated position before dropping to his knees and maneuvering your legs over his shoulders.

“Keep your hands behind your back.” He instructs, and the moment your arms are locked behind you he delves in, dislodging his cap along the way. He presses his tongue flat against your clit and licks at it mercilessly. A finger inches up your thigh, and circles your entrance before plunging in.

You want nothing more than to grip his hair, to use it for purchase as you rub your cunt against him, but you can’t. The added challenge of remaining positioned only adds to your growing frustration. The synchronised feel of his finger fucking into you, and his tongue lapping at your sweet-spot has you panting.

“Holy fuck. Don’t stop, please.” You muster, trying and failing to buck in rhythm with him. “That feels so good Cas, Cas, Ca- Clarence.”

He murmurs something incomprehensible between your lips and the vibration has you coming undone. Your muscles seize, your legs shoot out, and your head rolls back as you approach your climax. No sooner has it started when Cas pulls back, releasing you completely.

Your mouth falls open, ready to ask him why he stopped, ready to beg him to come back, to finish you off but all that escapes your lips is a frustrated groan.

“Don’t worry.” Cas assures you, re-adjusting his hat as he stands up. His arousal is evident from his blown-out pupils and the playful smile on his lips. He cups your face between his hands and pulls you in to rest a kiss on your hairline. You don’t miss the chuckle he tries to suppress. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“Are you going to fuck me, Mr Pizza-man?” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Please?”

“You would enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” It’s not really a question. “You’d like me to bend you over again and stretch you out like a needy slut. You’d liked like me to fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?”

You shiver at his words and reach up for him, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer.

“Yes.” You speak between languid kisses to his jaw, and neck. “Please, please Clarence. I would do anything to feel your cock inside me.”

“I thought you might. You naughty girl.” He states, grasping your wrists and pulling you away from him. “Turn around.”

It’s an order, but you needn’t act. Using your arms and hips for purchase Cas flips you back over. Fresh waves of excitement shoot through your body as you hear his belt and zipper opening. Your breath hitches when you feel the head of his cock at your entrance. He doesn’t make you wait for it, pushing through your lips and bottoming out in seconds. A low moan escapes him as he does so.

“You don’t cum until I say so.” He commands as you both adjust. The feel of his dick stretching your walls out makes you feel lightheaded. You whimper your response and begin rocking your hips, urging him to start fucking you. Your motion is halted when you feel his hand in your hair. With little warning, your head is whipped back. “Your body is mine. I will decide when and how to use it. You’ll be fortunate if I let you cum at all. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You answer hastily, you suspect you look like a deer in the headlights.

“Since you seem to want this so badly, beg for it.” You’re not sure which is more telling to your enjoyment of his dominance. The way your pussy twitches around him, or the involuntary cry you let out.

“Please… Please Mr Pizza-man, use my pussy.” You begin, through shaky breaths. The excruciatingly slow pump of his body pushing against yours encourages you to keep going. “Use me however you please, I want you, I want to make you cum.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Cas pulls back and slams back into you harshly, hand still firmly latched in your hair, keeping you in place as he begins pounding into you, riding you from behind.

Still on edge from his previous assault, it isn’t long before you felt an orgasm approaching again.

Knowing you won’t be able to fend it off for long you speak up. The jolt of Castiel’s thrusts causes your words to be punctuated by involuntary moans. “Cas, I’m. so. close. Please, I’m. gonna- “

“Not yet.” He barks. A moment later he tightens his grip on your hair, forcing you further back until you're close enough for him to lock a hand around your neck.

Fingers squeeze either side of your throat and you fear you’ll lose your resolve any second.

For stability, and to try to distract yourself from the growing tension in your cunt, you hold onto his arm. As if determined to make you suffer, Cas slows his speed, focusing on deliberate, torturous thrusts that fill you up and hit all the right places.

Gurgled cries fall from your lips, attempts to beg for your release, but nothing is intelligible. Unable to move, to breathe, or to think straight, all you can think of is the orgasm you’re barely holding at bay. The pressure of your fingers around the arm holding you by your neck is sure to leave bruises. And then it happens.

“Now.” He releases his grip on your hair and slides his hand to your folds, erratically pawing until he finds your clit.

You didn’t really need the extra assistance. You fall apart in an instant, your walls convulsing around his cock, as your body rides the high. Your already tingling, pulsing cunt tightens when you feel the warmth of Castiel’s cum spilling inside you. Low, lethargic hums leave his chest as his thrusts grow sluggish and strained.

Spent and panting, Cas lets his hands relax, electing to rest them on your waist as he pulls you in, back to his chest for an embrace. His softening cock dislodges as you move together, and you feel his cum trickle out. You elect to ignore it for now, enjoying the hug, and the delicate kisses he places to the back of your head.

“Do you understand why the pizza-man spanked the babysitter now?” You asked.

The rumble in Cas’s chest as he laughs tickles your skin. “Yes. That was exceedingly enjoyable. How was it for you?”

“That was, amazing.” You concede, turning in his arms until you’re able to rest your face against his chest. He’s smiling down at you, blue eyes filled with admiration. “I should order pizza from Clarence more often.”

“If that is what you want.” Now that he has a clear view of it, you can see him examining your neck. You’ve no doubt it’s still red, but you doubt it’ll be bruised, at least, not half as much as your ass. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“Good idea.” You reach up onto your toes and kiss him on the lips. On impulse, you also decide to steal the godforsaken cap from his head and place it on your own before backing towards the bathroom. “Put those pizzas in the oven to reheat, then meet me in the bedroom?”

Cas nods, seemingly unbothered by your thievery as he watches you go. You’ll have to ask him where he got the costume from later. You ask him one last question as you reach the bathroom door. “So, was there ever a sequel to this porno?”

#castiel x reader #castiel reader insert #castiel #supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #castiel smut #castiel fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #human castiel/reader #human castiel #gilverrwrites

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

Remus saying i love you for the first time

thank you for requesting!🖤

You knew you loved Remus Lupin very early in your relationship.

Even if you never said it out loud, you felt it and you tried to show it through your actions rather than your words. You would always make his tea in the mornings during breakfast whilst he buttered some toast for the two of you. You would leave little notes with compliments tucked between the pages of his books. You would let him rest his head on your lap, your fingers tickling across his back in a way that you knew always relaxed him.

It was small, subtle acts that helped show your love for your boyfriend. Little did you know that it was those very acts that made him fall deeply in love with you.

It hit him at such a random, mundane moment.

The common room was quiet with most younger students already in bed and the older students having snuck off to some party being held by the Hufflepuffs in the greenhouses. But it had been a few days since the full moon and Remus didn’t have it in him to go out tonight. He had told you to go have some fun with your friends, that he would be fine on his own. But you just rolled your eyes, muttering something about how funny he was before you settled down on the couch beside him.

You had been leaning back against his chest, sat between his legs with his arms wrapped around you. You had a book laid on your lap, one that he had been wanting to read for a while but hadn’t been able to find in the library.

“Where did you find it?” Remus murmured in surprise, lifting his head from where he had been resting it in the crook of your neck. “I checked this morning, it wasn’t there.”

“I have my ways, Lupin, don’t underestimate me,” you teased lightly, only to receive a light pinch to your hip.

Remus raised his brows. “Keeping secrets now, love?”

“I was in Hogsmeade the other day with some of the girls, saw it in a shop and got it for you,” you answered casually with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You said you wanted to read it for a while now so I wanted to get it for you.”

His eyes softened. “You got it for me?”

“Yeah,” you turned your head and gave him a smile. “Thought it would be a nice present after the other night, I know the full moon was rough this month.”

It hit Remus there and then that he wasn’t really used to such nice deeds. It had been ingrained into his head since the accident that politeness and acts of kindness weren’t something he should expect in his life. He was different, he would be treated as different as well.

He thought the marauders were an anomaly in his life, that he was just somehow lucky enough to find friends that felt like his brothers and it wasn’t something he should have expected more of. And then he met you and he knew your feelings for him were true, but there was always a doubt in the back of his head that you’d eventually realise what you could have with someone else—with someone normal—and leave him.

And yet whilst he was out here having his doubts, there you were going out of your way to remember a book he briefly mentioned in conversation and buying it for him whilst you were out because you knew it would make him happy, because you wanted to get it for him, because you cared about him.

“I love you,” Remus breathed out, and if the common room wasn’t silent, you would have thought you misheard him.

Your lips parted in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated a little louder and a little more sure of himself. His voice was thick with emotion, so many unspoken thoughts shared with those three words as he looked you in the eye and spoke them to you.

A wide grin slowly broke out across your face. “I love you too,” you murmured happily, like it was the easiest thing you could ever do before you leaned closer to kiss him.

It was a slow kiss, the words lingering between you as you just enjoyed the embrace of each other. It didn’t last long, maybe because of the position or maybe because neither one of you could stop smiling, but it was the most perfect kiss you shared.

“I don’t deserve you,” Remus murmured as he pulled you further into his chest, his arms squeezing around you and removing any possibility of you sliding away from his hold, as if you ever wanted to.

“You deserve the world, Remus,” you whispered back to him, your words thick with sincerity. “And I plan to show you that every single day.”

453 notes · View notes

lynnlovesthestars · 3 months

Text

"Let me show you how this will benefit you".

For @ask-althaearoserun ❤

Pairing: Gortash x fem!OC (Althaea).

Genre: smut.

Warnings: dub-con (kinda since there's coercion), unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem! recieving, possessive Enver, improper use of throne and throne room, edging, orgasm denial, improper use of golden gauntlet, creampie, slight dumb-fucking, rough sex overrall.. if i missed anything let me know. author regrets nothing. Kind of semi-public sex. Slight power-play, implied ownership. spoiler for act 3.

Synopsis: He's got a proposal she can't refuse.

WC: 4.7k

AN: hello, it took me a while to get through this piece for Skull but a month later i finallydelivered it. With her consent I'm posting it- since her OC is out protag tonight-. Nevertheless let me know what you think, lots of love, lynn.

Wyrm's Rock was obnoxiously calm as they reached the bridge that allowed them into the fortress.

"Lord Gortash is expecting you, please make your way to the audience chamber." The steel watch repeated and repeated until they had stepped past the doors of the audience hall. They were surprised that they’d let them in so easily, yet they obliged seen their insistence without questioning too much the new rules of the fortress.

The audience hall was packed with royalty and steel watchers as Gortash was idly eyeing the door, awaiting for the last invited guests.

Them.

Enver had insisted on having them attend, not only to let them know who they were going against and the power he held, but also because he had heard so much about Althaea. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the infamous slayer that took down Ketheric, though his first glance at her left him genuinely confused: he knew he could have her wrapped around his gauntlet before even getting to speak with her and her companions.

She was small, clearly a nuisance, compared to him and his grandiose presence in the room; in a normal setting, she would have passed unnoticed, but in the middle of royalty, she stood out.

Nevertheless, his focus was on the ceremony- though Karlach and her troupe didn't agree. The tiefling was furiously throttling towards him, seething and burning. He knew that the steel watch would not have been enough against her, and that it would have sent the wrong message to the masses present at the ceremony,

“A moment please, my friends- an old acquaintance has come to pay her respects." He mused as he took a step forward, descending the stairs. "Please, Karlach, come say a proper hello.” He said with a smile painted full of faux friendliness. His voice was clearly sweetened for the audience they had as he stepped towards her himself.

“My respects? You are lucky I’ve agreed to not shove my boot up your-” Karlach roared before he interrupted her with distaste.

“Ah how I missed your colorful turn of phrase.” He twirled his hand dismissively. “We must catch up as soon as I’ve had words with your little friend.” He uncaringly ignored the tiefling and glanced towards Althaea with dark eyes, clearly hiding something behind them.

“As for you, I shall congratulate.” He gave her a small bow of his head. “Thorn’s defeat has not passed unnoticed; shall I say thanks to that Netherstone you carry and for your astonishing fighting abilities”. He said with his honeyed voice. “Pleasure to meet you” He gave her a small bow with her head, politeness first, persuasion later.

He had wondered how she’d rudely introduce herself, telling him to fuck off or hells knows what, yet the moment she opened her pretty mouth, she sounded anything like the gruesome descriptions of her persona he had heard.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Lord Gortash.” She put up her best smile, concealing her mild disgust at the closeness with him. She could feel the bile forming in the back of her mouth already.

“I believe we have something rather important to discuss.” He pressed his hands together and cracked his fingers, readying for the extenuating and boring conversation they were going to have. “Indeed” She nodded, looking at his movements in case he’d rush a movement.

The conversation went on between Gortash trying to gauge how much they had known and Althaea respectfully grunting and nodding as he went on and on.

It felt for her as if he was trying to stroke her mind as he spoke, keeping her in the loop of the conversation yet leaving behind chunks of information he didn't want to reveal yet.

It was only at the end that he finally seemed to take a step closer to his objective, finally poking at their only protection against the absolute.

“That prism of yours won’t last indefinitely.” He said sternly while he crossed his arms apprehensively. “Next there's the grand design. Though I suppose that if we come to an agreement, this fate can be avoided.” He concluded in a smirk.

“What do you suggest?” She quickly ignored the emperor in her head as she replied with a shake of her head yet standing tall and confident in front of him, not allowing him to believe he had the upper hand against them. Enver seemed entertained by her stance, so insignificant yet so annoying in the bigger picture of his plan. He had two choices: either squish the fly or get the fly on his side, and he was a mastermind at the end of the day.

“Well, the brain won’t respond to new commands as soon as it is done with its current ones. Then it will be free to do as it wishes, and that would be rather unpleasant.” He pointed arch and clever. “And once it’s freed I doubt we’ll ever be able to bring it under control again.” He smacked his lips together as he threw a glance at Althaea- that was now at the center of everyone's attention.

“I still don’t see where you are going” She lied, seeing behind his mask of politeness. He wanted something. He had that look in his eyes that reminded her of how her father would look at her before he'd try to make a move to overpower her, and she wanted to throw up right there and then. Yet she knew she had to do this: for the sake of her friends, for the sake of the city, and possibly for the sake of the whole coast.

It was almost as if his words were calculated, trying to catch her in like a spiderweb set up for the next victim, and his sweet- almost sincere words, where the honey he bet would get her to agree. As if admitting having made a poor alliance would have somewhat fixed all that there was wrong with the situation.

“They say a brittle alliance can never be mended; it is bound to break.” He intoned as if he had rehearsed those words countless times. “Orin is unreliable, and with Ketheric gone, she will want the stone for herself” He simply explained axiomatic. “She only cares for blood, and mine and yours are positively delectable right now.” There was the threat.

Orin.

He would betray her if he needed- and he hoped the merry troupe would agree. He was the better way anyway. Giving Orin all that power would have created devastation and unleashing the brain would waste all this gracious power he was about to grasp at.

No one was fitter to sit ahead of Baldur's Gate like the adept of Bane.

Nevertheless, Althaea didn't budge. If he wanted something he had to say it out loud, in front of everyone in the room. “I suppose you are right, but I still don’t see what you are trying to say” She huffed.

“I can’t let that happen, I don’t want to destroy this city, I want to steer it to its glory." He trailed off with another of his sly smiles. “I have a proposition for you” He finally advanced, looking at Althaea first before addressing the rest of the party.

“A divine oath, sworn and unbreakable. I shall do no harm to you, nor you to me." He propositioned. "You'll slay Oring and with all three of the Netherstones we’ll rule Faerun as kings.” He spelled each of his last words as if they were the best promise he had for them, a vision of success and glory that everyone would run for. “No more than kings- gods. We'll rule as the absolute.” He hyped himself with his own words, as the taste of power already floated in his reach for him to snatch.

“The only absolute here is my no.” She said firmly trying to ignore the same feeling he had, the need for power.

His eyes muted, as if he had a new challenge to accomplish, he had set his mind on. “Oh dear, I didn’t know I had to convince you.” He lowered his voice, while his eyes stared daring. “I shall do so once we are done with the ceremony then.” He dismissed them just as quickly as he had with Ketheric before he left him to his demise.

The ceremony was painfully boring as all the honors had to be made, introducing the most relevant figures in the room and witnessing the tadpoled Duke proclaim Gortash archduke. Althaea could swear even her tadpole was squirming in boredom as the time went on, but there was something about Gortash as he politely entertained the crowd that made her cheeks grow warmer. He'd occasionally made sure to take glances her way, not even attempting to conceal them as the event formally came to an end and their debate resumed.

It had been a long and extenuating conversation up to that moment, the more Althaea and Enver would bicker, the more the room would feel warm, and with Karlach's occasional comments, the tension was over the top.

The two were figuratively at each other’s throat. It was a battle of wit, and whether Althaea would end up accepting it or not was up to Enver’s skills.

She couldn’t deny the allure of the man, and she knew it was better to stay on his good side rather than his bad side.

“This won’t end well, mark my words” Karlach remarked with a scoff while Enver had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“I understand your concerns, my old friend, but allow me to demonstrate why you made the right choice.” He purred again, as if he had not tried to reason with them already. He couldn't help but notice Althaea's reaction, her frame shivering when he lowered his voice at last. “You should focus on finding the impostor in your camp” He dismissed Karlach with the useless information of the vanished druid as his eyes fell on Althaea again, already undressing her with his eyes.

"Let me show you how you'll benefit from this deal" He stepped closer to Althaea, making sure his words were low enough to caress her skin only.

She could even smell his thoughts as they floated in the room, between them, just like the polite dislike she felt towards him, inviting her brain to stir towards the thought of being bent over the throne, her legs spread for Gortash as he rolled his hips.

If his point was to get her aroused, he was doing way too good for her wellbeing.

“Let them out” Enver leaned forward and ordered with a whisper that was so rough she could have mistaken him for a rabid animal. A long shiver ran down her spine as she obliged.

It took her a moment to convince them it was safe, that she was going to be okay, and he was not going to hurt her, his mind had said so, his body had said so, and she knew he had better intentions than murdering her right there, or so she hoped.

“Where were we?” He asked, smiling as soon as everyone stepped out and the doors closed behind her.

“The benefits from the deal.” She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him, wondering where he was going with his words and his behavior. She could tell he had other plans that didn't involve much talking and she hated that she wanted to find out what those plans were.

“Ah yes” He circled around her as if she was his prey and he was about to devour her, the tip of his gauntlet traced her jawline, gently tilting her head as if he wanted her to follow his gaze. “The benefits” He hummed as he was again in his original place. “Follow me, dear.” He offered his hand like a gentleman for her to take. “Let’s take a seat.”

She was dizzy by his words as she accepted his hand and followed him promptly, still trying to keep her composure as they had to come to some sort of compromise. She had to keep up the polite mask, ask for the right things and leave.

When they came close to the red lined throne, she was quick to catch up eased when Enver roughly gripped her hips and sat her in his lap, as if she was his pretty toy for everyone to see as he sat there regal.

She tried to keep her composure even though she could feel her wetness starting to seep through her now soaked panties, not too far from Enver’s thigh. “So, the benefits?” She smiled expectantly as she tried to ignore the redness of her cheeks.

“Well, let's start with a special seat for you, dear.” He purred as he hooked his arm under her legs to properly seat her in his lap, her legs dangling off one side of the golden throne, where she knew she could admire the hall in its whole beauty. She hummed as she didn't dare to look around yet.

“Don’t you like the view?” He teased as he guided her head towards the entrance to the room, from where she could see every corner of the hall. He made a particular effort in being delicate as she manhandled her, making sure she couldn't miss a chair even if she tried to look away again.

Earlier she didn't notice the tapestries hung on the high walls, setting the scene for the countless events that were held there.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not enough” She shrugged faking disinterest.

“Isn’t it?” He asked curiously as rested his gauntleted hand on her thigh deliberately. The cold gold almost stung against her warm skin as it inched way too close to her pussy. She had to focus on the deal and get out of there, she thought, she had to sort this out and leave.

“How about this?” He purred as his index finger made its way towards her soaked underwear, running a finger over her clothed heat. He let out a rough hum as his fingertips drenched just as quickly as she refused again.

“Not enough, sorry” She pushed her legs closed and tight, as the blush on her cheeks made her even more appealing at Enver's eyes.

He didn't retreat as he brushed the tips of the gauntlet on her tight, still reminding her where she was sitting and how sensitive she was to his touch. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He whispered as he made sure his lips brushed against her ear.

It didn't take much for her to smell the pungent scent of cheap cologne and sweat, quickly taking over all her senses.

One arm of his quickly wrapped around her middle, supporting her back as his slender fingers quickly spread her legs and moved her underwear to the side before diving ring-deep into her folds.

He let out a low, dark groan as her pussy clenched around his index finger the second it slid in. She was so wet for him, and he was so eager to see her crumble in his arms. The shallow whine she indulged in sounded like poetry to the man.

His thumb took its time to find her clit, gently teasing her sensitive nub. His skilled movements were leaving her breathless as she had to keep herself from moaning his name out loud whenever the pad of his finger would bring her so close.

“I suppose this is a good reason then?” He vexed her teasingly as he stopped on his tracks, waiting for her reply eagerly.

She was leaning against him just enough so she wouldn't lose balance as she gasped. Her body was still taught as if on the verge of a cliff awaiting to be pushed off, yet she was kept there, tense.

She shook her head no, the smallest hint of sanity left in her had pushed, reminding her that she couldn't give it all up for an orgasm, right?

“Ah, pity” He huffed as he quickly slid out his fingers, uncaring if it would stimulate her too much, leaving her gasping and empty, though still in his lap. She almost begged him to not retreat, the newfound need was already enough in her eyes for him to grasp at as he tsked.

"Need further reasons?" He asked wickedly as he undressed her with his eyes. He could already imagine how her shirt would tie nicely around her wrists as he pinned her down and he made sure she could feel his thought deep down her bones.

His eyes wouldn’t leave hers for a second, whenever she tried to look away, he’d gently grasp at her chin and bring her attention to him again. She could feel her body heating ever more under his skillful touch as he couldn't help himself but to feel her again, basking in the moment he allowed another finger to enter her, and he stole a soft mewl from her lips.

This time he was quick, hurried, abrupt as his fingers plunged and grasped at her breath, and just as quick he took his fingers away from her cunt, leaving her just at the cusp of her orgasm again.

“Please-” She let out as she begged to come, she could feel her orgasm so close, yet so far, just a few pumps away, although those ended up being denied to her.

“I apologize, I suppose that’s part of the deal, if you’ll accept of course” He whispered before he languidly brought his fingers in his mouth. He was so undeniably sexy, looking at her from under his dark lashes as he sucked her juices off his pads, the wet sound of his lips swallowing her was sending Althaea over the edge. “Ah how I wished you had agreed.” He sighed as he made sure he'd lick each finger clean. “I would have been delighted to taste this lovely juice directly from the source.”

She swore her eyes rolled at the back of her head just at the thought of his tongue taking a fat lick down her pussy, drenching his stubble with her wetness, and the way he had been swirling it along his fingers looked like a promise she might have been desperate enough to accept.

“Unless you need more, of course.” He noted sultry as he made no effort hiding what he was alluding to.

She hesitated. She wanted to reason, to ask what the accord would have stipulated, yet all she could focus on was the ache between her thighs and the need to be filled before she’d miss the chance.

She nodded as she gripped the edge of her skirt with a blush she couldn’t hide. He hummed satisfied as he quickly secured his arms around her, holstering her frail body and setting her down on the flush throne.

Quickly and uncaring he tore her panties away from her skin, and spread her pretty legs, revealing her sopping pussy to him.

He fell to his knees brazenly, bringing his face close to her heat, humming at the sight of her wetness dripping onto the chair.

His hot breath hitting her naked and dripping core right before his plump lips met with her cunt in a lazy lick, collecting her arousal on his tongue. A filthy growl escaped his lips as he dived between her legs, dedicating his attention to her needy clit, having her whole body shake under his tongue as pleasure overtook her senses completely.

No one ever remotely made her squirm with their tongue the way Enver was doing just about now as he traced figures eight on her swollen bud, her legs shaking as he guided them around his neck, resting them on his back and being totally engulfed face first in her pussy.

His finger soon joined, swiftly plunging into her core with ease. It was like she was losing control of her own body as he pumped his digit in her, hitting right where she needed it as his tongue eagerly swirled and licked her like a hungry and desperate man sitting in front of his last meal, devouring and dipping in her folds like a madman.

Althaea could barely keep her mouth shut as she wailed his name like a forbidden grace as a second finger slid in, his low moans reverberated through her as she sucked him in, clenching around his digits hungry for more, hungry for him.

He licked her, kissed her, savored her, every centimeter of her throbbing warm pussy getting him high off her, the most euphoric he’s ever been.

He pumped his fingers in her cunt insatiably as she could feel it build up, the familiar knot as her muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and her legs shake. Then when she finally could taste her orgasm on the tip of her tongue, he stopped again.

He looked at her almost feigning innocence as he cleaned his drenched stubble with his fingertips. He popped each one his mouth again, before sitting up and leaning forward in front of her.

She looked and felt so small under him as he towered menacingly above her, and even more when she noticed his erection aggressively pressing against his trousers.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her wide eyes, stealing a scoff from her. She turned away, her cheeks already bright crimson from the heat coming from her own body, the embarrassment just doubled up on her.

“ ‘suppose you like what you see?” He tantalized as he grasped at her chin, and harshly turned her head towards him.

She nodded a bit dazed from the fast movement as she was still slouched on the throne, legs wide open for him; before they could both line more words, he was on her again.

His lips trailed down her neck, peppering her skin with sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he mumbled praises against the hot flesh he was ready to devour. His body pressed heatedly against hers, his fingers hungrily digging in her skin as he earned a guttural moan from her.

“Accept and all of this will be yours” He rasped as he pressed his clothed hard cock against her cunt, grinding just enough to tease her and ease a bit his erection.

She knew what she was about to bargain with, yet her senses were taken over by her thirst, desperate for release. “Make me come and I’ll accept.” She purred as she bit her lip, almost drawing blood as eager as she was.

He tilted his head, still holding tight to her chin as he considered her offer. “Don’t know” He shook his head, not breaking eye contact with her. Though she was completely disheveled- half naked and slouching, she still didn’t lose her confidence. He liked it, she was breathtaking.

She was bold in her movements as he pushed away his hand from her chin and grabbed the collar of his button up. “Shut up and kiss me already.” She pulled him down as she sat up, making him space on the throne again and making sure she was straddling him comfortably.

Her legs perfectly draped over his lap as she pressed her warmth against his cock. She relentlessly held to his collar as their lips collided in a rough kiss.

His coarse lips felt scorching against her sweetness, taking over her senses with the aggressive and pungent taste of cheap wine and sweat. The second she tasted it, she knew she was not going to be able to give it up for anything.

He didn't get undressed, nor did he undress her more than her panties that were already missing, he simply quickly untied his pants and freed his cock. He was strong and the way he was holding her and guiding her on top of his cock was proof of it- just making Althaea more eager to be filled.

The cold of the golden gauntlet was just the tip of the iceberg as her body was so eager and close already. He had tortured enough, yet the way he pulled her up to have better access to her pussy, made her even hornier than before.

He was quick in sinking into her cunt, loudly and rough as he manhandled her effortlessly. “So tight, doll” He grunted as he dug his fingers in her soft flesh, stealing a strangled moan from Althaea’s loose lips.

She was lucky the chatter from outside was loud enough cause, if that was what he could coax out of her with one blunt thrust, she didn’t dare to imagine how she’d keep her lewd sounds unheard.

She stretched so nicely around him as he filled her to the brim, he didn’t wait for her to adjust before he’d start moving.

He did a good job hiding it until then, but he was dying to fuck her senseless. Looking at her tossing her head back and moaning his name sent a rush of adrenaline down his body to his cock as he mercilessly slammed into her.

One hand quickly snuck under her shirt, sloppily grabbing her breast and teasing her nipple as he could feel her already inching closer to her first orgasm.

The way she rode him drove him insane, unable to form sentences from time to time while the only thing he could do was use his hands to guide her, gripping her ass and helping her to keep some speed as she choked on her words.

All that could be heard was the sound of ragged breath and skin slapping as she tried to meet his speed. He had her wrapped around his cock so consumed as his movements did nothing but make her mewl and sub for him.

She didn’t have the power to question how he did it, but his hips met with her in such an electrifying way as he rolled deep in her.

With one deep thrust he had her eyes rolled back as he rammed her and fucked her till exhaustion.

“You’re mine” He rasped as the words mindlessly fell over his lips with a possessiveness neither expected. “You understand?” He demanded as he suddenly slowed down, his thrusts hitting deeper, till that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her stomach flutter.

Y-Yes” She mewled as his nails once more found her hips, pulled her down and closer to him

“Say it” He ordered as he deliberately let go of her hips, allowing gravity to harshly let her collide with him. “Who do you belong to?” He grabbed at her chin and guided her face towards his.

Her eyes were dilated, her mouth slack as she fucked herself on his cock desperately. “Yours” She wailed as her hips twitched frantically.

“Say my name, doll” He rasped as he could feel her cunt ready to milk him as he waited for her reply.

“I-I” She moaned as she could feel her orgasm pull over her. “B-belong” His hands gripped at her hips again, helping her come as he met her movements. “E-enver” She croaked and sobbed as she could barely hold on to herself anymore, the pleasure rippled under her skin uncontrollably, like a tidal wave pulling her in and out as she gushed over his cock.

His lips hungrily met with hers again as she sobbed a moan against them, his movements were sloppy just like his kiss as he let his own intense, reckless, arrogant orgasm was over him.

He carelessly came into her cunt, enjoying the view of his cum filling her to the brim and spilling on her legs. His words were a faint buzzing as she could barely feel her spine and leaned against him, yet she didn’t care anymore.

She had already fucked up when she accepted and there was no way back.

No way back from being fucked silly on a throne.

Just an handful of minutes later she was standing next to her companions, the closest she could get to presentable as his cum dribbled down her thighs as she sealed her deal with Enver, that smirked at her.

“I, lord Enver Gortash, in the name of Bane, swear I shall do you no harm, and we will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun” He smiled boldly at her, as he offered her his hand, waiting just for her to take it.

161 notes · View notes

bouncybongfairy · 2 months

Note

Hello I have an idea. I don’t know if I already sent you something but I don’t think I did so anyways here is my idea

So void gets into stiles body and he’s walking around thinking about his plans until his friend y/n and asks what’s wrong with him they figure out that stiles is actually void and they start talking back in forth until void says something that’s makes y/n’s werwolf suddenly come out and I mean like eyes glowing and fangs come out and then they start talking about y/n’s werewolf power and that she is a hybrid werewolf and then void asks what y/n does with there “prey” and they say I like to play with my food. He says do to me what you do to your “prey” and she does just that and she pins him to the ground and starts to claw at his back and bits his shoulder but he likes it and it just goes down from there.

If you do it then thank you but if you don’t it’s okay, you probably have better things to worry about :) :)

Cat and Mouse Games

Void Stiles x Werewolf Reader

Summary: Thinking Stiles asked you to hang out excited you. After going on a late night hike, he reveals himself to be Void. He teases and gaslights you into letting him fuck the shit out of you.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Rough Smut, Blood Kink, CNC kink.

Account Ref: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was Friday and you could barely keep your eyes open on the bus. Sleep deprived, also mentally exhausted from the academic and social aspects of school. Regardless of your exhaustion, Stiles invited you to hang out tonight, lately he’s been his own little world. Isolating himself and acting quite withdrawn when he did converse with you. That being said, you didn’t want to brush him off. After getting home you jumped in the shower. Welcoming the hot water burning your shoulders and back. Hoping it would loosen the tightness in your muscles. You cut the water off and stepped out of the tub. After wrapping your hair in a towel, you sit down at your vanity. Drawing a deep breath in and letting it out with a sigh, you start doing your make-up. Of course you wanted to impress, up until a couple weeks ago you thought there was something between the two of you. So now that he was showing interest in you again, it was important that you made your feelings clear. Not to mention Stiles was already so familiar with the supernatural. Once you were ready you texted him to come pick you up. Scrambling to gather your things together while waiting. He texted you a simple: here. Normally he would have called but you brushed that off and made your way outside.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, climbing into the passenger seat of his beat up Jeep.

“How are you?” he asked without looking over.

“I’m pretty good, tired but good. What about you? I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” you chuckled, clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Yeah sorry, I just been discovered new things about myself,” he said.

“Oooo, so mysterious,” you laugh before continuing, “are you okay though, like mentally? Sorry I don’t mean to pry and you don’t have to answer, I just noticed you’ve been kinda withdrawn lately. Even from Scott,” you said, treading very lightly.

“I appreciated the concern but like I said, I’ve just been in my own head lately. Realizing things about myself that I needed to deal with, you know?” he asked.

“Well, I’m just glad that you’re doing better than I thought. I totally understand what you mean, when I get in my head a lot, I usually go on a hike and it really helps. You know, like the fresh air and everything,” you said.

“That’s crazy because I’ve been doing the same lately. Like nightly walks and stuff to clear my head, can I show you a cool trail I found? It’s one of my favorites,” he suggested and you agreed.

The ride was pretty chill, just making small talk while the radio played quietly in the background. Even though there was nothing that really stuck out, something was off. Stiles was normally very bubbly and bright. Tonight he was anything but that. Extremely still and calm, never looking over at you when speaking. Keeping his eyes steadily on the road. All his laughs and chuckles seemed forced and dry. Not only that but it was just a feeling in your gut. Finally getting to the hiking trail, your suspicions only grew from there. The conversation was just so surface level, commenting on different plants and random shit. Another thing you noticed, was how unaffected he seemed to be by the cold weather. Eventually you stop entertaining the conversation, just walking in slightly uncomfortable silence.

“It’s a really nice trail right?” he asks.

“Yeah there are a lot of little critters running around, it’s nice to see how lively it is tonight,” you said.

“Yeah it’s real unfortunate,” he sighed which made your brows furrow.

“Unfortunate?” you asked.

“Well of course, all this prey, just going to waste,” he said, your heart began to race.

“I’m confused, what do you mean by that,” you asked, slowing your pace down.

“Oh it’s no secret that you’ve been confused this whole time. Do you think you were good at hiding it? It’s obvious that you think something is off about me, have you come to a conclusion as to why?” he asked, voiced laced with condescension.

Immediately the realization hits you like a truck; he was Void. Your brain starts flooding with worse case scenarios and questions. Involuntarily your eyes begin to glow and claws come out. Unsure of what to do you just stand and watch him. Nothing in his body language indicated to you that he would try to hurt you. At the same time, you knew what Void was capable of.

“You know Stiles is still in here and I can’t deny the sexual fantasies he has about you are truly a sight to behold. He is a nasty little guy. He likes the fact that you’re stronger than him. He’s never told you this but watching you hunt gives him a rush like no other. Can’t say I don’t agree-” he tried to continue but was interrupted.

“What’s your point? Honestly, like… seriously are you just gonna ramble till we both drop dead?” you asked

“Egar are we? Well, like I said I would be lying if I didn’t indulge myself in his fantasies. I mean, look how powerful you are, quite literally an apex predator. Teeth sharper than daggers, claws that can shred flesh like it’s paper. Don’t you wanna give in to your natural instincts?” he asked, making such strong eye contact that you were getting uncomfortable. Shifting back and forth, the fight or flight reflex tethering on the edge of uncontrollable. When you didn’t respond, he continued,

“When you first got turned, it took you a couple months until you could control your impulses right? I just wanna see those instincts in person, how do you normally kill your prey?” he asks.

“I like to play with it before going for the kill, like hobbling it before finishing the job,” you say quietly, fearing the silence would make you appear weak.

“Say it with your chest, why are you so ashamed of your biological instincts?” he asks, tilting his head to the side a bit, “Show me how you hunt, like i’m your prey,” he half demands half asks.

“You want me to attack you?” your heart was beating out of your chest, “that’s- I’m not doing that, why would you even want that?” you ask, taking a few steps back.

“I want to feel your internal conflict, the shift from the good girl persona you sell to well and pull out what’s underneath. A whore that gets off on the most shameful activities. You may fool yourself, however I’m not so easily persuaded,” he said approaching you, he was trying to taunt you and it was working.

Scott had warned you about how dangerous Void was, that he was the definition of toxicity. Now that he was standing here, inviting you to tear him up the way you would a deer. You felt disgusted that you were actually tempted to attack him. It was true, when you hunted you felt powerful. Like there was nothing that could stop your reign of terror on your chosen prey or target. He was now only a foot away from you, eyes were completely black. Jaw was clenched, indicating that he was getting impatient. Your eyes were locked on him, pushing him back which only hummored him. Becoming irritated with the anxiety building up inside, you turn and walk away. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having a second more of your attention. This infuriated him, an all powerful Nogitsune such as himself was never to be ignored. To be denied a request; seeing you walk away from him only made him watch you unravel you more.

“You think you can ignore me? The same way you’ve ignored all the urges and needs swarming in your brain on a full moon? I will get what I want out of you, making you act on every sinful desire you have. Even if I have to reach down your throat and rip it out myself!” he roared, stomping towards you while shaking in anger.

Something in you snapped, the taunting was enough to make you go crazy. All you wanted was for him to shut the fuck up. Jumping on top of him, you use your claws and swipe at his chest. Blood starts seeping through his cotton shirt, taking a look at his face to catch the reaction. To your dismay, he chuckles letting his head fall back. It wasn’t until then that you realized what he meant when saying he wanted to see your internal conflict. This was conflicting; expecting to look up to see him damaged. Normally giving you a satisfied feeling but this was different, normally content in a platonic way. The way his head fell back and the smirk on his face. You couldn’t deny being turned on by how twisted he was. How unaffected he seemed to be by your attacks. Adding another slash across his chest, it felt so good being vicious. For so long you’d bent your instincts to Scott’s mission of keeping the peace in Beacon Hills. Letting your mind be wrapped in a foggy daze while letting your urges run wild was an intoxicating feeling. He pulled his shirt off, hands becoming soaked in blood. He reaches up and takes your face into his hands. Leaving bloody hand prints on your cheeks. Pulling you down so your lips were hovering over one another. You could feel the blood from his chest seep into your shirt. Starting to fall deeper into the kiss, you let your full body weight press onto him. He suddenly flips the two of you over swiftly, now keeping a tight hold on your hair. His hands were sticky with blood, only making for a better grip.

“Did you really think I'd let you use me to satisfy yourself without a fight?” he asked, holding you down with his body weight.

Feeling a little too vulnerable, you bite down on his shoulder. Feeling his skin pop as your canines break through. He lets out a loud groan, leaning into the bite which makes your lower stomach burn with pleasure. He pulls your head up slightly by the hair and pulls it back down, indicating he wanted you to let go after a while. You refuse; after realizing he was caught in your jaw, he moves his hands from your hair to your throat. Hair still stuck to his hands, which covered your face as he changed hand placement. At first it seemed like you’d be able to keep this up. Until his grip became tighter and your breathing became strained. Towering over you and focusing most of his weight on your throat. Your vision was becoming blurry and cloudy, you scratched at his shoulders. When this doesn't phase him, you rake your claws down his back. Trying to put in the last of your strength into shredding his back before passing out.

Void watched as your eyes become glossy, the feeling of your nails in his back making him rock hard. Chuckling as your arms went limp, falling off his back and to the ground. He let go of your throat and turned his attention to your body. He lifted your skirt and pulled your panties to the side. Muttering a couple curses as he uses his fingers to feel how wet you were. Even your thighs were wet and sticky from you leaking desperately for his cock. He uses one hand to rub himself against your entrance and the other hand to start slapping your chest. Watching you bounce as he tried waking you up. Once you started coming to, he began fucking himself into you. Moaning as you started becoming more aware of what was happening. Blood drips from his back and shoulder onto your body. The only thing you were focused on was chasing your orgasm. Rocking your hips into him, trying to get him as deep as possible. Noticing this, his thrusts become rough and fast. His hip bones piercing into your ass painfully. Gripping your hips hard enough to embed his nails into your skin.

“What kind of whore gets off on this? Are you that desperate for attention?” he taunted as he destroyed your pussy.

You let your body go limp, enjoying and accepting anything he had to offer. He moved his hands back to your throat. Seeing your face turn red and gasping for air was what sent him over the edge. His climax racking through his body, you came slightly before him. Seeing how your helplessness and pain was enough to make him cum was what made you climax. By the time both of you rode out the highs, you felt completely worn out. Like your body was carrying the weight of a ton, forcing you to stay on the ground. His shoes walking away were the last thing you saw before losing consciousness.

#void stiles x reader #void stiles request #fanfic request #void stiles smut #void stiles imagines #void stiles x werwolf reader #teen wolf smut #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf fanfiction #void stiles #cnc k!nk #blood k!nk #rough smut #void stiles x reader smut

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stanfanfiction · 7 months

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Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART SEVEN

Ken goes to therapy. He has a lotta feelings okay. Very Ken centric chapter. (Yay?) and (possibly) some of the most intense sex I’ve written sooo…let’s go. Probably the longest chapter I’ve written this far, too.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / there’s always smut there’s never not smut / lots of angst and angry feelings (Ken is trying to process all those hard human things because they’re getting to be too intense for him) / violent imaginative fears (domestic fighting, one instance of hitting 🛑 tread softly if you might be triggered by this (I don’t want anyone triggered or hurt!!)) / nightmares / rough sex / major overstim / size kink / sex toys / anal fingering / possessiveness / lots of crying tbh (Ken is emotional af) / dom!Ken / possibly bordering on some non-con ? Depending on how you view it / fuzzy sweet aftercare

Ken sat opposite the therapist, twiddling his thumbs, staring down at the floor. Occasionally he glanced up at the doctor sitting across from him, a kindly middle aged man (you had suggested he talk to a male therapist, saying maybe in some weird way it would help him deal with jealousy when having to be emotionally open with another man in the room), and he gave Ken a small smile.

“So when this strong jealous hits, what does it feel like?” The therapist asked. He had sensed Ken’s anxiety the moment he walked in the door and opted out of the sitting-with-the-clipboard-for-notes option, instead sitting comfortably in his chair, hoping a conversation-style approach would set Ken at ease.

“It’s like I’ll cease to exist if she leaves me.”

“And does anything help with that?”

“Sex does, kinda. Sometimes a lot, sometimes only for a minute.”

“Have you talked with your partner about it?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that go?”

“She reassured me. She does every single time.”

“So this has become a consistent conversation?”

Ken paused, picking at nothing on his jeans. “I guess.”

“When was the last time you felt this way?”

“A couple days ago.”

“Did anything in particular happen to trigger it?”

“She’s having to take a class and her ex is in it.”

“Ahhhh.” The therapist mused, letting the silence sit for just a moment. “And you are worried about that?”

“I’m not worried she would do anything intentionally.”

“You’re afraid her former feelings might return for him, though.”

Ken nodded. “Yeah. I get she wouldn’t be able to help that, though. Feelings happen.”

“This is very true. Are you concerned about what might happen if those feelings return? Do you worry she would actually act on them?”

Ken frowned deeply. “I don’t think she would without talking to me first. But I don’t want them happening at all. The feelings, I mean. Because then there’s nothing I can….do.” The last word fell out as a whisper.

“You feel helpless in the relationship?” The therapist asked gently.

“Not…I.., I don’t know.”

“Have you ever been cheated on?”

“No. This is my first relationship.”

The therapist nodded. “Worries about someone leaving you are actually pretty normal, especially the first time you’re with someone.”

“Y/n told me that.”

“Has she ever shown any indication that she wants to leave you? Or that she ever might cheat on you?”

“No. I understand it’s all in my head. It still scares me, though.”

“Can I ask why you decided to come to me today? I assume this is the first time you’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah…she’s just taking a lot of classes and she gets really stressed sometimes, especially because finals are like a month away.”

“I can understand that. You feel like your jealousy is interfering with her ability to study?”

“It stresses her out more.” Ken bit his lip. “I don’t want to do that to her.”

“So are you worried less about her randomly cheating on you, and more that you are pushing her away from you? Or, encouraging her potentially into the arms of another because she is getting stressed with how you handle your jealousy?”

Fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of it that way before. Now he was even more frightened.

When Ken didn’t answer, just stared down at the carpet, the therapist tried again. “It’s okay to be struggling with how you’re feeling. The fact that you’re working to understand why is healthy, it’s a great move on your part. It also shows her that you want to be supportive of her, and I’m sure that makes her less stressed.”

“I feel like sometimes I’m a bad person.”

“Why is that?”

“I hurt someone I care about before. She didn’t want me, and I….I tried to hurt her. I wanted to feel like I was in charge for once, but I was cruel.”

“Can I ask what you did?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That’s alright. You can tell me about it when you’re ready to.” The therapist paused, working to see how much he might be able to get Ken to explain without pressuring him and making him shut down. “Can I ask, when did this happen with your former friend?”

“Well, she’s still my friend, I guess. She’s really nice. But we don’t see each other.”

“I see.”

“It happened, I don’t know, maybe a half a year ago.”

“Was it around here?”

Ken shrugged. “Kinda.”

“Have you ever taken y/n to where that happened? Or revisited the area alone, just to see how the memories made you feel?”

Ken’s chest tightened. “No.”

“Do you think that is something you might be able to do? Sometimes being back in a physical place where we wronged someone can help us find closure, especially if the one we hurt has forgiven us, but we have been unable to forgive ourselves.”

“I don’t want to.” Ken quickly wiped away a small tear forming, pretending it was something in his eye.

“Do you think y/n would understand if you told her?”

“I’ve told her a little. She wasn’t upset.”

“Does she know the specifics?”

“Uh…no…she met my friend, though. They liked each other.”

“Well that’s really good. Do you think she might be willing to travel with you, be present with you if you decided to try and gain closure?”

“…..I don’t feel like that’s necessary.”

“Can I ask why?”

Ken was silent for a long time. The therapist respected letting him internally process as long as he needed.

“I just think it’s unnecessary.”

“How do you feel you are working to help the problem right now, other than coming to me? Is there anything you’ve tried?”

“Just sex.”

“And why does sex feel like something that can fix the issue for you?”

“Because I have her then.”

“Have her with you?”

“Have her focused only on me.”

“Does she enjoy those times with you? Do you feel like she gets stressed, maybe feeling like she has to have sex with you so you’ll calm down?”

Well, fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of that. That made him feel even worse, angry, even. Though he couldn’t place where the anger came from….oh, wait.

“No. She likes it. She always likes it.”

The therapist was taken aback slightly by the sudden, minor shift in Ken’s tone, noting the aggression suddenly appearing, but kept his external demeanor. Being surprised was a good thing. It meant his client was starting to break through their emotional barrier.

“And can I ask, why would you talking about her enjoying those sessions be something that makes you feel upset?”

“She has to like them.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s all I have to offer her.” The words tumbled out before Ken’s brain had even fully processed them, and he sat dumbstruck, his own sentence replaying in his head. He felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest.

“Ahhhhh. That sounds like that’s a lot of stress you’re dealing with, too. Feeling like you only have one certain thing of yourself to offer her that she sees as worthy of her time must be exhausting for you.”

Ken worked hard to hold back the new tears that were coming stronger than he knew what to do with.

“Do you feel that she actually only sees you as worth her time because of the sex?”

Ken shook his head genuinely. “No.”

“So that’s another lie you have told yourself.” The therapist kept his tone soft.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

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

The walk home was torture. He tried so hard to think through everything they’d talked about as “healthily” as he could - the therapist’s words. But all he could think about was silencing everything for just a little while. He thought of getting home to tie you to the bed again and just fuck you for hours. Every time you were lying trapped underneath him was the only time he ever felt like he truly had any control over anything. But maybe today he needed to to be free to move however you pleased, to experience however you would wrap yourself around him or grasp onto his muscles or grab his hair. He could easily still keep you underneath him as long as he wanted with just his body weight.

The closer he got to the front door, however, the more overwhelmed he became, the voices in his head growing louder and louder, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t even fuck you if he wanted to right now. He felt like he might collapse.

Ken opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert you he was home. Unfortunately, since the kitchen was very close to the entryway, you heard the moment he stepped inside.

“Hi, baby,” you said, turning while holding your coffee cup.

Ken froze, feeling embarrassed. He still didn’t know why he did, but he had worked to stop crying the entire walk home, without success. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks wet.

“Oh, Ken,” you said, setting down your cup and coming up to him, your hands on his face, your thumbs rubbing across his cheekbones. “It was a hard talk today?”

Ken nodded, hanging his head, his hands wrapping around your wrists. “I feel like I’m nothing to you, but I know better.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice was like a warm tea coating his aching chest. “I know you struggle with that. I can keep reminding you that you mean so much to me.”

“What if…like, I couldn’t offer you sex?”

You cocked your head, confused, but went with it. “I would still love you the same.”

He forced his eyes up to meet yours. “You mean it?”

“MMhmm. I do.”

He sniffed.

“Do you feel like I wouldn’t love you?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down again.

“Do you need some rest? Anytime I get really upset and have cried really hard some time in bed always helps me.”

He nodded, and you took his hand in yours, leading him to the bedroom. You helped him out of his clothes leaving him only in his boxers and went to the closet, pulling something out.

“Here,” you said, walking over to the bed and tossing a huge comforter on top of it. “This is my extra soft, cozy one. I used to use it all the time on really hard days awhile ago. I had forgotten I had it until now.”

He smiled a little then, reaching his hand out to you. You went to sit on the bed next to him, keeping your feet on the floor. You kissed his palm as his hand went to rest of your face.

“I love you so very, very much, my love,” you cooed. “But I need to get back to studying. I have awhile yet to go. I had just taken a short break to make some caffeine when you came home.”

Came home. Okay. Focus on the good things, his therapist had suggested. “Listen to anything that makes you feel safe or calm, try to enjoy the moment while it’s happening. This might help when you get stressed out to remember those times and know you are safe.”

“I’m home with you,” he mumbled.

You didn’t understand but nodded. “Yes. You’re home with me.”

He hummed, snuggling underneath the covers. “Okay.”

You smiled at him and kissed his cheek before picking up your laptop from your desk and picking up a textbook, heading out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You’d study at the kitchen table while he rested.

The home was on fire. Ken rushed through the flames, yelling your name, panic rising every second he couldn’t find you as smoke filled his lungs. Finally he heard you as you screamed, and his heart jumped in his chest as he rounded the corner to find your hands restrained to the wall over your head, blindfolded. You weren’t screaming in terror, you were screaming with pleasure. A faceless man was holding your legs around his waist, fucking up into you violently. It seemed you had no idea about the flames about to consume you, or maybe even who the man was. Ken tried to make his legs moved, begged them to, but he was stuck on the spot. He cried out your name but it seemed you didn’t hear him, your head through back in ecstasy as you moaned in time with the man’s thrust. Ken found a rock next to him and threw it at the man. It bounced off of him as if he didn’t even know it had been thrown, but then the blank face slowly turned to stare at Ken, a wicked smile suddenly spreading across his face where a mouth hadn’t been a moment before.

Ken sat upright in bed, gasping, panicking as he grabbed at anything he could touch, stopping only when he realized he had only fisted his hands up in the comforter. He buried his face hands, shaking, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to take him over again. He couldn’t remember ever having a nightmare before. He’d heard of them, but couldn’t even remember having a dream, only knowing they were something that apparently were a normal thing for most people, yourself included.

He tried to pinpoint the emotions he was feeling - something else the therapist had suggested when he got overwhelmed. Okay. Angry. Scared. Angry. Heartbroken? Fuck. Really, really fucking angry. He fell back into the pillows only to realize the sheets were covered in sweat underneath him.

You would help him feel better. He could go to you and you would pause your homework to soothe him and pet him and sit on his lap while he held you and hid his face in your neck. You wouldn’t be mad at him, you’d be so kind and patient like you always were.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve anything good.

The idea of going to you quietly to ask for comfort left his mind as quickly as it floated in, being forced out by a memory he created himself that honestly would probably never happen: you ignoring him, you telling him to get over himself while he finally was trying to understand why he kept feeling so angry like you had asked him to, you yelling at him, throwing something at his face. Telling him to….

“I can’t leave,” he cried into the pillow. “You said this was our home.”

You laughed. “Our nothing. Get the fuck out.”

You slapped him. He felt like his entire being shattered.

Ken was gripping the pillow so tight that his wrist began to cramp. Why. WHY couldn’t he stop these horrific scenes that played through his head.

The therapist had told him to breathe, even showed him how to inhale for four seconds and exhale the same amount of time. The mental scenarios weren’t real. They just might feel real.

Maybe he did need to return to Barbieland for a day…? Maybe he was dealing with fear that throwing Barbie out of her home could rebound back onto him…

UGH. Fuck fuck. This was hard. This was way too fucking hard. How was this supposed to help him get better, especially when your soft, perfect body was right behind that door, just down the hallway. When your voice could be filling his ears and drowning out at least most of these horrible things he heard in his head. Your taste filling his mouth, the scent of you, every inch of you, making him feel drunk.

You looked up from your book, Ken standing in the doorway. Sweat covered his body, his hair erratic, his face still as wet as earlier.

The concerned look on your face soothed him…but just a little.

“What happened?” You asked gently.

“I had a nightmare.”

Oh shit. “I’m so sorry. Do you need to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Wanna forget it.”

“I understand that. Do you want to come sit with me?”

“Want you with me.”

“Yes, Ken, that’s what I said-“

“Want you with me.”

Before you knew what was happening Ken had picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter where you became trapped between the cabinets and him. “Need you.”

“What did the therapist tell you to do when you feel like this?” You tried softly, reaching for the hand towel next to you and gently wiped at his chest to remove the cold sweat.

“It’s not working.”

“It doesn’t always work right away.”

He wanted to slam you into the cabinets, forcing his lips onto yours, making you stop talking about all the bullshit he had been fighting inside himself ever since that stupid appointment today. He knew that was the wrong thing to do.

“Can I ask what happens to you when you choose sex to deal with these emotions you’re struggling with?” The therapist had asked. “Anything in particular that seems to help at all?”

Ken didn’t want to answer. Would you call the sex violent is he asked? Or would it just be ‘rough’? He didn’t like the word violent…you had never told him that word, so it mustn’t be so. You would have told him. You would tell him if he ever hurt you.

“Ken?” The therapist had said, breaking through the long silence that had followed his question.

“I….I tend to be rough.”

“How does that help you?”

“I don’t have to think as much as usual. It helps block it all out.”

“It blocks all of it out?”

“Well…not everything, not always. But sometimes. Sometimes I get to have moments where everything becomes quiet except for her. I get to just hear her.”

And he desperately needed to hear you now. His strong hand ripped your crop top off, tearing the material from how hard he had pulled. You sighed as you watched it thrown to the floor.

“I liked that top,” you said.

“I’ll get you ten more,” Ken promised, biting down onto your nipple.

You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Oh, thank god. The exquisite pain of the way your nails dug into his skin, the taste of your flesh, the sound of your voice. His mind quieted for a second, and he heaved a sigh of relief as his tongue circled your nipple, his hands on your back, holding you into him.

“Do you feel like you take your anger out on her during sex?” The therapist’s words echoed in his head. God fucking dammit, not now. He had you in his arms. He would have you underneath him any second now. He didn’t need these fucking questions interrupting any of his time with you, especially these times.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you asked her if she feels that way?”

“She wouldn’t feel that way,” Ken forced himself not to sneer.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because she likes it.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“She would tell me if she didn’t!”

He slammed you into the wall now, your legs wrapped around him, needing to fuck that horrible image from his nightmare out of his mind. You had pleaded with him not to tear the pajamas pants you had been wearing and he had pulled them off swiftly, laying them in a single piece on the table before picking you up again.

“You like this?” He asked, voice breathless but harsh. He was terrified of your answer, but now that the question was on his mind, he couldn’t make it go away. God, the last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt you.

“Yes, Ken,” your head fell back against the wall when he bucked his hips up unto yours, the thin fabric of his boxers not doing anything at all to hide how hard he was.

“You’d tell me if I was hurting you?”

“Yes, Ken,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you going to tell me you should be studying?”

“Need a break anyway.” You sighed, angling your hips a little to try to get better leverage of him rubbing against your folds. “You feel good.”

Against his usual judgment, Ken pulled his cock out of his boxers and tested his tip against your opening before he tried fingering you to see how wet you were for him. Your hands clamped his shoulders tighter.

“Do you think you can take me right now?” He breathed into your ear and you giggled because it tickled a little.

“I can try,” you said, one hand traveling to grip the back of his neck as he started to slide into you.

Your cry was loud, and Ken’s mind once again quieted for a single moment, and he bottomed out in you as he experienced one more second of relief.

“I need her loud,” he had confessed as the session was ending earlier that day. “It’s the only thing that ever fully drowns any of the bullshit out.”

He thrust up hard again and your forehead fell into his, your eyes closed, focusing on your breathing as he stretched you out a little sooner than you probably should have been. His hips started snapping into you in a quicker pace.

“Can I lay down,” you shuddered as the pain became more pleasurable. “Wanna be comfy with you.”

“Need you. Need you right here for just another minute.” Ken tried to slow his thrusts but struggled for control as he tried fucking that image from his nightmares out of his mind.

His head hurt from all of the stress he’d been trying to process from the day. His head fell into your shoulder, closing his eyes, your moans becoming louder as he tried angling himself to hit your special spot. He left wet kissing along your neck, hoping it would help dull any pain you might still be dealing with, and when his name fell from your lips in a blissed out sigh he sucked gently on your pulse point.

The nightmare slowly melted from his mind’s eye and he slowed his thrusts until he had stopped completely, staring into your eyes.

“You’d tell me if I ever hurt you, right?”

You nodded. “You’ve never hurt me, Ken.”

He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently.

He had been saving a special something for you, something he had wanted to use on a special night, maybe after he finally took you out on a proper date. But he needed to hear you, see you react to it now. Maybe that was selfish of him. For the moment, he had lost the motivation to care.

“Close your eyes,” he asked, kissing your temple, and you smiled, doing as he asked.

You heard a buzzing sound and felt yourself becoming wetter. You hadn’t told him but you’d used the vibrator on yourself in the shower while he had been in therapy, loving a moment of personal release where you didn’t have to think about anything for a moment.

Your eyes shot open when you felt the strong vibrations covering your clit… all the way down your vulva, sliding into your opening. Your body jerked and you grabbed one of Ken’s forearms as he leaned himself onto the bed with his hand but remained upright enough to watch the way your opening clenched around the toy.

“Holy…ahhh.what…”

It was one of those vibrators were it had a clit stimulator but curved downward so it had a dildo attached to it that could slide inside you and stay without having to be held. The stimulation against your g-spot was delicious but automatically a little overwhelming, your vision going dizzy for a second while you worked to adjust.

Ken leaned over you fully, pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, wrapping his fingers in your own.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

It filled you up enough to compare to two of his fingers while having almost more of an intensity than it was when Ken nipped at your clit.

You nodded, gasping, and he smiled down at you, kissing your lips.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, slowly starting to kiss down your sternum.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you a hard question, Ken.” The therapist laced his fingers together. “What if she does end up leaving?”

“You don’t have the right to say that out loud.”

“It’s probably a good idea for us to address this idea head-on. Ignoring it, stuffing it inside makes it worse.”

“How does it help if I think about it?”

“Intentionally bringing up fears and talking through him often makes them less scary. You’re able to conquer the biggest aspects of those fears, learn exactly what fuels the, so they become easier to deal with when they come up.”

“I don’t want her to leave.”

“I know, I-“

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Our bed,” he mumbled, his lips attaching to your hip bone. “My y/n.”

You didn’t hear him, your ears filled with the buzzing from the toy.

God, you were perfect, writhing underneath him, even giggling a little as his wet kisses as they got to your stomach then going back to bunching the comforter up in your hands when the vibrator caused another spark of pleasure. Ken had made sure to lay out the comforter over the entire bed so you’d be extra comfy, like you had said you wanted.

“Well now I’m worried she’ll throw me out if I can’t stop acting like this.” Ken leaned his elbows onto his knees, his face in his hands. “Why would you put that idea in my head-“

“You already had it there, you told me so yourself.” Ken saw the therapist cross his legs through his fingers. He hated him. Not that he had done anything wrong…he just…he hated all of this.

“I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know how on earth I’d handle it.” Ken loathed how his voice choked a bit.

“Our goal is to make sure, to the best of our ability, that that will never happen.”

“I can make her stay.”

“Mine.” Ken flipped you over onto your stomach, the pressure of the toy being pushed onto your clit more intense from laying on it making you cry into the comforter. “All mine.”

He dipped a finger into you from behind, turning it upward to caress your muscle opposite the toy. You let out a strangled, throaty groan.

“What if she grows to hate me.” Ken’s words weren’t a question, they were as if stating a fact that was already coming into existence. He glanced at the clock. Why was time ticking by so slowly in this god awful therapy room.

“I do think this one is all in your head. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’d have to really go too far for her to ever hate you.”

“I’ll figure out how to make that not happen.”

“Unfortunately, we only have so much control over -“

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Ken slipped his belt from underneath the comforter, his hand almost shaking. Somehow marking you with his mouth was never enough for him now. He needed more. He needed you to react more, and lately his lips claiming your skin had made you relax more than anything. He wanted to be a comfort to you the same way you were to him. Somehow his brain wouldn’t let him see things that way, though. He didn’t know if he was ever truly a comfort to you.

You’d promised him he’d never hurt you. Thank god, because he was desperate for this release.

Your mangled scream filled the room as he bought the belt down, alternating cheeks, harsh and without pause. Usually he would wait a few seconds in between each for you to catch you breath, especially the first couple times. Today he saw red as the conversation with the therapist wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind, your legs shaking almost violently, your ass cheeks clenching as he kept finger fucking you alongside the vibrator.

Your body shuddered hard and you bit into the comforter, your throat raw from your screams as your orgasm hit out of nowhere. Ken didn’t even realize you hit your climax until he felt the way your muscle spasmed, knowing exactly the way you felt every single time you peaked with him inside you. Oh fuck, how on earth had he not seen that coming, heard the way your voice always hit a higher pitch right before it happened? He dropped the belt, focusing solely on the way his fingers touched you, his free hand pushing into your lower back as your hips bucked up into him.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, loving how long this orgasm was lasting. “Come on my fingers as long as you need.”

Your entire body was shaking as you came down from your waves, Ken pulling his fingers out slowly, wrapping his lips around them.

“Ken,” you shivered. “The vibrator.”

“Mmhmmm?” He knew what you meant, but loved the way you were remaining in a zone of overstimulation. He leaned over onto you, pressing his hips into yours, his cock rubbing into your folds.

“Ahhhhh….no, please….”

“No, please, what?”

“Ken!”

“No, baby girl. I need you to tell me. Need to hear you say it.”

“Need a breather, please, please.”

Ken bit into your shoulder. “What if I don’t want to?”

Tears stung your eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want, for fuck’s sake. Just turn it off for a minute.”

That got his attention. He stood up and reached down to press the button and your tense body finally got to collapse fully into the mattress. Your ass was bright red, your fluids coating the toy and dripping down your pussy a little bit. Ken licked up the toy from the middle to your opening, pressing it a little harder into you, sucking on your opening. Your back arched and you made one of those kitten noises that always made him become impossibly harder.

God, he needed to fuck you. He had so many ideas now, his mind thankfully able to focus solely on you and what all he would do to you before letting you rest.

“Oh, god, please be gentle,” you whimpered as you felt your leg grabbed, knowing he was about to tie you up again.

“Just gonna make you feel good,” he promised.

You turned your head to see his eyes, a layered mix of anger and fear and….he was trying not to cry.

“Baby,” you said softly, your voice floating into his ears, and he looked at you. “What is it? What are you feeling right now?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay -“

“I don’t need to feel anything.”

“But you’re feeling a lot right now.”

He changed his mind. He’d tie you up later. He moved you onto your back and you kept your legs closed.

“Talk to me, Ken. Let’s work through this together.”

“Don’t want to talk about it. Want to fuck you.”

“You’ll get to -“

“We’ll talk later.”

“Promise?”

“Open your legs for me.”

“Ken -“

“Open. Them.”

You kept your legs closed, attempting to sit up but Ken leaned over you.

“I need your legs open, y/n.”

“You want them open.”

“No, I need it.”

You shook your head. “Not until you talk to me.”

Ken sighed. He dropped the belt you hadn’t notice he had been holding in his hand on the bed beside you and leaned on his forearms to kiss you.

“What are you feeling right now?” You asked against his lips.

That you’ll be gone when I come tomorrow from work. That this will be the last time I ever hold you, feel you, hear the noises you make because of me. “Nothing.”

“Baby, please.”

“Let me back inside you.” His eyes stared into yours. “I swear I’ll tell you everything later.”

“How much later?”

He kissed you deeply again, hand reaching to push itself between your folds. “Soon.”

You relented and relaxed your legs so Ken could pull them apart. The moment your wet, pink folds were visible to him, he brought the belt down in a single, stinging blow.

You weren’t sure how your body reacted other than you struggling for breath, your vision dark behind your tightly shut eyelids, an almost static-like audio blocking your ears from hearing anything else more a moment. You heard Ken’s voice bringing you back, feeling his weight on top of you.

“Such a good girl. You’re going to be fine. Ride it out for me. I’m here.”

Your eyes opened and a loud whimper escaped from deep in your throat.

“You’re going to feel so incredible in just a moment.” Ken’s voice was soft, trying to soothe you. He gently brushed a finger against your clit and you scratched at his back in response, trying to find any way to ground yourself, but then he moved down your body and licked his tongue up you.

“Touch me, please,” Ken asked, and without thinking your hands gratefully pulled on his hair, thankful for something to grip and jerk on. Ken hummed happily, going back to consume your core, and you wondered where he’d learned all of this, if he’d thought it up or if he had maybe read it somewhere.

Like the last time he spanked you before eating you out, everything was incredibly pleasurable, but today times ten, your body experiencing the intense pain somehow making the pleasure even greater, every nerve and fiber stimulated.

Your lower stomach muscles were clenching as he worked his magic, the build-up of your next orgasm almost painful, but still in the best way.

“Need you to come for me again. Need you nice and wet and relaxed.”

“Why?” You almost didn’t want to know, your body still working to process all of this.

“You’ll see.”

Your orgasm hit fast and hard again, barely able to come back down from your high when Ken inserted the vibrator again and turned it on. You felt like you were having to force your brain to focus to move your limbs as you tried reaching down to turn it off but Ken intercepted, grappling with your thrashing arms until he had them pressed into the mattress beside your head, climbing on top of you and holding one of your legs open and down with his knee gently so as not to hurt you.

“Baby, baby, I’ve got you.”

You screamed in frustration, trying to raise your arms to no avail. “What if I wasn’t letting you recover when you needed to?” You wailed.

Ken arched an eyebrow and smiled down at you. “You have.”

“Not THIS much.”

“True. You’ll have to surprise me with it sometime.” Ken carefully turned you over onto your stomach again, holding your arms behind you. “Just ride it out, baby girl. You’ve got this.”

“Pleeaasee Ken. Please, please, please.” You almost sobbed with relief when the vibrator was turned off although it remained firmly within you, deep inside your walls while still covering your clit.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. Take your time.” Ken lay beside you, propped up on his arm, his fingers gliding up and down your back to soothe you.

He enjoyed the moment as long as his head let him. The quiet broken only by your jagged breaths and little noises as you worked to calm your body’s quivering, the softness and warmth of your skin underneath his fingers.

The voices began again, a sickening layered mix of everything he’d heard the therapist ask today. The one question threatening to overtake him completely, repeating itself, becoming more cruel each time he heard it.

“What if she does leave? What if she does leave? What if she leaves? What if she’s already left? She’s made the plans. She’s gone.”

Ken laid his head next to yours, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Tell me you love me.”

You mumbled something through your panting, your nails still gripping the comforter, trying to ground yourself.

“Please. I need it.”

“Love you.” The words were almost incoherent.

“Again.” Silence. “Please.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, y/n.”

Your eyes remained closed, feeling so incredibly tired that you were sure if Ken left you alone that you’d probably fall asleep within moments.

You felt your left leg being pulled toward the bed post again as the silky tie wrapped around it tightly then being attached to the post.

You can’t not be thinking about him when he’s not around, when you’re in class, when he’s at work…he wrapped the second tie around your right ankle, jerking a little harder than he meant to when he pulled the knot tight. He thought about you all the time, nonstop…he needed to make sure you always had a constant reminder of him.

He needed to make sure he made you sore.

The vibrator turned on again and your upper back grew tight as you felt like you might tear through the comforter while trying to hold onto something. You felt not one, but two of Ken’s fingers push inside you, your tight muscle stretching around them.

“How does this feel?” He asked.

“Ss..so..much…” You felt a third finger join his first two and your back arched. “I…so…full…”

“Mmmmmmm.” Ken watched at the way your muscle worked to relax around his fingers and the vibrator, being stretched out slowly. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me, remember?”

Oh. Dear. God. He wasn’t going to actually try and fuck you!!??!

“Ken, please think about this. You’re not going to fit.”

“That’s why I’m stretching you out with my fingers.” His free hand roamed over your lower back and ass. “I’m gonna fit inside you just fine.”

“But you won’t, though.”

“Just trust me.” He removed his fingers from you to spread your wetness around your ass hole, easily visible due to how wide your legs were being held open. He wouldn’t do anything without making sure you were okay with it, and he probably needed to wait for another day because he didn’t want to push you too much over your edge, but his focus kept snapping back to how this was the only area of you no one else had ever claimed before. No one else had touched you here, fucked you here. Maybe, if one day you relented, he could make you his in a way no one else had.

He tested just the tip of his thumb into that muscle and your legs went rigid.

“Is this okay?” He asked, genuinely wanting to make sure you were okay.

You were shocked how much it felt so good, a new pleasure you hadn’t exactly experienced before filling your entire lower region.

“Yes,” You breathed.

He rubbed his thumb just inside, moving it in small circles, and your vaginal opening clamped down onto the vibratory harder.

Fuucckk. Fuck fuck. Ken saw and heard how beautiful you’d be, experiencing anal sex for the first time with him, breaking you in by fucking you while fingering your virgin hole so you could orgasm around him before he’d sink his cock into-

No, focus here, now. He knew when you were nearing exhaustion and despite imagining how hot it would be to actually push you past what was comfortable for you because god, what if you loved it, what if he could pleasure you longer than usual after that, and he’d jerk himself off roughly in the shower while creating those scenarios in his head…he needed to make sure he kept himself in control, make sure you didn’t get hurt in any way.

He pulled his thumb out and pushed his throbbing cock against your opening partially taken up by the vibrator.

“Are you ready for me, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed, jerking against the leg restraints, wanting to plead for another break from the vibrator before going forward but also needing to feel exactly what this was about to be like.

“I’ll go slow.” He pushed his tip in then and you keened, Ken gasping loudly between how insanely tight you were, pressing into his member almost painfully, and the vibrator on the underside of his cock sending chills through his entire body. He gripped onto your hips, forcing himself still so he wouldn’t bottom out in you and hurt you. Your gasp sounded almost strangled, like you’d had the wind knocked out of you.

“Breathe, baby.”

“It hurts, ahhh, ugh, Ken, Ken…”

Please, please don’t make me stop, he thought. “Do I need to stop?”

Your voice was like velvet. “No. It hurts but it’s so fucking amazing.”

Ken pushed further inside, stopping again when your scream filled his ears - god, yes, please, so perfect, your voice only rising so loudly only for him - waiting for you to calm down a little again before going deeper.

He shut his eyes tightly trying not to cum right then. He’d never felt anything so tight, the vibrations exquisite, your voice finally fully drowning out all the awful fucking conversations and anxieties of the day. Finally, everything was quiet.

Finally, everything was just you.

He bottom out after the fourth time he thrust forward, needed to feel every inch of you as he leaned over you, holding himself up on his forearms. You lay groaning under him and he used his thumb to encourage the slightest turn of your head without straining your neck, kissing you so sweetly it felt contradictory to the amount of intense stimulation you were experiencing otherwise.

His thrusts were tender, almost intoxicated in nature, pulling almost all the way out before bottoming out inside you again, but everything somehow felt different this time.

You’d made love to him in the past, but he hadn’t been able to feel that “perfect” connection he kept hearing about in stupid romance movies, like it was some sort of magic that only existed in fiction. He didn’t know why today, but he finally felt connected to you. Like his lips were created specifically for yours and vice versa, your body only existed in this state of pleasure because of him, and obviously he had only ever felt anything like this with you.

You had tried to prepare yourself for Ken’s jealousy-fueled anxiety to consume him as soon as he cock was in you, his thrusts rough and his eyes blazing as you’d have to get used to the pain - albeit really, really good pain - until it subsided and everything only existed in a state of pleasure, but you hadn’t expected this: languid and sweet and god, you were thankful for it. You’d never been stretched this much, never had someone somehow this deep inside you, even if it only felt like it was the deepest you’d ever felt.

His hips picked up their pace but only a little, your bodies somehow seeming to move as one. Ken’s head fell into the pillow right next to where you were facing him, wanting to watch you but his eyes closing, feeling a little overstimulated himself.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he panted into the pillow. “You’re always so fucking good to me.”

“I need to come, Ken.” Your voice was weak.

He opened his eyes then. “Tell me what you need.”

He fucked your through your orgasm, sucking on your neck hard to mark you on this special occasion as your muscles clenched and spasmed in such a way that if you weren’t tied up and held down under Ken’d bodyweight that you would have ended up in the fetal position from your body automatically trying to curl up and away from how intense everything was.

Your whimpers mixed with a couple tears that rolled down your cheeks sent Ken over the edge, him finally losing what little control he’d held onto as he bottomed out into you over and over again until the waves calmed, and his body shook on top of your trembling frame.

He wanted to stay there and just kiss your neck and back, losing himself in you while his head swam with the aftermath of his pleasure, but he forced himself to stand up and pull himself out, removing the vibratory from you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, your body still shaking, because usually you’d have been able to calm down more by now.

“Y,y yes,” you stuttered. “Need…I don’t…kno-“

Ken ripped your ties off and turned you onto your back, your limbs limply falling onto the bed.

“I’ve got you,” Ken promised. He turned on the shower and coaxed you to sit up, your full bodyweight leaning against his chest while he held you after he’d brought you a glass of water.

He carried you into the shower and had tossed in one of those fruity scented shower bombs that you always loved after a long day at school. He crossed his legs in a way to where he could cuddle you while you rested on his lap without having to sit on the cold tile floor, and held your head tenderly while you leaned against him, bordering back and forth between being awake and drifting off to sleep.

Had he intentionally exhausted you to this extreme of a point to make sure he wouldn’t have to talk about all these stupidly hard emotions like he’d promised he would? He would keep his promise, he couldn’t ever imagine lying to you, but he didn’t want to do it today. He couldn’t.

But he would, no matter how much he didn’t want to, as soon as you asked him.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked, lips against your forehead.

“Mmmm…chocolate.”

He smiled. “Chocolate what? Cake? Ice cream? Just a bar of it?”

“Everything.” Your giggle was sleepy and weak, but it was perfect to him.

“Then I’ll get you everything,” he promised. “Also, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’d like to ask if maybe you’d like to go on a trip with me.”

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