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lovifie · 4 months

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Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.5K words

Warning/Notes: Soap x Reader, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, messy make out

This is the video from where the photo is, if you haven't seen it, You have to and if you have already, you are welcome.

The drive back to base seems neverending.

Once Price and Ghost managed to get you to stop crying and to breathe normally. The three of you pack the essentials, and by that, I mean you were hugged to Ghost like a koala while Price got what he could save from your house into a bag pack.

Most of your clothes were ripped or cut, so in the end, only some pieces of underwear, a couple of shirts, some pants and the pyjamas you were wearing were safe. Plus your jacket and shoes that were behind the door.

And that is how you found yourself now. Sobbing, sitting in the middle of the back seat, bag pack on your lap, Simon’s hand on your knee from the passenger seat as Price drives.

“Tomorrow morning, you are going to call your job, and tell them that you are going to take a couple of days off, okay?” Price asks looking at you through the rearview mirror. “And we will take everything you need, we will buy clothes, find you a better place to stay, anything you need.”

You shake your head feeling the tears come back and you hide your face behind your hands as you start to cry again. “I can't.” You cry. “What can't you do?” Simon asks turning his head to look at you.

“Miss more work days, I have already taken too many. I can't afford to lose more.” You mumble whining out of mental exhaustion.

“Hey, stop. Don't get carried away, alright?” Simon says rubbing your thigh. “Let's not think about that right now, tomorrow tell your boss the situation. Tell them that your house was broken into, that you need a couple of days to get everything in order. Depending on what your boss says, we'll work from there. Alright, birdie?”

You nod weakly as you focus on taking deep breaths. When you finally arrive, both men get out of the car and Price opens the door for you. You step out still holding your bag tight, either men try to take it from your hands and walk along between both men.

Their hands find their way to your back, Price to the bottom and Simon to the top, reassuring shielding you from the chilly breeze of the night.

“How about a cuppa?” Simon asks looking at you, a smile visible in his eyes, and you can't help it but to give him a weak smile back nodding. “Then, we will find you a room so you can sleep as much as you want.”

Sleep does sound amazing, taking into consideration that last night you had little sleep and you have been on the move ever since.

Price and Simon walk you to a lousy room, many recruits sitting together. The mess hall, you figure. In the middle of the room, there are a couple of sofas, and you quickly recognise Soap and Gaz, sprawled together in one of them looking at Gaz's phone.

Most of the soldiers that are finishing their dinner, or just enjoying each other company before going to bed look up when they hear the door opening. Their gazes linger for a second too long on you until you can feel Ghost throwing them a warning sign in the form of a look and they peel their eyes away.

Gaz and Soap look up when they hear the door open, and just for a second, they smile at you before they furrow their browns when they see everyone's expression.

“What happened? How come the wee lass so spooked?” Soap asks sitting straight and patting the seat between him and Kyle.

Price’s hand on your lower back softly pushes you forward to sit down before he answers: “She’s still a bit in shock, Soap. We’ll talk about it later.”

You sit down between Soap and Gaz, backpack still in your hands, and pull your knees up hugging your legs. Gaz points to your backpack and asks: “You sleeping over tonight? You should definitely sleep in Soap’s and my room. Ghost and Price have their own individual ones, but they snore.” He whispers the last part pulling a little smile from you.

You lean your head on Soap's shoulder when he lays his arm on the couch behind your back. The man is a living furnace and shortly after you find yourself seeking more contact.

Price sits on the second sofa in front of you and just a second later Ghost appears back, cup of tea on hand, as he gives it to you. You take it from his hands, yours still shaking just a little bit as you do, and you rest it on top of your knee for support.

Kyle's hand find its way to your other knee giving it a light squeeze. “How's your arm, luv?” You look at your elbow and shrug your shoulder. “I haven't even had time to check it, good I think, it hasn't bothered me.”

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” Price asks focusing on your face after doing a quick check-up of you. You shake your head: “No, a headbutt on the ceiling if anything.”

Price nods, satisfied with your answer and shakes his head at the sergeant's questioning look. You look down to the tea, thoughts getting to you. You saw your neighbour get arrested, and if he had gotten free they would have told you. So it must have been someone who works for them, and if he wasn't arrested already is because they didn't really know who works for them.

“What are you thinking about, birdie?” Ghost brings you back to reality with just a question. “Am I safe here?” You ask, with a shake in your voice.

“Yes.” Price's answer is concise, full of trust in his own word, leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you are with us, nothing and nobody is getting to you.”

You look at his face, almost as if expecting him to burst laughing at you for trusting them. A voice in your head screams at you not to do it, you barely know them. But you thought you knew your neighbour and now he's trying to kill you, so.

You nod and take a sip of the tea. Warming you inside and letting you relax just a bit.

“How about a distraction?” Soap asks smiling at you. “Have we told ye aboot the time Gaz fell from a helo and was hangin’ from a rope like a yo-yo?”

“Fucking hell, Johnny. Shut up!” Gaz complains laughing next to you.

The time went a bit more smoothly when Soap decided to talk about everyone's embarrassing stories, you could still tell he wasn't telling everything, keeping the classified information for himself, but still telling enough to have you laughing, gasping and asking with interest as he told.

By the time you finished your tea, you were already in a greater mood, the attack from today moved to the back of your head. Price lends you a hand to help you stand up while Ghost takes the empty cup from you. Gaz and Soap keep their word to share the room for the night against Price and Ghost's complaint that they should let you rest alone. Until the words “I don't really want to be alone.” leave your mouth and that's the end of the bickering.

Soap and Gaz barracks are quite simple, two single beds against opposite walls, two desks, two little bookshelves and two closets. Almost as if there was a mirror in the middle of the room if it wasn't for the little trinkets and details on each side letting you know the right bed was Soap's and the one on the left was Gaz's.

After a quick rock, paper, scissor championship, it is decided you will be sharing Soap's bed. And since you are already in your pyjamas, you get inside the bed quickly, ready to be done with the day. Soap lays behind you, hugging your middle and dropping a kiss to your temple. “Sleep tight, bonnie.”

A ray of light erupts from the bathroom door that is practically closed, almost as if whoever closed was afraid the click of the door closing would wake you up. At first, you don't think most of it, Soap must have gotten up to pee. But then you listen, and it doesn't sound like that's what he is doing in the bathroom.

Little grunts can be heard as well as the sound of skin hitting skin. You stand up from the bed, curiosity taking control of your body and walking you to peak at the door. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't. But once you lay your eyes on him, you know you are fucked.

Soap is barechested, leaning against the sink with a hand supporting him while the other strokes his dick. He has his eyes closed, head low with his mouth open slightly, and small grunts and whines leave his lips.

The grey sweatpants slightly lowered, allowing you to see the curve of his lower back as well as what you trust is the girthiest dick you have ever laid your eyes onto. The tip looks red, hungry for release, pearls of precum dripping from it making your mouth water.

There is a turmoil of thoughts in your head, you keep repeating to yourself that you need to place some distance between yourself and these men. But the moment any of them show any skin or any emotion of want towards you, you throw yourself at them.

Three times have you gone through this, your mind telling you is a bad idea and your pussy pushing you at their arms. This time is not different, and before you know it, you are inside the bathroom locking the door making Soap jump.

“Steamin’ jesus, bonnie.” He says shoving his dick inside his pants and turning his back at you to hide his tent. “Knock before entering, lass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not feeling sorry and you slowly walk to him. “I just wanted to help…”

“What? What you me-” He gets cut mid-question when he feels your hand grazing his tip, pressing your chest to his back and surrounding his waist with your arm. You use a hand to feel his abdomen and the other to softly caress the length of his dick inside his pants.

“But I can go back to bed if you don't want…” You say looking at the back of his head. “Don't you dare.” He answers grabbing your wrist when you try to take it back and he looks at you over his shoulder.

“Ye dinnae have to do it if ye dinnae want… but if you want, I'll take anythin’ ye throw at me, bonnie.” He says turning around and cupping your face after lowering his pants again to free his erection. “I had to run to the bathroom cause ye were rubbing yer arse against me on yer sleep, I was about to explode.”

“Well then, I think it's only fair I fix it, right?” You ask looking at him cheekly. He leans down and kisses you smiling into the kiss. Little groans slide into your mouth as you stroke him and you can feel his hips thrust softly into your hand as well.

For the last two days these men have only but given to you, and as much as you have enjoyed every single second of it, it is about time you give back.

You pick Soap's hand from your cheek and push it up to your hair. “Make sure to keep my hair away from my face, all right?”

He looks at you confused but quickly gets the idea when you kneel before him. He quickly brushes your hair back with his finger, doing a ponytail at the back of your head and groans deeply when you give a kitty lick to his tip.

You pop his tip inside your mouth sucking softly as you circle it with your tongue. Stroke the rest with both your hands, unable to reach your thumb with your index because of the girth and slowly bobbing your head up and down.

Soap stays mumbling curse words under his breath, low enough to not be able to hear him and you wish you were not hiding in the bathroom and could hear him scream. You think back to when Price ate you out, did he get as turn-on satisfying you as you are getting doing it to Soap?

He opens his eyes to lock into yours and you look up to him through your lashes as you start to get more inside your mouth.

“Fokin’ hell, bonnie. Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last a second.” He says struggling to keep his eyes open.

You chuckle inside your head, and keep getting closer and closer to his hipbone. You must praise Soap's self-commitment to not cum, even though you can feel the grip on your hair getting tighter. When you feel his pubes brush against your nose you pull back taking a breath and look at him. When you lock eyes with each other, you smile and say before opening your mouth: “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

For a second you get scared that Soap will just cum as you speak when you physically see the shudder that goes through him. But then he grips your hair back making you look up to him and he kisses your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Spit, drool and precum all mixing between your tongues and when he draws back to talk a threat of spit connect your lips. “You are going to fucking kill me, lass.” He mumbles and stands up to full height.

He doesn't let go of your hair and when you stick your tongue out he slaps it with his cock. “Gonna fuck yer throat raw, bonnie. Bite if it gets too much.” He smirks before shoving his dick down your throat in a single thrust and beginning to fulfil his word.

“Fuck, bonnie.” He says slurring his words between moans. “Taking my cock so well, such a good fucking lass, so, so good, fuck.”

Your visions get blurry with the tears from fighting your gag reflex, your hands rest on Soap's thighs and you can feel them flex with each thrust. If it wasn't for your pants you know you would be literally dripping on the floor, never did you though it could turn you on this much. But seeing Soap becoming such a mess, not being even able to speak, just mumbles and curses leaving his mouth.

“Let me cum inside, bonnie, please. I wanna see you drink it, please, please, bonnie, please.” He begs looking at your face with a pained expression, and almost as if he was waiting for your answer when you slightly nod he grunts and you feel his spent travel down your throat. He stays like that for another second and finally pulls out, you open your mouth showing him your work and he smiles as he bends down to kiss you again. “Fucking beautiful, love.”

The next morning you are woken up by an alarm and just a second later a door slamming shut. “I call dibs on the bathroom!” Kyle shouts making you jump.

You turn around on Soap's arms, nuzzling your face on his chest and sighing satisfied. “Eejit” Soap mumbles with his chin resting on top of your head.

“Do we have to share the bathroom the three of us?” You ask against his chest.

“Ye didnae seem to mind sharing it with me last night.” He mumbles back and you feel his chest tumble with a laugh.

“Aw, shut up, Johnny.” You say chuckling and yawning. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I slept just two hours.”

“0540, not too far off to be honest.” He answers and when your half-sleep brain processes what time it is you look at him as if he has just insulted you. “What?”

“Why the fuck are we up before 6 in the morning? Like, seriously, the fuck?” You ask grumpy as you sit up pulling your legs over Soap's torso. He caresses one of your calves and flexes his arm resting his head on his hand. If you were not so bothered to be awakened so early, you would admire his physique.

“This is the military, love.” He says smiling. “Ye look like an angry kitty.”

You pull the pillow from under his head and hit him with it making him laugh. “Do we need to be ready before six?”

“Yeah, actually, that's when we are supposed to have breakfast. We are meeting Lt. and Price there.” He says taking the pillow from his face. “Ye should get dressed.”

You groan standing up and picking your bag from the side of the bed. You pull your clothes out, and notice that you can barely form a full outfit; you sigh and sit on the floor looking at Soap who is now on his side, elbow on the bed and head resting on his hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and says: “That's all ye packed, lassie? I thought ye were staying more time.”

He stands up, walks to his closet and picks something from inside just to throw it to your head. An uf sound leaves your throat and you pick it up to see it, it is a sweatshirt with MacTavish written on the back. “It is cold this early in the morning, we don't want ye freezing up. Get dressed.”

He bends down to drop a kiss on your lips leaving you a bit stunned and enters the bathroom without knocking making Gaz protest from the inside. “Stop screaming, it's me. I'm just giving the wee lass some privacy, Gaz.”

You chuckle to yourself and quickly get dressed, putting on the only pair of jeans you have, and a weird t-shirt from some kind of ad you used to wear to sleep, feeling really grateful it is covered with Soap's sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here, luv?” Price asks standing up when he sees you enter the mess hall following Soap and Gaz. “Everything alright?”

The expression on your face must be portrait-worth because you can see even Simon's eyes twirl with a smile.

“What do you mean what I'm doing here?” You ask looking at Price, until you hear a little snickering coming from both Gaz and Soap and you finally put two and two together. You turn to Soap and when you finally make eye contact with him, he burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, bonnie. It was just too perfect of an opportunity to waste it.” He says raising his hand in false innocence. He tries to side-hug you, but you move quickly raising your chin offended and walking up to Price. “I'll fetch ye breakfast as a peace offering, all right, love?”

“That's the minimum you can do!” You exclaim still offended and stick your tongue out to him as you sit between where Ghost is sitting and where Price was sitting, him following you.

“Sorry about that, love.” Price says rubbing your tight. “I told them muppets to let you sleep in today. Did you at rest good?”

Gaz sits in front of you with a smirk, and you don't know if he knows, but you are sure that if he does he will snitch on you so stay on edge making sure not to break eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I did. The bed was surprisingly comforting, and Soap was a weighted blanket so.” You answer still looking at Gaz. You can feel Price's questioning look and Ghost's smirk.

“So Soap was comfortable?” Gaz asks smiling.

“Yeah, quite comfortable.” You answer.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

You don't know how, but he knows.

“Is that why you followed him to the bathroom when he went in the middle of the night?” He asks.

Fucking Garrick.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You respond looking at your nails.

“I'm talking about when you into the bathroom and helped-”

CLANK

Soap puts the tray of food in front of you just in time, cutting Gaz's claim and starts to enunciate the food he bought. “I got ye coffee cause it's obvious yer not a morning person, I brought ye toast, some fruits and a little cereal cause I didn't really know what ye wanted. And I bought ye chocolate pudding.” He says putting the little cup on your hands, giving you a kiss on your head. “For sucking my dick so good last night.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, happy that he didn't even need to tell anything, while Ghost chuckles under his breath and Price sighs rubbing his forehead.

“I think there is a conversation that we definitely need to have.” Price announces. “For everyone's sake.”

Hiii 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best

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sashi-ya · 16 days

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𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him. Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so. “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too. And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too. Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

#kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 smut #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soushirou #hoshina soshirou x reader

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twobluejeans · 8 months

Text

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 11: 1997 y/n’s version promo series masterlist

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 11! i’m sorry for starving y’all, hope this makes up 💀💗.

july 22, 2023

By Glamour

july 22, 2023 8:16AM

Just a few weeks ago, Charles Leclerc seemed to be shimmering with joy about his relationship with Lola Ransdell. “He’s happier than he’s been in a long time,” one insider told Us Weekly. Friends of Leclerc and Ransdell were texting a New Yorker writer who profiled Ransdell to say, off the record, that “this time, it’s real.”

Close insiders were reporting that the Ferrari driver and Youtuber were even planning to share Leclerc’s estate in Monaco, a house he once shared with singing scarlet ex, Y/n L/n. In a recent youtube video, Ransdell herself told her fanbase, “I’ve just never been this happy in my life, in all aspects of my life, ever before.”

Just weeks later, Leclerc’s and Ransdell’s relationship is over. So how did things go from sparks flying to their last kiss so quickly? Let’s hear from the sources.

Shortly after TMZ first reported the breakup, without a reason, a source had more for Entertainment Tonight. “They are both extremely busy and realized they’re not really compatible with each other,” they said.

That checks out — Leclerc had been off the road when their relationship went public, but the summer season of formula one recently kicked off a marathon in Britain, early July, leaving little time for their rendezvous between Ransdell’s own schedule.

But immediately, Leclerc’s split looked and sounded like a bit of image rehabilitation given the multiple controversies following Ransdell. Their relationship became controversial as soon as it began, as fans were quick to note that Randell shared uncanny similarities to ex, Y/n L/n.

Left to right: Ransdell, L/n via instagram

As more insider comments poured in post-split, a narrative seemed to form that their relationship was just a low-key rebound all along.

“It was always casual,” a source told People. “It was never serious,” another told Us. And in an instantly memed quote, another insider told People, “They were never boyfriend-girlfriend or exclusive.” If you read between the lines of the reporting during their relationship, though, this doesn’t seem too far off.

That source who told Us how much “happier” Leclerc was with Ransdell did go on to add, “It’s hard to tell if they’ll go the distance.” And another seemed to tell People that Ransdell was just Leclerc’s sidepiece while he was away from his main squeeze, the Hungary Grand Prix itself. “He’s very focused on his job but is enjoying hanging out with Ransdell when he is off,” they said.

Sure, not all the insiders saw things that way. The source who initially confirmed their relationship to the The Sun said Leclerc and Ransdell were “madly in love” at the time. (Maybe they even said as much themselves.) Another had told Us that the couple was “moving fast,” adding, “They really enjoy each other’s company and want to spend as much time together as possible.” And even we saw the public kissing, cuddling, and late nights at Leclerc’s apartment.

Leclerc and Ransdell spotted at a beach in Malibu last week via@tmz

Nearly every source who confirmed Leclerc’s breakup added that he was just having “fun” with Ransdell. “He wasn’t ready for another serious relationship just yet,” a source told Us, after his previous split from six-year girlfriend Y/n L/n.

Leclerc and L/n spotted at the same beach in malibu, just a year before Leclerc revisited the spot with the Australian Influencer via@tmz

Crucially, that source added that his friends weren’t surprised by the split, echoing a detail from that initial ET report. “Charles’s friends want what’s best for him and aren’t shocked that their relationship fizzled out,” the ET source said. “In fact, some of them even encouraged him to break up with her—his family included.”

So, the classic case of friends and family supporting a relationship in the moment even though they can already see the end. Take it from a “Page Six” source: “Everyone who really knows him has been saying all along that this was a fun, good-time thing that would last as long as it lasted and would be no big deal once it was done.”

That insider went on to call the relationship “a summertime thing,” comparing it to his 2015 fling with Charlotte Siné.

Leclerc and Sine back in 2015, via @charlottesiine on instagram in now deleted posts.

To this unusually chatty and surprisingly profound insider, this wasn’t even a proper breakup. “It’s a natural evolution of a fun little thing whose moment is over,” they said.

Or, at least, whose moment is over for now. As one of People’s sources added after the split, “Who knows what could happen again.”

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• Lola Ransdell seen leaving Charles Leclerc’s Home crying moments before news of breakup.

• Charles Leclerc and Lola Ransdell have unfollowed each other on instagram

• A look back at Charles Leclerc’s Relationships..so far

TWITTER, july 22

INSTAGRAM, july 22

liked by sabrinacarpenter, aarontaylorjohnson, gigihadid, and 8,829,184 others

yourinstagram good in goodbye. single & music video out 7/28. meet me behind the mall.

View all 17,828 comments

y/nserastour GIRL WHAT THE FUCK

lovinghimwasred i understood that reference ☝️

peteparkerml WHAT IS DREW STARKEY DOING HERE???

madisonbaileybabe my favs in one room omg

obxstarkey it’s just a music video 😀 it’s just a music video 😀 it’s just a music video 😀

obxscenes the devil (and kris jenner) work hard but y/n l/n works harder.

drewstarkey so much for summer love

y/nswizzle i just know this song is abt charles..

charlesleclercfan11 y/nswizzle she needs to leave him alone atp like it’s so obvious and embarrassing. she’s just so obsessed and using his name to stay relevant.

yourinstagram charlesleclercfan11 if you listened closely, you'd know my music's about my life, not a single person. but hey, i guess 'obsession' sells records, right?

madelyncline lowkey offended u didn’t chose me as your love interest

yourinstagram madelyncline dw babe you can be it in the next one 💘

libray/n yourinstagram WHAT DO U MEAN NEXT ONE???

TWITTER, july 22

INSTAGRAM, july 22

liked by landonorris, bejeweledleclerc, and 789,174 others

tmz_tv #Y/nL/n appears to have confirmed the dating rumors about her and #AaronTaylorJohnson! See video of Y/n and Aaron driving the getaway car from dior’s backstage after party to a private dinner near the singer scarlet’s manhattan apartment.

view all 137,929 comments

landonorris OH SHIT

szasbutterfly the 1997 y/n’s version promo is insane

kardashianclips I dont understand why it's a big thing ...like she's always dating somebody

kanye_ontop she wrote 10 songs that night

goatwest kanye_ontop 1. "London Love Story" 2. "Stage Lights and Tea" 3. "Theatrical Love Affair" 4. "Leading Man" 5. "Behind the Scenes" 6. "Silver Screen Across the Sea" 7. "Cinema Nights" 8. "West End Serenade" 9. "Take One" 10. "Scene Stealer"

salvatoredelrey this relationship is so 2010s coded

bellyxconrad the beginning of another beautiful song for us #your/fandoms/name

user31 maybe y/n should focus on her music and less on her love life. It's getting old 😒

TWITTER, july 22

ally's radio 📻 : HI GUYS IM BACK! sorry for the two month hiatus 💀 anywyas, SECRETS OUT ATJ IS THE NEW LOVERRR (bless up) (henry was so, so close) drew isn’t going to interfere w the story, just thought it’d be fun to throw him in there bc he’s hot😍. what do we think? also what do we think charles’s reaction is gonna be? lmk bc i’m so curious how y’all think this is gonna play out. i have an idea, but i’m welcome to others ofc.

taglist:@incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife@mrsmaybank13@black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx@lilsiz@ohthemisssery@leclerclvr

#heartbreak on tour #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charlesleclerc #f1 imagine #carlos sainz jr #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x platonic!reader #lando norris #lando norris x platonic!reader #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #forumla one #f1 wags

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lokis-army-77 · 10 months

Text

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you.

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door.

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken.

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair.

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?”

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?”

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks.

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself.

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?”

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile.

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back.

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.”

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard.

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense.

“You wound me, Sugar. Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him.

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf.

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body.

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.”

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe.

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap.

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress.

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth.

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss.

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.”

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.”

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?”

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.”

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs.

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head.

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.”

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel.

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper.

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air.

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.”

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home.

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?”

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked.

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his.

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light.

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker.

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think.

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser.

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face.

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display.

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin.

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress”

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers.

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs.

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers.

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years.

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace.

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on.

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go.

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold.

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer.

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more.

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat.

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back.

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass.

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?”

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?” Condescension drips thickly from his words.

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.”

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?”

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you.

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?”

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go.

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind.

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind.

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor.

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight.

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them.

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much.

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared.

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.”

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching.

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire.

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.”

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.”

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release.

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?”

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is.

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.”

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had.

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum.

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath.

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?”

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.”

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker. Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after.

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss.

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.”

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.”

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone.

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen.

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.”

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun.

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!”

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?”

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders.

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older!eddie munson

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c3berus · 3 days

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍 (𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆) reunites with his collage professor, however this time his fantasies cum in an almost obsessive way.

𝗧𝗪: yandere tendencies, cheating, taboo, drugging, overstimulation, a bit of smut. use of yellow color, married male reader, sub! afab konig, dom! male reader

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 — 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

tobias waismann or konig was a filthy rich businessman, just freshly 23. though he had one issue, he had no one to share his hard work with. no one to dote on and care for. his career had made him so busy that he had never batted an eye on just what he would do once he’d become successful. he needed something no someone to fill the void in his heart, and the ache to his pussy.

his “love life” was just meaningless empty fucks. none of them ever fuck him how he preferred it, they usually left him dazed and unsatisfied no one ever did it how he yearned for it. none of them were real men. they were meaningless boys, immature, inexperienced boys. he hated it. he craved something..older, something mature.

konig’s thoughts were interrupted when whatever divine power practically handed his solution right over..his 8 years older solution.

—

“one of the usual.” you rasped, moving to lean on the bar’s edge. you let out a rough sigh, these past weeks were just insufferable. stupid deadlines, assignments that were way above your pay grade quite literally, lazy students who expect overachieving grades, it was a shit show. on top of all of that, your wife had been practically clawing down your back about you going to bars. you were quite vexed.

“long day professor?” a very familiar voice rung out from your right. you smiled before you could help it and turned to meet the eyes of your old student. tobais waismann, god he looked amazing. while you two conversed you couldn’t help but let your mind run with your thoughts of him. you watched his mouth, lips so full, you wondered how he’d look sucking you off.

then your eyes trained to his neck, the neck that you ached to fill with marks and pretty bruises, your dick could second that. finally, you reached his eyes, his big innocent eyes. you loved how they were filled with emotion as he talked about his job, but you wanted to see his face flushed and his tears mixing with your spend as he felt everything and nothing all the same. your eyes darkened, he awoke something dar- no. primal..in you.

you couldn’t deny your attraction for him, if you did? you’d be a liar, and a stupidly shameful fool that cupid himself would strike dead. your puppy couldn’t have that as his beloved now could he?

—

soon it grew into the latest hour and you both big your goodbyes. as he headed for the door you let your eyes wander, his pants definitely did him well, emphasizing every slutty, plump part of him with rigor. you weren’t complaining, it was quite the sight. you tore your eyes from the door as he disappeared behind it.

you turned you attention to the bar inhabitants around you, observing. a few minutes later you were gathering your things to head home, as you walked out of the bar you rubbed your hands together and headed for your truck. as you were approaching your driver’s door your name was called from behind you.

“mr y-y/n,” konig started as you turned to him. “you wouldn’t happen to know anything about motorcycles would you?”

you glanced behind konig looking at his bike before turning on your car, you turned on the heat and allowed konig to sit in it as you headed to his bike. you crouched by his bike and started your inspection.

—

konig smirked while he sat in the truck, fingers tracing the shape of the part he took off of his bike. he watched the way your arms flexed and prodded at his bike. he would have you tonight, he was sure if it. he had a carefully arranged plan, it was foolproof. his pussy throbbed at the view of you placing his bike on your truck bed. he felt his finger brush along the pill in his pocket.

his game has started..

—

you got into your truck before pulling out of the parking lot, not looking at tabias you spoke lighting a cigarette. “you’re missing a part, i have said part at the den, we can swing by and get it and i can fix your bike so you can be on your way, that’s okay with you love?” you didn’t miss how he shuffled in his seat before nodding.

you made it home and took his bike off your bed, before inviting him in for another drink. as you both made it into your house, you placed your keys in the bowl that was on the stand that you placed in the entrance hall, noting your wives were gone. probably off to see that massage therapist…

you sighed and led him to your kitchen, you talked for a bit before making your way to the liquor cabinet, your laughter was cut short by the sound of your wives stomping and angry mutters. you didn’t even notice that she had arrived. as soon as her sights set on you she seethed, spewing curses, you couldn’t even focus on what she was so mad about, wanting her to leave. she was a pest, a nuisance, she was interrupting your time with your beloved.

—

konig silently watched and seethed at the sight of some cheap whore yelling at his schatz. she didn’t feel konigs glare, neither of you did, to busy yelling back and forth at each other. konig thought of all the ways he would get rid of her, how he’d torture her for even raising her sickening voice at you. she doesn’t know how to worship you, how you please and pamper you, but konig does, he always has. it’s time you saw it for yourself.

he was brought back to the present by a slap that echoed through the walls. he immediately looked up, a shocked look in his face. she..she had slapped you. konig took a step towards her, fist closing, before she stormed out of the house. tires screeching at her departure.

his eyes immediately went to you, shocked that you were already looking at him. his stomach dropped at the dark look you were giving him, you looked like a predator locking in on prey. god, did he fucking love it. his pussy practically flooded with arousal. he took a step towards you and your eyes followed his every move, silent. “h-how about that drink?” he stammered cursing his nervousness, this was his game, he needed to get back in control, and fast.

you stalked up to him, drink in hand as you stopped in front of him, and placed the drink onto the table beside both of you. konig heard you mumble something about the bathroom as you walked past him. his heart hammered, it was time. he grabbed two glasses, fixed your drinks and leaned against the table. he wiped his hands on his pants before unbuttoning two of his buttons and checking to see if his hair looked desirable.

—

as you made your way back to konig, frustration and arousal were the most intense feelings you’d felt. you just wanted to pump your load into him for the rest of the night and make him round with the amount of cum you’ll empty into him. you walked back into the kitchen to see that he listened to you well.

he leaned against the table both your drinks in his hands. you grabbed your drink and sat at the table, not missing the way konig stared at you. he waited on you to drink it, you took a sip and that’s when you felt it.

you stupid little boy didn’t make sure the pill had dissolved completely. you made sure not to let your body give away anything before placing your glass down and smiling almost predator like.

—

it took less than 20 minutes to have konig laid onto the top of the table staining it with the amount of times he’s cum around you. you rutted into him brutally, aiming to hit his prostate with every pump of your cock. the squelch of your cum spraying out of his cunt with every thrust was so disgustingly good.

he was covered in cum, who’s? you couldn’t remember or care. you’d been at it for a while, you loved this look, you made sure to commit it to memory, permanently ingrained into your soul. the dazed empty look in his eyes, the tears that waterfalled down his cheeks, the way his tongue practically hung out of his mouth like some pathetic dog, drooling everywhere. and the way he held you with vice was just begging you to fuck your kids into him and stain his insides white.

He was renaissance art.

He was the thrill romeo felt when he finally kissed juliet

you would let the world burn for him

he was your god and you, a far to gone devotee. you wanted to worship him, to break him, to shape him to your liking.

He…was your sick, pathetically sweet obsession.

you were strewn out of your thoughts by the lack of noise from your puppy. you came for the 5th time and glanced down at konig. he was completely fucked stupid. he panted like a bitch in heat and involuntarily twitched. you stopped fucking into him. “what’s the color puppy?” you waited on your question to register into his mush mind, basking in his glow. he blinked and looked at you. “yellow sir.” he whimpered grinding onto your dick slightly and twitching when he managed to find his prostate. you knew he wanted more but simply couldn’t take it, it didn’t want to ruin your new toy.

you nodded, smiled and kissed temple then his lips, tasting yourself on him before pulling out despite his whines and babbling. you sunk to your knees, dragging his hips along with you. you kissed and bit at his thighs, leaving marks like they were freckles peppering his skin. konig begged you to make him cum before shushed him, repeatedly kissing his puffy, red pussy. he twitched with every kiss and tried to push away from you while shaking his head no trying to pull you back into his pussy, he believed that that’s where you belonged, bust deep into him fucking him absolutely mad. his mind wanted it, but his body couldn’t handle it.

you started to lick him clean, pushing any of your cum that slipped out back with you fingers. he came again and slumped comfortably and completely, rubbing over his stomach, toying with the cum that was in his stomach.

you finished cleaning him up before plugging him up and carrying him to your bathroom to wash up.

—

after you a good bath, you and konig laid in you bed his head on your chest, he was asleep, your activities wearing him out. you stayed up, deciding that you were going to divorce your wife and peruse your true love. as you finally dozed off, you felt a warm leak of something on your dick. you opened your eyes and looked under the covers to see konig kitty licking at your head. you sighed and smiled, putting the cover down once again and gently holding your husbands hair as he sucked you off.

cupid is a bastard. a smart, cunningly great bastard.

and you’d thank him everyday for his gift.

thee end. fun fact, this was longer and more detailed but tumblr kind of glitched out and i had to re write 4 hours worth of work just clipped. am i happy about the outcome?, yes. was it frustrating? also yes. did you like it? ill leave that answer to the masses. also, i liked konig to have an actual name so i named him, is it fitting?

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l1tw1ck · 9 months

Text

Neighbors

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️Word Count: 2,321🕷️

[Part Two] | AFAB Language Used

Alternate Universe: Miguel has a daughter

im very not normal about this man

CW: Drunk Sex, Size Kink, Dom/Sub, Oral, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Daddy Kink, Bathroom Sex, Squirting, Creampie

The neighbors invited you over for a housewarming party and you decided to go. They offered free wine and an assortment of baked goods and other foods, of course you went. What you weren't expecting, was to see your crush and neighbor, Miguel. You’ve known him for a pretty long time and you assumed he wouldn't be here. You wonder what, or who, convinced him.

“Hey, Miguel. I'm surprised to see you here.” You walk over to him.

“Oh, I wasn't going to come but..” He laughs. “Gabi told me she wants me to meet someone new and give her a little sibling. She's so adamant on it but she doesn't even know how it works. The first time she asked, she didn't mention a partner but I told her I don't want any more kids if I don't have one. One little rascal is enough.” He shakes his head. “Now she's obsessed with finding me a husband.”

“What does Gabriella think of me?” You ask.

Miguel’s thankful you can't tell he’s blushing. “Well, she's really fond of you…She said she'd like the two of us to…to be together.”

“Yeah? That's good. It's nice that the daughter of the father I'm pursuing is rooting for me.”

He feels his heart beating faster. “The father you're…pursuing?”

“You heard me.”

“You- you don't have to. Pursue me. I…” He looks down at his feet then back at you. “I already want you.”

“If that's the case, why don't we go to my place and make baby number two?” You chuckle.

“Take me on a date first, player.” He laughs.

“I’d love to. Are you free tomorrow night? What do you think about going out drinking? There's a nice bar around here that serves food.”

“Well, luckily for you, Gabi’s having a sleepover tomorrow. Why don't you pick me up at 8?”

“Sure thing. Wear something sexy.”

Miguel smirks. “Only if you wear a suit.”

“Deal.”

“Gabi, you're gonna be late!” Miguel stands in her doorway, hands on his hips while he watches her frantically pack her bag. She knows her friend won't mind if she comes later than expected but Miguel’s nagging is making her feel like she's gonna get crucified for being late.

“Calm down, papá!” She zips up her backpack and slips it on her shoulders.

“Come on, mija! Let’s go!” He hurries downstairs, Gabriella following closely behind.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

“I- Because your friend will be upset!” He puts on a pair of shoes that are easy to take off.

Gabriella stops and crosses her arms. “Liar.”

Miguel sighs. “I’m…I’m going on a date tonight.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?! With who?”

“...[Name].”

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get you two together for ages!”

Miguel laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, I need time to get ready.”

Gabi makes a face that resembles a certain fictional yellow sponge’s face. She looks very excited and veryy interested to find out all the details of your date. She’ll have to pester him about it tomorrow morning. Miguel will have to come up with a kid friendly retelling.

Miguel comes back home two hours before 8. The drive was only 30 minutes but he wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to get ready. He hasn't gone on a date in years, he’s so anxious.

He digs deep into his closet, pulling out a satin red dress he bought impulsively last year. He had nowhere to wear it but his friend convinced him to try it on and he loved the way he looked in it. He had to buy it, along with a matching pair of heels, just in case he got the opportunity to wear it. He internally thanks himself and his friend for their past decision as he slips it on. He admires himself in the mirror. You’re gonna love this. He searches for his unused pair of heels and puts them on. He struggles a little to walk but he’ll get used to it.

He walks over to his dresser and opens up a drawer, pulling out a makeup bag. He doesn't wear makeup much, he usually just covers up his eyebags, but he wants to look good for you today so he’ll try using the thankfully not expired makeup he has. He hopes you like it.

You wait outside Miguel’s door with a bouquet of red roses. Ah, first date jitters. You haven't felt like this in a while. Miguel opens the door. Fuck. He looks gorgeous.

“You look amazing, Miguel..” You look at him in awe.

“Thank you..” He smiles. “You clean up nice.”

“Why thank you.” You smile back and hand him the roses.

“These are beautiful.” He takes in the floral scent. “Let me put them in water.” He hurries inside and finds an empty vase. You wait patiently for him until he comes back.

“Your carriage awaits, my prince.” You wink, reaching your hand out. Miguel takes your hand and follows you to the car. “I figured getting a driver would be better, since we’ll both be drinking.” You open the car door. Miguel gets in and then you get in after him.

“I really feel like royalty now.” Miguel laughs.

“You should, because you are. Whenever I’m with you, I want you to feel like a prince. You deserve to be treated like royalty.”

Miguel looks at you, lovestruck.

“It might be too early to say this but…I love you, Miguel, and I’m always going to make sure you know that.”

“I love you too.” He’s smiling so much it hurts.

After about an hour and a half of drinking, the both of you are veryy drunk.

“Did you bring condoms?” Miguel asks, interrupting a previously wholesome conversation.

“...I didn't think you wanted to have sex already.”

He frowns. “Go buy some.”

“I- I can't.” You look at him sheepishly. “I actually tried to buy some at the stores near here and uh…they don't have my size.”

Miguel stares at you. You can almost see a loading symbol over his head. “You’re too small?”

“Oh, no, I’m too big.” You shake your head. “I’m not huge so I expected them to have my size in stock but I guess not. I had to order some online.”

He bites his lip. “Let me see.”

You smirk. “Are you just gonna look or do you want to give it a thorough examination?”

“I'm gonna suck your cock.” He says plainly and somehow also seductively.

“I’ll call an uber.”

Miguel pushes you against your front door and immediately starts kissing you. He was too impatient to wait any longer. He reaches for your crotch and starts groping you.

He pulls away from the kiss, a bit of his lipstick transferred to your lips. “I don't want you to treat me like a prince in bed. I want you to have control over me.”

“So you want to submit to me?”

He nods.

“Get on your knees.” You say as you unbuckle your belt and unzip your slacks. He immediately falls to his knees. You pull your boxers down, revealing your hard cock.

Miguel stares in awe. He opens up his mouth and tries to take all of you in his mouth.

“You’re so greedy, Miguel.” You chuckle, gripping his hair and pulling him away. He whines in dismay. “You want to suck my cock? Beg for it.”

“Ple- please! Please let me suck your cock, sir!”

“Good boy.” You let go of his hair. Miguel quickly swallows your length again, eagerly deep throating your fat cock and covering it in red lipstick stains. He definitely looks like he's enjoying himself, so much so that his underwear must be soaked in his slick. “I know you want to touch yourself, go ahead.”

Miguel quickly brings his hand underneath his dress and rubs his aching bottom growth through the lace fabric of his panties, moaning along your shaft.

“You look so beautiful like this.”

He whimpers. He loves to be praised. He looks into your eyes before speeding up, sucking you off even faster than before. He closes his eyes, getting into it. The feeling of your hot, thick shaft filling up his throat makes him so aroused. He could probably come just from sucking you off.

“Such a good slut for me…you really love my cock, don't you?”

If Miguel could purr, he would. You wrap your fingers in his hair and gently pull him away. He almost lets out a whine. “Can I fuck your face?”

“Oh God, please.” He nods.

You pull him forward, filling his mouth up with your cock, and start fucking his throat. He rolls his eyes back, lazily rutting his dick against his own hand. His eyes start to well up with tears of pleasure. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel, doing so well.” You lick your lips. Miguel moans, tears rolling down his cheeks. They mix with his eyeliner, causing black streaks to stain his face. He has no idea how sexy he looks right now.

“‘M gonna come–” You groan. “And you're gonna swallow it all, aren't you, baby?”

Miguel would nod if he could.

“Good.” You bring him all the way to the base of your cock and pump his mouth full of your load. He’s quick to swallow, happy to consume it all. You pull away and admire his wrecked face. “You’re so pretty..” You sigh lovingly. “Do you want to stay over?” You ask, pulling up your pants.

“Yeah…Just have to wake up early to pick up Gabi at 8.”

“No problem. You want a ride?” You ask. He nods softly. You help him onto his feet and take him to your bathroom.

“Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” You hold onto the straps of his dress, waiting for his permission to strip him.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” He asks, frowning.

You chuckle at his drunken self. “Remember what I said? I'm sorry, baby, we can't.”

He pouts. “You said you wanted to give me a baby didn't you? Just breed me, already..”

“Oh sweetheart…” You take a piece of paper and get it wet then wipe off his makeup. “Let’s get married first, okay?”

He growls. He looks adorable. You pick him up and sit him down on the sink. You push his dress up. His lingerie is soaked. “At the very least, I’ll make you come, baby.” You pull his panties off.

“Nn- no…” He pulls on your tie. “Fuck me. And then- and then we'll elope-”

You laugh. “Didn't you say that I’m the one who's in charge? You're not being a very good boy..” You tsk.

“Please, Daddy.”

You sigh, swayed by his cuteness. “You win.” You slip two fingers inside him one by one. “You didn't make it a fair fight.” You slowly fuck him with your digits.

“Mm..” He bites his lip, enjoying the way your thick fingers feel inside of him. But he’d enjoy your cock way more. “Put it in, please~”

“Say it properly.”

“Please put your cock inside my pussy, Daddy.” He smiles cutely.

“Good boy.” You pull your fingers out and free your already hard cock. You slowly ease your length inside him, eyes trained on his face as you stretch out his cunt.

Miguel hisses in pain. You're big and it doesn't help that he hasn't had sex in over a decade. “Don't stop-” He moans. “‘S good- good pain-”

You lean into his neck and press soft kisses against it. You have to mentally restrain yourself from biting and marking him. “You’re doing good, baby, taking me so well.” You pull down the strap of his dress, freeing his breast and allowing you to grope it. He whimpers, rolling his head back as you reach deep inside of him. His eyes widen, a gasp leaving his lips as your cock brushes against his g-spot and sends a wave of pleasure up his body. He bites his lip as your cock moves in further and continues pleasing that area. “I’m all the way in, honey.” You go in to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your neck and joins in your passion, tongue dancing with yours.

He pulls away and looks at you with half lidded seductive eyes. “Fuck me.” He pauses. “Please.” He remembers his manners.

“That’s right, baby. You ask, not demand.” You smirk. You hold his waist and fuck him at a gentle pace. “God, you feel so good, baby…Fuck..”

For the first time tonight, despite the fact that it should've occurred earlier, Miguel feels embarrassed. But in a good way. He loves how pleased you look with his pussy.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “‘S good, so good, Daddy.” He moans. You're so big that even with the slow pace you're fucking him at it feels amazing.

“Can I go faster?”

“Yes- please~”

You pick up the pace. “You’re gorgeous, Miguel.” You kiss his cheek. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He moans even louder. “Thank you- thank you, Daddy-” He gasps. “Gonna- gonna come– can I come?”

You groan in pleasure. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel, of course you can.” You stroke his t-dick, instantly dragging out his orgasm. He squirts on your cock, shaking heavily. You slow down before stopping. You’d definitely come if you kept going. Miguel moves his hips and before you can process what he's doing, you come. “Miguel..” You look at him.

He turns away from you. “‘M sorry..”

“We’re both drunk so I’ll forgive you just this once. Plus I’m more worried about you…I should buy you the morning after pill.” You pull out and pause, enamored by the way his pulsing cunt looks with your cum dripping out of it. You help him off the sink and onto his feet.

“Alright, let's clean up, hm?”

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #miguel x reader #sub miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #bottom miguel o'hara #ftm character #tw daddy kink

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enchantedbarnes · 1 year

Text

Uncle Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself.

Word Count: 626

A/N: I had no intention to write anything on this account but here we are. Excuse the mess.

A young boy - 8 years old, dark hair and eyes full of mischief - walks up to the microphone.

"Hi, I have a question for Bucky..." He asks shyly.

The moderator nods, "What's your question for him, little man?"

The boy looks over at the seats nearby behind him and smirks, turning back to the stage with some more confidence this time.

"Will you marry my Aunt?"

The crowd let's out collective gasps, giggles, and awws. There's some cheering and a loud "OW OWWWW."

You inhale quickly and choke on your own air supply, trying to compose yourself. "BENJAMIN!!!"

You're horrified and shrink down in your seat while pulling your hood up over your head for added cover.

While you contemplate the fastest way to snatch the little traitor and get out of there as swiftly as possible you hear Sam's loud laugh echo through the room.

"I assume that was your Aunt and you're Benjamin?" Bucky asks while smirking.

Tiny traitor nods while grinning ear to ear. "I'm Benji, Auntie's name is Y/n and she thinks you're sooo handsome," he exaggerates with an eye roll, "and she's super fun and pretty and you'd be the coolest unc--"

Exit plan secured you jump out of your seat and rush over to cover his mouth and pull him back from the mic. Your hood still up and head ducked down.

"You said you were asking about the mechanics of his arm, you tiny little punk," you mutter at him but the microphone still picks up what you said.

While you have him secured in a headlock you quickly speak into the mic, avoiding all eye contact. "I apologize, I've never met this child before... I'm going to return him to the proper authorities immediately."

Picking your nephew up as quickly as you can, you toss him over your shoulder. His fit of giggles exploding while he tries yelling out again, "But he hasn't answered yet!"

"He's free later tonight, Aunt Y/n!" Sam shouts while you retreat to the back of the conference room towards the exit. "Your future family seems nice," he jokes while nudging Bucky's arm.

Benji tries to shout back across the room, "SHE IS FREE TOO!! EVERY NIGHT!!"

You shove the exit door open, "You're so dead. On my pick up days for school I will be blasting every embarrassing song I can find with the windows down. I'm going to start saving now and I will be buying every ad space available in your future yearbooks and I will be plastering them with your baby photos. And not the cute ones." Like this kid ever took a photo that wasn't cute.

***

The two of you walk around a food truck area set up outside the conference space. Benji is happily eating a pretzel you only bought so your sister wouldn't kill you for neglecting her child. You grab a seat at a small table to people-watch while he finishes up his undeserved treat.

You let your hood down, setting your vibrant and wild hair free. The color is easy to pick out in a crowd.

Benji is explaining in great detail the plot to a video game he has been playing with his friends and how one level keeps tripping them up.

The chair next to you slides back, "Is this seat open?" A deep voice asks.

Benji grins, "Yes!"

You already know who it is, but you're still startled when you look over and see none other than Bucky Barnes sitting with you and the small trouble matchmaker.

"So... is the potential cool Uncle position still available?" He smirks, hand on his chin looking over at both of you.

This little punk might be getting free pretzels and ice cream for life.

Alright folks! By popular demand, here is part 2!

Uncle Buck Returns

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #uncle buck fic

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incorrectbatfam · 3 months

Note

It's movie night but they can't use the home cinema, what do they do?

[week 1]

Bruce: Thanks for letting us use your place for movie night while we fix that leak at home.

Dick: No problem. Besides, I have plenty of snacks and the director's cut of Dumbo.

Everyone: *gathers around*

Dick: *puts on the movie*

~ 10 minutes in ~

*beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*

Tim: My crime alert's going off.

Harper: Mine too.

Duke: Must be big.

Bruce: Suit up and rendezvous in three.

Dick: *sighs and pauses the movie*

Dick: Can't get one night in this damn city.

———————

[week 2]

Tim: Steph, why are we at a karaoke lounge?

Steph: I know the owner's cousin's hairdresser's dog walker's sister's girlfriend and I convinced them to let us use the party room. Don't worry, it's just like a TV screen.

Steph: *puts on Pitch Perfect*

Steph: Ooh, I love this part.

Steph: *grabs a mic and starts singing*

Everyone:

Damian: *stuffs napkins in his ears*

———————

[week 3]

Jason: Since we decided on Pride and Prejudice, I thought I could play it at my safehouse.

Dick: Sweet, thanks!

Jason: *unlocks the door*

Dick: *tries to step in*

Jason: *stops him*

Jason: I said I could play it. I never said you could come in. I don't want your you-ness all over my new stuff.

Bruce: Jason, be reasonable.

Harper: Yeah, you got this junk off the side of the road.

Jason: My junk, my rules.

Tim: Then what are we supposed to do?

Jason: Fire escape's around the back. You'll get a decent glance.

~ 20 minutes later ~

Dick: *leans his head in to hear better*

Jason: My air, my rules.

Jason: *closes the window*

———————

[week 4]

Bruce: Cass, it's your turn. Got the movie?

Cass: *nods and plays Rambo on her computer*

Barbara: Uh, why isn't there any sound?

Cass: Volume button broke. Just read lips.

Jason: Kinda hard to do that with the brightness at zero. Did that stop working too?

Duke: Looks fine to me.

Jason: Shut up, Flashlight.

———————

[week 5]

Tim: I brought my entire Star Wars collection.

Bruce, dodging a space laser: Not the time.

Tim: Okay.

Bruce: *punches an alien robot*

Tim: How about now?

———————

[week 6]

Barbara: Sorry I got a cold, but at least we can still have movie night on Zoom. I torrented a copy of The Matrix.

Barbara: *shares her screen*

*movie plays*

Barbara: *leaves herself unmuted*

Barbara: *starts crinkling Sun Chips*

———————

[week 7]

Everyone: *crowd around Damian's phone watching My Neighbor Totoro*

Bette: Why is your phone so small?

Damian: I have tiny hands.

———————

[week 8]

Harper: Because we're watching Cars this week, I thought I could put together an all-immersive experience.

Bruce: BY LOCKING US IN A RUNAWAY SEMI-TRUCK?!?

———————

[week 9]

Duke: I called this company and since we're heroes, they're letting us use their electronic billboard for this week's movie at a huge discount. Kill Bill should be coming on right about...

*movie starts playing*

Jason: Not bad, Narrows.

*billboard switches to an ad*

———————

[week 10]

Carrie: Since Steamboat Willie is now public domain, I thought we could do something different tonight.

Carrie: *pulls out a flipbook*

———————

[week 11]

Everyone: *watching Love, Simon in a dark living room*

*lights flick on*

Apollo and Midnighter: *standing there in date night outfits*

Steph: Um, Cullen, who are these guys?

Cullen: *laughs nervously*

Cullen: Everyone, meet Apollo and Midnighter. They're kinda-sorta my gay uncles and we're kinda-sorta in their apartment and I kinda-sorta didn't expect them to come back early.

Midnighter: Remind me why we gave you a spare key?

———————

[week 12]

Kate: *sets up a projector and plays Glass Onion*

Bruce: Kate, this is a crime scene.

Kate: The fun part's already done, let Gordon do cleanup this time.

———————

[week 13]

Alfred: Back in my day, we did not rely on scrupulous use of technology. Which is why I propose watching a classic Sherlock Holmes tale on a classic instrument.

Alfred: *pulls out a zoetrope*

Steph: Anyone know what that is?

Dick: Not a clue.

———————

[week 14]

Luke: Nothing like a good ol' drive-in movie. Great idea, Helena.

Helena: I know, and the Godfather is perfect for this.

*Batmobile crashes through the screen*

Steph: Sorry we're late.

Duke: I'm still figuring out the PRINDL.

———————

[week 15]

*TV playing the Aristocats*

Bruce, trying to flirt: I like what you've done with the curtains.

Selina: Thanks, but it was Snowball's after-dinner surprise.

*TV blinks off*

Tim: Hey, what gives?

Selina: *takes a chewed-up cord out of a cat's mouth*

Selina, sighing: This is why I married rich.

———————

[week 16]

Luke: May I present the ultimate Snakes On A Plane drone show!

*phone rings*

Luke: Hello? ... Yes, this is he. ... Mhm. ... Yep. ... Okay.

Luke: Never mind, the FAA says I can't.

———————

[week 17]

Everyone: *watching Legally Blonde at Bette's place*

*dogs barking*

*sirens*

*loud music*

*car honk*

*neighbors shouting*

Bette: Sorry, we have thin walls.

Bruce, shrugging: Eh, still not as bad as HOA.

———————

[week 18]

Damian: Where is movie night this time, Father?

Barbara: My money's on another crime scene.

Bruce: Actually, I rented out the theater just for us and they're playing a special edition of The Mark of Zorro. Everyone got their snacks?

Duke: Popcorn, check.

Cass: Licorice, check.

Steph: M&Ms are obviously the right answer by the way.

Dick: I got a slushee.

Jason: I got the slushee machine.

Bruce: Alright then, take your seats. The movie's about to begin.

*movie plays*

*Rogues break in, make a mess, and leave*

Bruce:

Bruce: I miss my parents.

513 notes · View notes

azsazz · 4 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 23)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,470

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

“So…” Feyre trails off and your gaze slides to hers in the mirror from where you’re brushing on blush. Your first date with Azriel is tonight and you haven't been able to focus on anything all day. “You and Azriel?”

“Yeah,” you respond softly, trying to fight the smile that’s tugging at your lips. She already knows the news since she’d come back home this morning with Rhys in tow, trying to get you to come out for breakfast with them. When they saw Azriel padding out of your room shirtless, her jaw almost hit the floor. She was sputtering like a child and her boyfriend helped her get her bearings, violet eyes glittering as he grinned at Azriel. You had shrugged at each other as Rhysand guided Feyre back out the door with a cheerful goodbye. “Azriel and I.” Her brown brows are still furrowed and you don’t like that look, swiveling around in the mirror to face her. “Is it that crazy of a concept? I feel like this kind of thing happens all of the time.”

“In movies,” Cassian pipes up, exclaiming. He’s sitting on your bed next to your best friend, having invited himself over an hour ago.

You eye him. “What are you doing here again, Cass? Shouldn’t you be hyping Az up or something?”

“Nah, he has Rhys for that,” he winks over at Feyre who only raises her eyebrows in response. “I’m here because I’m seeing you off tonight.”

“You’re not my dad,” you scoff, fishing in your makeup bag for your mascara.

“But I’d let you call me that anytime, (Y/N),” he jokes and you shake your head fondly at him.

“I’m sure Azriel is going to love to hear that you’ve been flirting again.”

Cassian hugs one of your pillows to his chest, flipping through a book that you left on the table beside your bed. You wonder if he’ll find the page Azriel bookmarked for you when he’d been flipping through it, saying he’d slipped in a cheeky note for you to find along with the naughty passage. “He knows what I’m about. And if he feels threatened, that’s on him. I can just remind him of all of the times he used to—” The ringing of his phone cuts off his sentence and he slides it from his pocket, checking the caller before answering, murmuring a quiet hello down the line.

He frowns and you cock your head, watching intently. It’s not a face you think you’ve ever seen Cassian do seriously, and the way that his body tenses, you wonder who could be on the other line.

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” he says finally, hanging up the phone and springing up from your bed. He tosses the pillow back to the head of the bed and strides towards the door, a concerning pull to his eyebrows that has Feyre calling out to him as he makes for the door.

“Everything okay, Cassian?”

“I, uh—yeah, everything’s fine. I have to go,” he says but his mind is already in another place. “See you later.”

You and Feyre share a look in the mirror.

“So much for seeing me off.”

She grins at you, sliding off of your bed to join you in front of the mirror. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to do that.”

“Thanks,” you laugh, capping the mascara and putting it away. Leaning back a little, you admire your makeup in the mirror. “So, how are you and Rhys doing?”

You feel like you haven’t spent much time with Feyre lately, with her busy with her boyfriend and you busy with yours. Your boyfriend, the words have you giddy. You and Azriel are officially a couple now and everything feels right. There are no more late nights spent trying to get him to shut his music off or glaring at him when his eyes wander your way. Now, your nights are spent talking and kissing and touching. Lots and lots of touching.

Your heart stutters happily in your chest.

Feyre sighs dreamily. “He’s so great. I’m really glad we decided to move here this year, (Y/N).”

“Me too,” you grin stupidly at her and the both of you break out in giggles. “Fey, will you help me pick out some jewelry?”

Azriel told you to dress casually, something with jeans because somehow he convinced you to get back on that death-trap he holds so dear to his heart. It’s a sunny afternoon out, no clouds in sight, and it eases you slightly that you won’t have to ride it in the rain again, no matter how much you enjoyed being pressed up against him.

Now that you’re Azriel’s girlfriend, you’re free to press up against him whenever you want.

Naked, too.

“Here,” she says, hooking a necklace around your neck. She clasps it for you and you can’t help but stare at the blue gem that sits at the base of your neck, glittering in the light. It looks good, you think.

“Is it weird to be nervous?” you ask, playing with the pendent. “We’ve already had sex but I’m still feel all jittery.”

“Being nervous is completely normal,” Feyre answers, patting you on the shoulder. “You have to promise to tell me all about it when you get home.”

“I will,” you shoo her playfully, “I promise.”

You and Feyre chat lightly as you wait and it helps ease your nerves a little. She tells you about how excited she is about Halloween and asks if you think the both of you could convince the three boys next door to do a group costume with you. Cassian’s already been bragging about the insane pre-game party he throws every year before a night out at the bars, and you know you can easily get him on board.

A knock at the door sends your nerves skyrocketing again. You smooth down your shirt as Feyre rounds the corner to open the door, crossing her arms over her chest like a stern mother meeting her daughter's boyfriend for the first time.

She squeals when the door swings open to Rhysand on the other side. He laughs, sweeping her into his arms and guiding her backwards in his hug.

Your breath leaves your body at the sight of Azriel. He looks effortlessly handsome, his hair fingered through with a little gel even though he knows it’s going to be messed up from his helmet. His golden eyes gleam, crinkling at the corners with a smile when he catches your gaze.

He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt but wears his leather jacket over it, the same one he had wrapped around your shoulders that night you spent in the rain. It’s pulled tight across his shoulders but he doesn’t seem to mind because the worn leather is comfortable.

Of course, he has his dark jeans on, and you catch his riding gloves peeking out of his pocket.

You move to him like a moth to a flame, eagerly accepting the kiss he bends down to give you.

“You look amazing,” he breathes against your lips, never able to part from you. Never wanting to part from you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome,” you compliment, holding him close by the flaps of his jacket.

“Ready to go?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, turning to say goodbye to Feyre and Rhys, who has his arms wrapped around her as they watch the two of you, grinning like fools.

“Where’s Cassian?” Rhysand asks, looking around the room. “I figured he’d be all up in Azriel’s business right now, playing the part.”

Feyre shrugs, answering. “We don’t know. He got a phone call and left right after.” Azriel and Rhys share a look that you can’t make out before Feyre’s continuing, sternly, “Don’t keep her out too late.” She points a finger at Azriel. He looks like he’s trying his best to stop himself from rolling his eyes and you stifle your laugh in the crook of your arm.

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, “See ya, Rhysie. Don’t have sex too loud tonight. Or on the couch.”

Rhysand only smirks in response. “Why? Is it your turn?”

Feyre smacks his chest and you drag Azriel out of the apartment before she can go at her boyfriend for that joke. You’ve all heard worse before from Cassian, so the quip rolls off of your shoulders easily…aaaand now you’re thinking about fucking Azriel on the couch.

“If we fuck on any couch, it’s going to be yours,” you comment as you step onto the elevator with him. Their couch is both bigger and comfier. You wouldn’t let Azriel suffer on your cheap, navy couch that you and Feyre got for a bargain.

“Fantasizing about fucking me on my couch, princess?” Azriel hums, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. The elevator feels almost stifling with the heat between you two, his eyes glittering with interest. “We can definitely make that fantasy come true. Do you have any others I should know about?”

“No,” you answer all too quickly, and you try not to think too hard about the intrigue that flares in his gold eyes. “How about you?” you aim the question back at Azriel as the elevator comes to a stop on the first floor, doors creaking open slowly.

You can feel his gaze on your face as he studies you, and he doesn’t answer until you’ve left the building, Azriel holding the door open for you. “No,” he answers, but you know it’s a lie.

It sparks interest in you, and when you cut him a glance from the corner of your eye, he’s smirking.

Two can play at this game, apparently.

Azriel shrugs out of his jacket and you’re taken back to the night when he’d given you a ride home in the storm as he helps you into it, admiring you in the loved leather before he tugs you closer. The smell of him is intoxicating to your senses and you don’t even care that the soon to be setting sun is warmer than usual because being encompassed in his jacket makes your heart flutter.

You’re pressed all up against his front and Azriel can’t help himself but to grin along with you, dipping his head down for one more kiss. He chuckles as your lips chase his, pressing up into him on your tiptoes to follow. Azriel plucks one of the helmets strapped to the back of his motorcycle and helps you into it with the promises of more kisses to follow throughout the night.

You have to squeeze your thighs together when he shoves his own helmet over that dark hair of his. He looks hot as fuck standing there with his tattoos on display, peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt and creeping up his neck. Said t-shirt clings tightly to his chest as if he’s worn it because he knows what it does to you, and you follow the lines down his long body to his tight waist.

“Earth to princess,” Azriel calls, rapping on your helmet with his knuckles. You startle from your ogling, glaring up at him. The crinkles around his eyes and the shaking of his shoulders are clear signs of his amusement, and you can’t resist that blush that stains your cheeks. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you answer, but it’s a bit muffled from the helmet. Azriel helps you on his bike and when you’re settled behind him, he takes your hands and pulls them tight around his waist.

“Hold on tight,” Azriel reminds you and your heart picks up its pace at both the proximity of your boyfriend and the fact that you’ve somehow allowed him to talk you into getting on the damned thing again. You tighten your thighs around his waist, wiggling even closer to him to make sure you’ve got a firm hold, and he groans like a man shot. “You keep grinding up against me like that, princess, and we’re going to go right back upstairs to that couch.”

That doesn’t sound so bad, you think. You don’t have to endure a nerve-wracking ride on the motorcycle where all you’ll be able to think about is how much your body might slide if you fall and you’d get to see Azriel’s pretty dick.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Azriel takes off without another warning. You squeak softly, squeezing your eyes shut tight as he pulls away from the building.

You’re pretty sure he can feel the pounding of your heart against his back because at the first stop sign his hands come down to trace the length of your thighs, reassuring you with his touch. It helps settle you some, enough to peek your eyes open and watch the houses pass you by.

At some point in the ride, you actually find yourself enjoying it, muscles relaxing but your body still pressed in tightly to Azriel. You’re enjoying the feeling of the wind on your skin, pulling at your clothes and the feeling of Azriel’s warmth seeping through your front. You can understand how he feels so at ease like this, like a bat swooping through the night sky.

You arrive a few towns over where Azriel parks against a curb. It’s an artsy looking town, murals covering the sides of brick buildings, colorful storefronts calling to you left and right. The streets are bright from the streetlights and filled with laughter and a positive aura that stirs excitement in you, even more so when Azriel takes your hand.

“You okay?” He asks, a touch of concern flushing through those golden eyes. “The ride wasn’t too rough, was it?”

You shake your head, smirking up at him. “I’ve had rougher.”

He snorts, tugging you into him for a hug because your body pressed all hot up against his wasn’t enough. Azriel walks you down a block and down a pair of stairs. The walls are filled with graffiti and you look around in wonder while Azriel checks in with the young looking boy behind the counter.

He finds you, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed as you try and discern the oddly shaped letters painted on the wall before you. You have no idea what the word is supposed to say, it’s bright red coloring stark against the deep teal wall it’s painted on.

“Here you go.” Azriel hands you coveralls and you scrunch your face in confusion. He has his own pair, a deep navy, and in his free hand he holds two respirators.

“What’s all this for?” you ask, examining the beige jumpsuit he’s handed you. It’s clean and fresh, so you won’t complain.

“We’re spray painting,” Azriel answers almost sheepishly. At his tentative tone you look up, and you nearly grin. His cheeks are filled with warmth and you think this is the closest you’ve ever seen him to bashful.

“We are?” you ask, eager all of a sudden. You know it’s something Azriel said that he, Rhysand, and Cassian have fooled around with, and you’ve always enjoyed seeing the many tags and artwork created on buildings and trains. You even researched Bansky for one of your high school papers, finding his reasoning behind his works vastly intriguing, but you’ve never tried the medium yourself. “This is going to be fun!”

Azriel’s shoulders droop in relief. He hadn’t been one hundred percent confident in this choice for a date, but he thought dinner at a restaurant wouldn’t be enough to impress you and that going to see a movie was much too cliche.

He smiles softly, reveling in the excitement in your eyes. “I think so too.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Where do you get your inspiration from?” you ask Azriel, voice sounding muffled through the mask as you watch him paint a long, black line down the wall. The fan’s in the room are loud so you have to shout. You’d seemed nervous when you stepped into the room, cans of spray paint littered around the floor, the walls filled with intimidating artwork that you hardly had the heart to paint over, but now you’re most definitely enjoying yourself.

Azriel had been a reassurance from the get-go, explaining that everyone who booked time here comes in knowing that whatever they paint is going to be gone when the next guests arrive, so there’s no pressure to put on yourself, only to have fun.

And it is fun, getting a feeling for the can in your hand, how hard to press, how far to hold the can from the wall. Azriel showed you some techniques, guiding your hands in different motions to create perfect circles, to get the paint drips you were eyeing from someone else’s work. The only complaint you have about this date is that the masks make it difficult to kiss Azriel, who you’ve wanted to jump since he’d pressed his body flush against yours when showing you how to paint funky letters, his other hand a solid weight on your hip.

You’ve been in awe of him all night, sneaking looks over your shoulder at what he was painting; a skeleton stallion with a skeleton riding it, sword raised as if leading an army of the dead into war. He’s skilled in many mediums and your heart aches as you wonder how it’s possible that he hasn’t been able to receive an apprenticeship yet.

Something stings in your chest. The way that Azriel draws, paints, tattoos…there’s a confidence there that you’re envious of. Every spray he makes seems so sure, so well laid it’s like he can see the end result as he’s working. You yearn to feel like that.

“What do you mean?” he asks, eyes flicking to yours for a moment before returning to his work, letting you know that you have his full attention. You’re in the midst of painting the skeleton horse's eyes a bright neon green, whispers of black shadows swimming from its nostrils.

You sigh, abandoning your can of paint and wiping the remnants of the pigment on your coveralls. “All this time I’ve known that I want to be in art, that I want to do something with it, but everytime I make something, it never feels good enough. Like I’m not as proud of it as I should be. I don’t have a style like you or Feyre do, and, if I do, I haven’t noticed it yet.”

Azriel fully stops what he’s doing and turns to you. His hand comes up to caress your jaw, tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes are soft with concern and there’s a wrinkle between his brow that makes you want to reach up and smooth it out, suddenly embarrassed that you’ve brought this up during your perfectly good date.

“Is that how you feel?” he asks, and you shrug shyly. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all, but it’s been something that eats at you, day by day. “It sounds like you’re missing a muse, princess.”

You frown. “A what?”

“A muse,” Azriel repeats simply. “Something that inspires you.”

Something that inspires you. You toss the words around in your head, thinking. Surely, you find things inspiring. You wrack your brain trying to come up with something, something that keeps you captivated, gives you the urge to put your pencils to your paper and create something beautiful…but there’s nothing.

“So, you’re saying you inspire yourself?” you tease, thinking back to his exhibition. You tease, because if you don’t laugh, you might cry. You can see the glint of amusement in his eyes, and you continue your soft jab. “How very narcissistic of you, Az.”

Azriel rolls his eyes and before you can joke further, he’s lifting his can of spray paint and marking you with a big heart across the entire front of your coveralls. Your mouth drops open in shock but his smirk makes the feeling roll right between your thighs.

“I believe that muses have the ability to change,” he answers your earlier question. He’s staring down at you intently, and maybe he’s waiting for you to pick up a can and retaliate. Or maybe he’s thinking exactly what you’re thinking: trying to find someplace to tear each other's clothes off.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask defiantly. You want to cross your arms over your chest but you don’t want to ruin his work. It feels like you’ve been branded by him, claimed by his artistic talent, and something flares within you at the very idea. “What’s your muse now?”

Azriel doesn’t answer but he doesn’t need to. The way he seems to be devouring you with his eyes tells you all you need to know about who his current muse is.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

581 notes · View notes

deantfwinchester · 4 months

Text

Late Nights

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship

Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.

Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?

——————

It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.

You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.

When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.

On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.

This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.

You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:

Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:

Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?

Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.

You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.

You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.

Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)

Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️

And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.

He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.

————

A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.

It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.

Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:

“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.

“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.

You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.

You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.

You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:

“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.

“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.

“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.

“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.

“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.

He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.

You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”

He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.

“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.

He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”

You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.

You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.

——————

He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.

You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.

“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.

The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.

“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.

“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.

He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.

“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.

“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.

“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.

“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.

You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.

You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.

#call the fucking dentist bby #ur gonna get cavities fr #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo

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solarmorrigan · 5 months

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Here’s the thing: Jeff isn’t actually a meddler by nature.

He’s perfectly content to let people be. He keeps himself to himself and is happy when others do the same. It’s not that he’s never curious, it’s just that he asks personal questions sparingly. And he’s probably going to ask them even more sparingly in the future, because the last time he’d asked one, he’d accidentally broken up one of his best friend’s relationships.

In fairness to Jeff, that relationship was going to blow up sooner rather than later (that is, in fact, exactly what Eddie had said to him when they’d talked a few days after the incident in question; Eddie had even said that he thinks he’d needed the wakeup call, though he’d have preferred it hadn’t happened the way it did – the way that hurt Steve so much. All the same, he seems determined to make things right, so– maybe not the worst thing in the world?), but still, Jeff feels a little… guilty isn’t quite the word, but he doesn’t have a better name for the squirm of emotion in his gut when he catches sight of Steve at Melvald’s one evening.

He hasn’t seen Steve in over a week, now – not since he’d abruptly left Eddie’s place after being unceremoniously informed that his boyfriend (Jeff’s pretty sure that’s the train Steve had been on) is apparently not actually his boyfriend.

And it isn’t as though he or Gareth or Oliver had really hung out with Steve sans Eddie before, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be willing; Jeff’s experience with Steve Harrington in high school had been peripheral at best, and though he hadn’t had the best impression of him at first, he’d actually come to enjoy his company since he started hanging around Eddie after that disaster of a spring break. He doesn’t know much about D&D (though Jeff suspects he knows a lot more than he lets on), and he’s not particularly into fantasy or sci-fi, but he does have a bizarrely encyclopedic knowledge of sports, and had been excited to learn that Jeff is into baseball and hockey.

He's just as bitchy as Jeff had always thought he was, but he’s also unexpectedly kind, and funny in a way that had caught all of them off guard, and largely seems like a solid sort of guy.

And Jeff just feels kind of shitty that the last time they hung out had ended the way it had, that’s all.

That is his main excuse for why he approaches Steve in the cereal aisle at Melvald’s at 8 p.m. on a Friday.

He clears his throat. “Hey.”

Steve turns, brows furrowed as he looks to see who’s trying to get his attention, clearly not expecting any kind of social encounter, but his expression clears a bit when he sees Jeff. “Oh. Uh– Hey,” he says. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I don’t seem like the type to eat breakfast cereal?” Jeff teases, and a little bit of the tension in Steve’s shoulders seems to ease away.

“More like I thought I was the only person lame enough to be grocery shopping on a Friday night,” he counters with a smirk.

“You might be,” Jeff says, though he keeps his voice warm. “I just stopped in to pick up some snacks for the weekend after– uh,” Jeff stops short; shit, why did he bring that up?

Steve stares at him for a moment, calculating, and Jeff sees the moment he makes the connection.

“Hellfire tonight, right?” Steve asks, his tone almost unnervingly neutral as he looks back towards the shelves.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, still watching Steve carefully. “Just ended about half an hour ago.”

Steve gives a slow nod. “How was it?”

And – well, there are two options from here. Jeff could take Steve’s polite interest at face value, tell him it was a good session, and let them both awkwardly get on with their nights, or… He could be truthful, and maybe see how Steve’s really doing (which would also be awkward, so it’s not like Jeff really has much to lose).

“To be honest? Not great.” Jeff shrugs. “Eddie hasn’t been in good form lately.”

He can see the curve of a sad sort of smile cross Steve’s face, just briefly.

“That sucks, man. Hope he, uh… gets his head back in the game soon, I guess?” Steve offers.

Whether he does or not will probably be entirely dependent on how his plans to fix things with Steve play out; Eddie hadn’t told Jeff much (apparently, he’s done accidentally flying his dirty laundry for the time being), but he had said that Steve had asked for a little time, and that they would be talking again soon.

“I think he’s working on it,” Jeff says, rather than digging into that particular can of worms. “And, uh… How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Steve says a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Jeff pauses for a minute, pursing his lips and staring up at the ceiling. Is he really doing this? On a Friday night at fucking Melvald’s?

“It just sucks,” he finally says, “that…”

“That you all had to see that I’m actually an oversensitive loser when you realized I’d basically made up an entire relationship and then ran out over it like an idiot?” Steve suggests, his tone so false and light that it sets Jeff on edge.

“That Eddie couldn’t see that he had something really good in front of him. That he completely fumbled it,” Jeff corrects him.

It’s only after he’s spoken that he remembers they’re in a public place, and that talking to one guy about his relationship with another guy isn’t particularly safe. He glances around, hoping it’s not too little, too late, and is relieved to find that the store is just as empty as it had been when he’d first stepped in. When he looks back to Steve, he finds him staring, brows furrowed like he’s trying to puzzle something out.

“Isn’t Eddie one of your best friends?” Steve asks at last.

Jeff shrugs. “Makes me qualified to point out when he’s been an idiot.”

Steve says nothing, just pins Jeff with that confused stare for a moment longer before turning back to the shelf, as if he might finally decide on what cereal he wants.

“If it helps at all,” Jeff says, more quietly this time, “the reason we were even talking about it is because I asked Eddie how it was going – the two of you dating. We all thought you were. We were– well, probably not just as surprised as you, but pretty damn surprised when Eddie said you weren’t.”

“That… actually does. A little,” Steve answers softly, cutting a quick glance at Jeff. “Thanks.”

Jeff shrugs. “It’s just– Eddie’s not– he’s not a bad guy. He gets caught up in things, and he forgets to pay attention, but he wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

“I know,” Steve says, not quite sharp, but not quite gentle, either.

“Sorry, I’m not… trying to talk him up. I swear I’m not here advocating for him, or whatever.” Jeff sighs. “You’re totally within your rights to tell him to fuck off—hell, you can tell me to fuck off—I just wanted to say that if he tells you he’s sorry, if he says he wants to fix it, he really does mean it.”

“Yeah. I know,” Steve says again, and this time he sounds gentle – a little soft and distant.

Jeff reaches up and clasps one hand over Steve’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing him. “Anyway, if we’re not going to be seeing you at any of the regular places, you should come over and catch a game sometime.”

It seems like a given that Steve won’t be sitting in on anymore Hellfire sessions for a while, or coming to see their gigs at The Hideout like he had been (he’s already missed one, and they had all pretended not to notice the way Eddie had completely ignored the side of the room with the table where Steve would usually sit and watch), but Jeff finds himself unwilling to let go of his friendship entirely.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, glancing over again.

“Sure.” Jeff shrugs. “Offer stands. Gareth and Oliver’d be happy to see you, too.”

“They’re not into sports,” Steve says.

“But they can be bribed with snacks,” Jeff answers, and Steve gives a huff of a laugh.

“Cool,” he says, the first real smile Jeff’s seen from him all night beginning to cross his face. “I’ll give you a call sometime.”

Jeff smirks at him. “Will you have your people call my people?” he teases, and Steve reaches out to give his shoulder a light shove.

“Fuck off, man,” he snickers.

“Only because I have other things to do,” Jeff says, heading back down the aisle the way he’d come. “Night, Harrington.”

“Night,” Steve calls back after him, sounding a bit lighter than when Jeff had found him.

Feeling a little lighter himself, Jeff snags an extra package of Ho Ho’s on the way to the register. He figures he’s earned it.

Part 6

Tag List (Now full, I'm sorry! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #steve harrington #jeff stranger things #steve & jeff #steve & corroded coffin #stranger things #sorry this bit's short but it's going to pick up soon!#solar wrote

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hysteria-things · 4 months

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SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic

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whore-ibly-hot · 1 year

Text

Yan!Cage-Fighter x Fem!Reader

'Paying bills ain't easy'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Toxic behavior, traditionally masculine roles, power dynamics, violence, murder, jealousy, subpar spanish, cursing, mentions of sex, description of unsafe neighborhoods.

(AN: I know I said I was working on the part two for the fae fic, and a fashion designer piece, but the idea for this guy hit me like a train. Apologies for any Spanish mistakes, I'm coming along in my learning!)

The sound of raucous cheering rings out throughout the crowd of the 'Dog Pit' Den, Harlem's most prolific underground fighting spot. Fighters from all over the city come here to try and earn a living wage. Backbreaking, degrading work, boxing, kicking, and spitting in the no-rules ring. A crack, a cheer, and the sound of a collapsing body, before the announcer yells that Matias Lopez has taken yet another challenger down. A sweaty, tanned man hops back and forth on his feet, arms raised in the air as he celebrates his victory.

"Ladies and gentleman, Matias 'The Mayhem' has taken down yet another challenger! You know what that means! Make some noise!" The announcer yells, and the room shakes with boos and cheers, the stomping of feet making the ground tremble. "Matias Lopez has won the 500 dollar Rookie Fighters Championship prize!" Another round of yells, and Matias spits on the ground. He makes his way out of the cage, kissing the rosary his mother always makes him wear, even when he's cracking skulls in an illegal cage-fighting circuit. To be fair, she doesn't know. He sighs, tearing his fist-wrappings off and running a hand through his sweaty locks. He changes out of his outfit, switching into a casual gray hoodie, a pair of sweats, and some slides. After reapplying deodorant, he hears someone outside. One of the guys who runs the 'Dog Pit' has come to give him his check.

"Yo, Matias, my man!" He greets, slapping a hand on Matias's toned shoulder. "Me and some of the 'execs' as we've taken to calling ourselves are gonna hit the club', you in?" Mattias, clicks his tongue, and shakes his head. "Nah man, not tonight. I gotta get home n' see my girl. I was supposed to be home earlier." He glances down at the floor. "Shit, alright man, here's your check. I'll see you later." Mattias nods as the man heads out, stuffing the check into his duffle bag, before sliding out the alley exit.

Matias and you have been dating for a little over a year now. Both of you met in a pretty rough part of town, he was working a day-job at a gas station, and you were a cafe worker. He'd come in occasionally, claiming that the gas station coffee just wasn't up to his standards. He scared you, at first. Mattias has a very tough exterior, tattoos and muscles, but an even tougher interior. He was kind of stoic when you first met, and you couldn't quite get a read on him. He wasn't outwardly flirty or affectionate, which is why it took six weeks of him stopping by the coffee shop for him to pull you aside and ask what he was doing wrong, and why you weren't picking up on his advances. You had explained, and shortly after that you began dating. It was only a month or so into dating when you had learned of his cage-fighting career, but he assured you that he was tough, and no guy was gonna hurt him. You both needed the money on the side, so you reluctantly agree. That's what leads up to where you are now, passed out on your couch, waiting for him to come home.

He heads towards your shared apartment as quickly as he can, taking the subway about 8 blocks east, before running up the fire escape to the flat's balcony. He knows you deadbolted the door any time past 8:00, and doesn't blame you. It's kind of a dangerous neighborhood, and he feels bad enough leaving his girl home alone as much as he does.

"Pobre mami, espero que no me haya esperado." (Poor mami, hope she didn't wait up for me.) He pulls up the window, making sure to slip in quietly, in case you had already gone to sleep. As he places one foot on the floor, the wood barely creaks beneath him, when he hears a soft groan coming from the couch.

"Matty?" You mumble, sitting up from the plush couch and rubbing your eyes, trying to make out his large silhouette. He sighs, tossing his bag to the side as he stretches "Hey, hermosa, did I wake you up?" He asks, looking at you with his usual hooded gaze. "I guess, I don't think I was asleep that long..." You run a hand through your hair. "How'd it go?" He smiles softly, chuckling. "You know me, baby, I don't lose." He sits on the arm of the couch. "Gotchu' five hundred dollars, gonna' get you something real pretty with it." You sigh, and shake your head. "You've got me plenty of gifts, what we should be doing is saving up for somewhere else to live." You explain. He shrugs. "Yeah, you right, you right. That's my bad." He puts his hands up in surrender. "Well, if you aren't gonna let me get you somethin' pretty, you outta lemme' take ya to bed." Before you can react, he scoops you up in his arms, causing you to squeak.

"Don't scare me like that, God!" You smack his chest, but your hand only bounces off his firm pecs. e chuckles. "Gonna' have to hit harder than that, mami." He flicks off the living room light as he carries you to your shared bed. He lays you down, gently this time as opposed to the times he throws you on the bed, usually to pin you down and tickle you, saying things like '¿Qué pasa, bonita? Solo empújame, no es tan difícil...' (What's wrong, Pretty? Just push me off, it's not that hard...). Sometimes though, his manhandling isn't that innocent. As you snuggle down into the bed, Matias strips off his hoodie, and you blush at the way the light coming in through the blinds hits his chest. He lets out a soft groan, as the plush mattress and soft bed sheets soothe his sore body. Matias bites his lips as his eyes trace over your sleepy form, and he rolls over onto his side, tucking an arm around your waist.

"Mmm, no Matias... m' too tired tonight." You whisper, your face scrunching up. Matias was never a very soft guy. Playful and devilish, sure, but soft? No. His hands were calloused from years of bruising skin and bloodying faces, working and scrounging every penny he can get to get a better life for himself. Deep down, he couldn't imagine placing these damaged, dangerous hands on something as soft and sweet as you. He could snap you in half if he desired, and the thought terrifies him.

"What, no baby... I'm not tryna' smash at-" He looks over at the clock. "Shit, 1:00 am already? Jesus Christo..." He turns back to you. "Just wanna hold you, mami." He presses his long torso up against the curve of your back, pressing his face into your curls and inhaling your scent. "You feeling okay?" You ask. He knows he doesn't. He knows he should have been home for you sooner, and it didn't help that he had to make a stop on the way back home.

He feels a sense of dread in his stomach. You won't ever know about the stop he made, you were asleep. Besides, he comes home late all the time. What you will learn about is your bloodied new co-worker being found with his skull smashed in, just a few blocks from the cafe. Due to the graphic scene he left behind, it's sure to be on the morning news. Matias hadn't expected your new friend to be working the late shift, but he was still on an adrenaline high from the fight, and god... he couldn't stand the idea of that bitch getting to spend more time with you than him. He wants to be home for you more, he does, but he can't. Still, that doesn't mean he's going to let any other guy fill that void. Hell no.

"I'm fine, Hermosa. Just sore from the fight, wanna' hold my baby." He whispers, placing a chapped kiss on the shell of your ear, making you flinch. "That tickles..." You giggle. He smiles, and squeezes you gently. "C'mon, stop being silly. Necesitas descansar, especialmente después de quedarte despierto para mí." (You need to sleep, especially after staying up for me.) He scolds. You roll over to face him, and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. "Love you, Matty." You sleepily coo, before drifting off in his arms. He freezes, his breath labored for a minute as he looks down at you. Even now, after dating for so long, he can't process the softness of you juxtaposed with the beatings he both takes and gives every other weeknight. It's a transition he sometimes struggles to handle. He feels a smile creep onto his face, and he curls your small form into him, practically cradling you against his broad chest. God, he'll take on an extra five challengers next time, all for you.

"Gonna get you a penthouse baby, real nice neighborhood too. Somewhere safe, somewhere that makes me feel better about leavin' you all alone..." He whispers, knowing you can't really hear him. "Better not have anyone but me over, no fucker's from work, aight'? I'll kick the shit out of any of em' just for you..."

#yandere #yandere fanfiction #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #x reader #yandere content #yandere oc #reader insert #yandere boy #yancore #tw.violence #tw.fighting #yandere boxer #yandere cage fighter #oc x reader #oc Matias #tw.jealousy

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angelisverba · 1 year

Text

achilles heel

in which y/n gets herself into another precarious situation and wants her dealer to help her, and harry can’t help but feel conflicted about how much he wants her

read part one here

word count: 14k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: bad trip! peer pressure, drug coercion, drugs, mentions of bullying, sexual content!

author’s note: there aren’t any facts to back up the use of any kind of sexual enhancers, so much of this experience is improvised and not actually something that would happen irl in terms of science. love you!

Two slow, torturously long weeks pass- one in which he was out of business entirely trying to stock his inventory up again- before he hears from her again. In the middle of the night, it’s beginning to become a pattern for them. He only hopes that this time, it’s not for an asshole group of people.

His bohemian dream of a room is upturned, messy, as he’s been a grump about not seeing her. There’s shirts strewn everywhere, his bed is a rumpled mess and he wishes that it were because he had sex in it instead of restlessly sleeping. He’s coming out of the shower with a white towel low on his hips. There are clouds of thick steam coming out from his open bathroom door and while a majority is from the hot water he hoped would soothe his tense body, there's a bit of thicker, headier smoke from the skinny spliff he hotboxed while in the tub.

And it hadn’t worked for shit. Because he was still cranky, still restless. His fingers were itching to do something, and if he hadn’t just smoked weed, he would be in his garage, throwing around weights like a madman to try and get himself tired. Sadly, he wasn’t even fucking horny, so jerking off wasn’t an option.

Sidestepping his sweatpants by the edge of his bed, Harry grips the thick of the fabric at his crotch and reaches for a pair of clean underwear from a drawer at his bedside table, furrows his eyebrows at the box of condoms stashed in there, and pull on white boxers. He throws the towel at the end of his bed and lays back with his arms splayed wide, sighing dramatically. He felt deeply sorry for himself.

Y/n was probably never going to talk to him again because the last few times they had seen each other, Harry was a complete dick to her, acting every bit like the asshole drug dealer that had a criminal reputation. God, the girl was probably scared of him. He fucked his all-

Ping!

This phone went off with a notification. The same tone he had assigned her, and Harry’s body lurched off the bed. His arms swept the expanse of his bed, ruffling his duvet in search of the device.

Ping!

It went off again, and the urgency in which he was searching increased. Where the fuck was his-

He found it when it thunked onto the floor, and with shaking hands, he unlocked it.

Y/n: Hi, Harry!

Are you available for delivery at the moment?

Of course he is. Always, for her. But he didn’t type that back, obviously. He had to be cool.

Harry: I am. What can I get you?

The gray dots appear instantly, and he gets another text shortly after.

Y/n: Do you have any brownies?

He had been to a frat party earlier in the day in which a group of senior guys had taken some pot brownies off his hands. Before confirming with her, he double-checks his inventory on the notes app folder he has just to keep track of stock.

Harry: I have half a dozen left tonight

Should he have added a smiley face? No, that would have been creepy right?....

Y/n: Perfect :D ! I’ll take five, please!

Harry: No problem. Can I have the address, please?

She sends it not even a minute later. All concerns regarding driving a vehicle while high unethically fly out of his mind because honestly, he wasn’t even high anymore. Not even feeling it. She was only twenty minutes away, ten if he didn’t pay attention to laws.

Harry: I’m On my way!

Y/n: See you soon!

Yeah, fuck the laws.

***

He makes it in 8 minutes.

And something about this house doesn’t feel right.

He didn’t realize it until the houses started looking nice and the parked cars on the side of the street started getting more expensive than the address she had provided him with was one on the wealthier side of town. He knew of a guy that lived here who everyone talked about because his method of acquiring money was sketchier than Harry’s, and well… that said a lot given that Harry sold drugs for a living.

The end of the driveway that he parks on is wide enough to be a two-way street. One of the lights flickered on by the motion sensor as Harry took his helmet out and shook his hair back. In his rush to get here, he hadn’t put on a shirt, and with his leather jacket left unzipped, his tattoos were on full display. The moonlight gleamed on the ridges of his abdomen, casting shadows across the markings on his skin. He was warm despite the chill in the air, and the cool drift of the night wind on his muscles was a welcome feeling.

Harry just didn’t realize how… devilish he looked. He appeared every bit the bad boy ready to sweep you off your feet in the summer, and the serious expression on his face added to the mystery. Wondering if this time she was able to hear his motorcycle from deep inside wherever she was in that mansion of the house, Harry kicked his stand down, hung his helmet on the handlebar, and took his phone out to let her know he was here.

Harry: I’m outside

Grey bubbles pop-up, squiggling like a little wave. And then…

Y/n: Be right there!

All of the breath in his lungs vacates his chest, and he gets warmer than he already was. Pacing the short lengths of his motorcycle, he wonders how he may get more nervous to see her every time he sees her. He never used to be this way, not even with a girl he wanted to talk up at a bar. There was a confidence within him, this shine that sprouted from knowing that he knew he was the shit, and he was going to use that to his advantage, to make a girl blush and stutter. Instead, she was the one to turn him inside out. He forgot all about basic manners around her. He forgot how to smile without questioning if his smile was wonky. He thought-

“Hi, Harry!”

He thought she looked so fucking sexy tonight.

Coming from the front door, y/n is a wispy, gauzy mirage. Her feet are wobbly, and there’s a glass tumbler in her hand with a toothpick-skewered olive. She’s smiling so brightly at him, and this unrestricted happiness at his appearance alarms him. Where is the timid girl who speaks to him with a voice barely above a whisper? She must be drunk he thinks.

An itchy feeling he can’t shake off overcomes him because the girl is wearing a lacy slip dress that is so sheer, he can see her pink undergarments underneath. A white cardigan slides off her shoulders and hangs on to her elbow like a satin bow slipping loosely from a gift. He can’t decide if he wants to tie her back up or unravel her.

She runs the last few steps to him, and either she miscalculates her stop, or trips on a pebble because suddenly, she’s in his arms and he’s holding her upright. And he’s also breathing heavily because a rush of blood has made its way down to his cock and he knows she can see it pressing through his jeans and against her belly if the way her eyes go round is any indication.

Her drink slips from her hand, and shatters at their feet. The loud scattering of glass makes her jump, and an apology is clumsily stumbling from her mouth while she tries to pull herself from his embrace. Harry, however, tightens his hold. His fingers squeeze at her waist, and through the lace of her dress, he can feel the overlapping fabric of her panties. Without saying anything, he lifts her and takes a few steps to the side before setting her down away from the hazard.

“What-” her brows furrow, and her head tilts to the side. She isn’t rushing out of his arms now.

Interrupting her, Harry explains, “y’were about to step on the glass.”

“Oh,” y/n is back to whispering as her eyes travel all over his face, “thank you.”

With her in his arms, Harry has forgotten how to act. His mind is blank as a sheet of paper, and his lungs are expanding and contracting but oxygen isn’t really reaching him because he smells something sweet combined with alcohol on her warm breath. He sees how y/n’s facial expressions resemble that of a guppy fish, and he realizes that maybe he should let her go but he can’t because… because her fingers are shifting around his arms and she’s kind of shifting her weight and writhing and Harry still has a fucking boner so this is all-

He steps back, observing her shiver, and clears his throat. “Of course. Are you…are you cold?”

“Cold?” she asks. Her voice is silvery like the incantation of a church bell and he wants to fall to his knees are revere her, to beg for forgiveness, for her to cleanse him of all his sins. The night air has turned him into some kind of animal, he decides. The moon has transformed him into the hungry, howling wolf who will only be silenced by knowing her in the most carnal way. Meeting under the blanket of darkness has decided their fate.

“You’re shivering,” he states, voices unwavering and factual. That confidence he was missing before has somehow found its way back. Like tectonic plates, the tension has shifted in his favor. Harry gathers the courage to fix the cardigan on her shoulders.

His hands graze the cool skin of her biceps, and he doesn’t miss the way she textures with evidence of her intimidation. The way her breath stops altogether and he mumbles under his breath, “Just fixing y’up, darling. Y’can breathe, m’not gonna bite,” and she drops her arms at her side to let him help her, and then…

He feels the thin, sharp glide of her fingernails at his sternum. How can a single touch be so erotic? His jeans are too tight over his bulge, and fighting a groan, he exhales deeply, looking up at her to find her eyes droopy, staring at his butterfly tattoo. Her mouth moves around the shape of pretty before her eyes flicker up at him. They both freeze. Prey and predator, caught before the deadly pounce.

But y/n breaks their eye contact.

Harry drags the fabric up so it sits properly on her shoulders, and slides his fingers down to the front, so he can begin with the first button. His fingers drag unnecessarily like syrup on the skin right above her slip, and her audible gulp along with her choked, thank you check him back into his manners. She might have toyed with him, albeit unknowingly, but he welcomed it. He doubted that she was 100% sure if she wanted that reciprocated, so he stopped. As much as it hurt him to do so, he stopped.

At the last button, he reluctantly steps back, “All done, don’t want to get sick now, do you?”

And he manages a smile. It’s small, with just a bit of a cocky gap between his lips to white teeth. His hands slip into his front pockets, pulling his jeans forward subtly to give his dick some breathing room. He feels branded where she touched him, that sliver of skin hot with burning desire. Visions of them together flash behind his eyes like bits of a dream he’s trying hard to remember.

“You’re right,” she mumbles, “thank you.” Y/n wraps her arm around herself and can't seem to make eye contact with him.

The rational side of him that’s drowning in his tunnel vision reminds him that he’s there to do something (deliver drugs), so he moves around to the compartment and pulls out the paper bag. This time, it’s decorated in a field of smiling, dancing daisies sprouting from the bottom of the bag. “Here are your brownies,” giving her the bag, he laments that he’s going to have to leave her soon.

“How much do I owe you?” Y/n blinks up at him like she’s just barely waking up. Like she’s trying hard to stay focused, just like him. But that would be silly, Harry thinks, because there’s no way they share the same feelings. She only touched him because she’s drunk, or tipsy, and he’s just a drug dealer, and no matter how much of a boner he has for her, his dreams of rutting over her like a dog in heat aren’t going to come true. She’s too delicate for him.

He feels shitty taking money from her, but that is his livelihood, and chances were the douchebags buying from her probably threw more money at her than necessary given how rich they were. So, he tells her the total, and he hands him- just like he expected- crisp bills.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the money from her and shoving it into his compartment. His legs make no move to straddle his bike, even though that’s what his brain tells them to do. They’re not really listening to him though. And y/n stands them holding the bag, staring at the shattered glass and worrying her lip between her teeth. She’s not in any rush to get back inside, so Harry asks her a question- something that’s been on his mind ever since he left her the last time- to keep her out a little longer, “h-how was it? Last time, I mean. Smoking with those people?”

The girl straightens at the memory, suddenly energized. “Oh! I didn’t actually do it. They tried to get me to, but I didn’t in the end.”

Jerking his chin towards the bag in her hand, “Do y’plan on eating some of these?”

Y/n shakes her head, “Not really, I have work tomorrow. So does everyone else but,” she shrugs, pursing her lips a little and looks over her shoulder at the house. The relatively quiet house. “I already drank a little more than I should have.”

“I see.” Nodding, he’s left with no other choice but to reach for his helmet to put it back on. It’s time to leave. For the life of him, he can’t seem to figure out why such a sweet girl would continue to choose to hang out with people like this. Who drink and do drugs recklessly. He was concerned for her safety, and he made a mental note to ask Mitch about it. He wasn’t anyone to tell her what to do.

He wishes he were, but he wasn’t.

“Well, be safe, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you,” and she waves at him with a small, shy smile. The cardigan is already slipping off her shoulder even though it was buttoned up, and she turns around to walk back into the house.

Harry’s finally gotten to dozing off when his phone rings.

Blindly, he slaps his hand around and curses whoever is on the other end of the line for interrupting his maladaptive dreaming about y/n. He got home grumpy, slamming doors behind him and stomping around his own home. Feeling sorry for himself, he had turned on his Sade playlist and allowed her smoky voice to lull him to sleep. Creases had decorated the space between his thick brows, his pink lips literally turned upside down and occasionally he mumbled curse words at himself. In effort to relieve his own stress, he turned on a lavender candle, and it burned dimly on his bedside.

“Yeah?” He rasps sleepily into the phone, annoyance dripping from his voice.

There’s a couple of sniffles on the other end. This gets his attention, his eyes snapping open as his ears strain to listen, and then, “H-Harry?”

Was he still dreaming? Harry bolted upright from his bed, dragging a hand over his face. Was that actually y/n’s weepy, crying voice leaking through his speaker? He recognized the normally sweet voice, but instead of shy and timid, it was shaky and sad… maybe even a little panicked.

“Y/n?” Harry asked, spiking up in volume as a million-and-one scenario of her in danger played out in his mind. “What’s wrong?”

She hiccuped, “I-I was- Everyone was- They gave me a piece and said I should- But I didn’t want to and they- I don’t-” The poor girl was making no sense, and couldn’t seem to keep track of her thoughts, whether it be because she was too frazzled, or her irregular sobs stole the rest of her sentences and she would start new. The fact that he has just woken up, remnants of sleep leaving him more and more by the second, didn’t help either. He had to get her to calm down somehow.

“Sweetheart,” He interjected, repeating the endearment twice before she stopped talking long enough for him to get his word in. “ Listen to me… Take a deep breath, listen to my voice.”

Y/n made a long, keening noise, and something stirred his gut like the whirls of dark waters in turbulent seas. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t herself, which only left one thing, “I’m trying but my skin feels weird and-”

She was having a bad trip.

Those fuckers have coerced her into taking something, whether it be the brownies he sold her, or some other drugs they had in the house. Y/n had taken drugs against her will, and she was stuck in a place where she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with anyone there because these were the same people that bullied her at her workplace. The situation she was in, and the simple fact that they did not respect when she said no made his blood boil. He felt like a caged cat, pacing back and forth, tail swiping low on the ground.

But his next thought cowed him.

If the drugs she had consumed were his brownies, did that mean he was partially to blame? He was responsible for there being something to press on her, to begin with, wasn’t he? He delivered them into her hands, which she then transferred to her party, and they turned it around on her. Harry was at the start of all of this.

He sat up, and ran his hand through his hair, swallowing back the sour taste that started at the back of his mouth and twisted his chest. Pushing all of it aside, he focused on her, “I know darling, I know. Close y’eyes. S’gonna be okay, y/n. Close your eyes.”

Rough, uneven breaths reverberated through his speaker, and he realized she was trying to calm herself. Harry wanted to scream and punch something. This is his fault. She was having a bad trip because of him. There were times when he was feeling generous and upped the milligram ingredient in his pastries, and he can’t remember if he did that this time but regardless, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt he’s ever felt this guilty. He could have said no, when she texted him. Or not respond at all. But he was selfish and wanted to see her. This is where his selfishness got him.

“M’kay.” She responds a little more sure, but it isn’t enough for him. He started this mess, now he has to fix it. He gets out of bed again, in such a rush that his duvet ends up strewn on the floor, and he reaches to tug his recklessly discarded jeans over his long legs. He yanks a burgundy knit sweater that he finds- also on the floor- but he’s not cold. He’s sweating with anxiety, and the sweater was just for her benefit. What if y/n is cold again? Harry has to be better not, he can’t fuck up with her anymore like this. He was going to take it off again as soon as he saw her and be shirtless again with his leather jacket.

With the device pressed between his shoulder and ear, he buttoned up his pants and shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he found, “Y’got your eyes closed f’me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she whimpers again, sounding so unsure, so small, and fuck, the crack down the middle of his heart grows. Closing your eyes while high was scary, especially if you were having a bad trip, Harry knows that having a handful of negative experiences himself, but it was the one thing he could think of right now. To get her to focus on his voice rather than anything going on around her. Wherever she was.

“Good girl. Now just listen to me, okay,” walking out of his room, he swiped his keys off his kitchen counter, and snagged his leather jacket from -surprise, surprise- off the floor right before entering the garage, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m… I think I’m in a bathroom,” y/n peeps a response.

“Alright, good. Good, sweetheart. Now how much did you take?” Putting the jacket on, Harry turns the key in the ignition and straddles his bike. He presses the button he keeps on his keys for the garage door, and walks his bike out. The street lamps in his neighborhood are on, illuminating patches of the concrete like polka dots.

There’s some noise in the background. It sounds like knocking and the call of her name. “M’not sure… maybe… maybe half? They’re knocking on the door, Harry.”

She’s so scared. For the first time, he realizes that she doesn’t trust anyone there. That’s why she was calling him. If there was, she would be resting her head in their lap, and talking things out with them. That’s what you do when you’re high. And this was her first fucking time doing any kind of drug? They made her take more than what she was supposed to.

“All at once? Don’t listen to them, sweetheart, focus on me.” This time, the timbre of his voice is livid. He didn’t take kindly to these kinds of things, and he was going to find some way to get back at all of them.

“Yeah, I took a bite only but Alana said I would be a party pooper if I didn’t eat more, so I did because everyone was watching.” There’s more noise, yelling. The knocking gets louder.

“Fuck!” Slapping his hand against his helmet, Harry tilts his head back and wills himself to calm down. He couldn’t drive like this.

She gasps, startled, “Did I do something wrong? Oh my God, am I going to die? Harry, am I-”

“Shh, no. No, y/n. Everything is going to be fine. I’m on my way, okay. Everything is going to be fine. Can you set a timer for eight minutes on your phone, and walk outside when it rings?” He nears the end of his driveway, shaking his head at his lack of restraint. He had to hold it together for her.

“Yeah,” she responds.

“Perfect, I’ll be right there. I’m coming to get you, okay?” He’s firm in his delivery, so she doesn’t have any reason to doubt him.

“Okay…” her single-word answer drags out, and he waits for her to say more. “Do you have to hang up?”

“I do, darling. My motorcycle helmet doesn’t have a Bluetooth mouthpiece, so I won’t be able to hear you. It’s only eight minutes, I promise.” He decides not to pay attention to how easily the endearment terms are rolling off his tongue, and to the sure-ness in his sternum that was missing at the start of their meetings.

“Alright. Bye, Harry.”

He doesn’t say bye, because it isn’t one. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

***

On his five (FIVE!!!) minute drive to y/n, full of felonies and annoyed car horns, Harry decides two things. One, owning a motorcycle is probably the best decision he’s ever made because it allows him to do things like this, and two, he’s come to the conclusion that he no longer cares for social formalities, and he’s going to… honor his cravings as long as y/n lets him. He knows that the moment he gets there, he’s going to want to coddle her, tug her to his side, and hide her inside his jacket as much as he could, like a bear with food in the winter. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad to provide the feeling of safety if she needed it. In fact, he was eager to. He decides that just for today, it’s okay.

Because he gets there three minutes earlier than the time he told her, so even though he doesn’t have to, he rushes to park his bike, swinging off of it before it’s even rolled to a complete stop and jogging up the long driveway to wait by some bushes near the window. He was partially obscured from the front door, and he wanted to stay that way in case Y/n wasn’t the first person to walk out.

Sweat coated the back of his neck while the rest of him was ice cold. Looking each and every way, he took off his jacket and slipped off the knit sweater to slip it over her head as soon as he could. Harry listened intently, the ragged sound of his own breathing filling his ears as he tried to pick up on any noise that might indicate trouble, but all he heard was faint chattering and the occasional bout of loud, loopy chortles.

Momentarily after, those voices get louder, some of them aggressive, and there are sounds of movement. The heavy pattern of feet moving quickly, the scratch of furniture on the floor. Someone- a female- is asking where someone is going, and Harry knows it’s y/n. Running to the door, he makes it just as it swings open, and a very red-eyed y/n stands there, one hand on the door with her eyes on the floor. She’s mumbling, something over and over, and he thinks one of those words is his name.

He’s reaching out to encase her in his arms when she blinks a few times, slowly, like she's just waking up, and her eyes are dragging up her body to register his face.

Tilting her head to the side confusedly, she steps out, closes the door behind her, and mumbles, “Harry’s waiting for me.”

His heart melts and he feels the bursting of a thousand suns in his chest. Smiling down at her invertebrate state, with his eyes softening and a gentle caramel-like baritone streaming through the rough in his voice, “I’m here, darling. Come with me.”

Poor thing is so out of it, her eyes start to water, her chin trembling and her shoulders beginning to shake with the rattles of oncoming sobs. Had he spooked her? Her eyes were puffy and hooded, but he knows that doesn’t mean she can’t see him. Y/n is probably just overwhelmed, he thinks. She’s out in the dark and cold, high, and he’s a tall, scary figure looming over her. Voices inside are getting closer, their sentences running over each other so that he can’t really understand what they’re saying, only that they sound upset.

Ignoring the rumble that is bound to get to them, Harry kneels down to her level and takes hold of her cold trembling hands in his large ones, bringing them to his chest to get her to focus on him, “lovie, s’me,” he pleads for her to recognize him, “I’m Harry, I came f’you like I said I would, y/n.”

“Y/n!” A man inside, short and skinny but snooty looking with a sharp, shark-like face stalks towards them. His parade of three- two blonde girls and a dark-haired guy- follow behind him. They all have glasses in their hands. One of them had a cigarette. “What are you doing?”

At the sound of her name, y/n’s eyes shut tightly, and her chest rises quickly with sharp breaths that escape her mouth. Dropping her head, a long whine seeps away from her like a sticky substance, and Harry wants to wipe it all away. He’s not sure why he’s reacting this way, or what he should do to help her, because he’s had bad trips but they’ve all been hallucinogen-based.

“Baby-”

“Y/n” the asshole with the dark hair calls her name so arrogantly, Harry can’t help but wonder what they’re like sober, “who is that? Will you come back inside? We’re about to start playing pass-blow.”

They’ve interrupted him twice now, and with every second that passes, he gets huffier. Frustrated. Angry. Because he’s just trying to talk to this angel and they’re overwhelming her. Y/n is whimpering now, her hands moist in his, and she’s sniffling every few seconds.

“Y/n,” he tries again to get her to look at him, to say something. He doesn’t want to act inappropriately, and with her consent already being disregarded once tonight, he’s doing everything in his power to get her to speak what she wants.

With glassy eyes, y/n dazedly stared at him for a moment. Her expression was stuck between confusion and sadness, her lips downturned and her brows furrowed, “Wanna leave, H.”

Harry nodded at her, “Okay, we can leave.” Then he stood up and grabbed the sweater over his shoulder, “Put this on first, lovie. It’s cold.” Slipping it over her head and helping her stick her arms through, he tugged it all the way down, near to her knees, all the while ignoring the group that started and whispered behind her. When he was done, he pulled her under his arm and walked in the direction of his bike.

All of two seconds passed before an agitating, grating voice interrupted them, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Harry can’t take it anymore. Placing his hand at the back of her head to cup her to his chest while he turns around to spit out a response at this douchebag, he takes deep breaths and tries to focus on her comfort. He tries to focus on the warmth of her breath against his chest and the way one hand is wrapped around his wrist, her fingers drawing loose circles on the tender skin, and the other is clutching his shirt tightly. But he feels that he has to say something, in some weird ‘marking my territory’ kind of way.

“Fuck off, asshole! You’re not getting shit from me anymore,” Y/n jumps in his arms at the tone and volume of his voice, and the wimp shrinks back, too. He mumbles something about it ‘not being fair’ like a whiny child and turns around. Harry gently removes her hand from his wrist so he can wrap it around her shoulders, and starts walking down the pathway back to his motorcycle, whispering, “C’mon baby, walk with me. Do you want me to take you somewhere? I can call an Uber? Sarah’s house? We can go back to my place, too. Y’name it, love, I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay.” If she’s surprised at his sudden softening, she doesn’t show it. Hell, she’s probably too out of it to do anything but appreciate anyone that is considerate to her current state, given that she was hanging around assholes who were making fun of her while she was having a bad trip.

They reach his bike, and Harry guides her by her shoulders to sit with her butt on the side of his seat. He crouches down in front of her, and wraps his hand on the back of her shins, grasping firmly to give her some kind of sensation to ground herself on. The loopy look in her eye that was there when he first arrived has drifted away like mist in a breeze, and she’s looking at him a bit more clearly.

“You still doing okay?” He asks, trying to catch her eyes but y/n is fiddling with her fingers and looks a little… frustrated? “Y/n? Can you tell me what you want to do, love?”

“M’sorry,” Her lower lip wobbles and there’s a small tremble in her chin. Her eyes, when she finally finds his, are watery, and it makes Harry’s heart pinch. He wants to hold her until she’s okay. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but can we... go back to your place?”

He rises then and cups her face in his hands to ensure that she’s looking at him. A little voice in his head is telling him that he’s being too touchy and needs to tone it down, but y/n can’t seem to keep her hands off him. His elbows are warmed through his jacket by her nimble fingers.

Cooing at her almost, “Hey, s’kay. Y/n okay. No crying, alright? I’m happy that I could be here to help you, okay? Of course, we can go back to my place, as long as you’re cool with it. Are you comfortable riding on my motorcycle right now? I can order an uber if you aren’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Nodding, she sniffles and looks into his eyes finally. They sparkle underneath the light, like stars are trapped in her pupils, and the sight takes his breath away. She’s still whispering, but it’s no longer as panicked and short. It might just be the brownies wearing off, or her high calming down.

“Right, then.” Before letting go of her sweet face, he swipes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks in a soothing motion. He walks around to the back of his bike and unlocks the compartment to take out a spare helmet. Holding it up, he gestures for her to tilt her head towards him, “safety first.”

“Your eyes are pretty. Like that thing that makes Superman weak.”

“Kryptonite, baby?” He secures the helmet on her head and makes sure it fits by tilting her head this way and that to check for wiggle room. When he’s satisfied, he raises the glass panel and murmurs, “and yours are prettier than mine.”

“Mhm,” she blinks blearily up at him, and his heart expands three times its size in his chest. “And you really think so?”

“I know so.” They share a small smile, and Harry’s nose is pink from the cold and the warmth of her gaze. He swings a leg over to straddle his bike, and scoots forward to make space for her, and pats the seat behind him. “Come sit behind me, love.”

Y/n grabs the hand that he holds out for her, and clumsily takes the seat.

“Now hold on to me. Hands around my waist,” There’s a strange pitch in his voice, and he has to clear his throat before speaking. Y/n listens to every word he says and places her hands on his waist so lightly, they might as well not even be there. The touch, as innocent as it might be, makes him squirm, and to hide it, he grabs them, and brings them around so she can splash her own fingers at his belly button. “Tighter, sweetheart. I don’t want you to slip off. If you don’t want to see, you can press your face into my neck, okay.”

“Okay,” she peeps. Harry pats her hands and turns his key in the ignition.

“Ready?” With his ankle, he kicks the stand up, and looks over his shoulder to check in on her. The muscles in his stomach are doing a strange tightening and flexing because they don’t know how to act normally under her touch.

“Yes.”

She squeezes her arms tightly around his waist, and she can feel her face pressing into his back as he starts his engine to take her home.

***

“Who were those people?”

It seemed as though removing her from the situation (Harry hates even thinking about the word because it wasn’t a situation, it was a fucking catastrophe that the poor little thing had to go through what she did) had been the best thing to do. From the looks of it, y/n was having a pretty normal high now, asking him if he had anything to snack on that was sweet and tart because she was hungry and her mouth was dry.

He kept himself well stocked on berries and fruit for this exact reason, so while he stood at the aisle in the middle of his kitchen cutting strawberries into nifty little hearts and tossing them into a bowl with freshly rinsed raspberries and blueberries, y/n sat on the barstool, watching him and humming a little tune. She was much different from the way she had been fifteen minutes ago, when they had just walked into his house, blubbering about how she was so sorry that he was losing sleep because of her, and how she still didn’t feel right. It took ten minutes of holding her in his lap on the couch (he still felt overly warm at having her so close to him), shushing and cooing at her, letting her know that everything was alright while stroking her hair, and another three before she stopped crying, and let him know he had a nice voice that tickled her spine and that she had the munchies.

Not that she called them that, of course. Harry doesn’t think she had ever heard the term, given how she knows fuck all about drugs and being high, just said “I’m hungry, h. Do you have anything tart and sweet? It feels like there’s a dragon in my belly.”

So he chucked, rubbed her back as he slipped her onto the spot next to him, and let her know that he had just the thing, and that he would be right back. But that didn’t stop her from trailing behind him like a duckling imprinted on her new human, pitter-pattering all over his tiled floor.

He hopes that she doesn’t feel like he’s prying, because while he was curious to know what compelled her to keep that kind of company, he wanted to know anything about her. This just seemed like a good segway into her.

Y/n is bobbing her head side to side to keep time with the cat clock he has up on the wall. She’s matching pace with its swinging tail, and clicking her tongue every second, pausing only briefly to say, “my co-workers,” in a chipper tone.

Casually, he hums, “The ones that bully you?”

“Yeah!” She’s quick to respond, and quick to realize what she confirmed. Meaning she also realized Harry knew something she had never told him about, and this confuses her. Snapping her head away from the clock, he watches as her shoulders droop and she takes in what he said. The gears were turning clearly on her face, when finally, she spits out her question warily, “Hey… how’d you know that?”

Harry froze mid-strawberry heart. He couldn’t exactly say that he had been asking Mitch about her, and that had told her about her relationship with everyone at work because then that would make him seem more like a creep and less like a love-struck infatuated fool, but he also didn’t want to lie to her completely. He had to stick with a little white lie, “umm, Sarah mentioned something about observing shitty things happening at work, and she mentioned your name.”

“Oh,” y/n’s lips form a little pout, “Are you mad?” When those words come out of her mouth, the possibility of him seemingly being mad at her starts overwhelming her senses, and she starts sputtering again, “I’m sorry- I’m just- I feel off, I-I shouldn’t have eaten that brownie. I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a wimp.”

With sympathetically pursed lips, Harry shakes his head and gently soothes her worries, “I’m not mad. Y’just having a bad trip, sweetheart. It happens sometimes, even to me. When you’re not in a comfortable environment, it happens.” He finishes with the final strawberry slice, and slides the bowl across the way for her, “this is for you, should help with the munchies. Want some water?”

“Please and thank you,” she mumbles around a bite of pink fruit. Sliding a glass across the table, Harry stands across the island to watch her. Y/n hand one hand wrapped around the small bowl, and the other holds fruit to her pouty red lips, swollen by the assault of her teeth. A trail of juice glistens down the side of her finger, and he watches, transfixed, as a pink tongue flicks out to lap up the mess in one, two, or three, tiny licks. A thick glob of saliva collects at the back of his throat because she's moaning, too. Little satisfied hums of pleasure and barely audible sounds of suction don’t escape him.

Blood rushes to the center of him, tenting his pants and he has to go somewhere because fuck she might see it if he has to get close to her.

Clearing his throat, Harry averts his eyes and tries to find somewhere else to set his eyes. Anywhere else because it’s so easy to picture his the ruddy mushroomed head of his cock pressed against her mouth like the tip of the strawberry heart, glistening with the moisture of precum and strings of her saliva as she wipes away his mess with her tongue like an eager little puppy.

What was wrong with him? She needed his help, and had turned to him when she needed him. She had already had people pouncing on her, she didn’t need someone else chasing her skirts.

“S’good, Harry,” y/n gulped down the last few pieces, and Harry blinked. Hard. “Can I have some more?”

There was a wide, lazy feline smile on her mouth. She looked… hazy. A bit sweaty. Disheveled. Y/n looked freshly fucked, and stray drops of fruit around her mouth were making it so incredible hard for him to breathe, “no more lovie,” he managed to say, “or you’ll get a stomachache.”

“Okay, H,” y/n yawned, unfazed by his rejection. Unaware of how crazy Harry was about her right now. His composure was fraying by the second. His mind played visions of them together like little prophecies, his tongue licking a stripe across the side of her face as he pounded her from behind so hard her eyes teared up. Her nails left little marks on his back from where she tried to grab leverage to bounce faster in his lap. Her skin dipping where Harry pawed at her to bring back against his dick. Fuck, he had to go into the restroom and tuck his boner into his pants.

“Sleepy?” He rasped, voice trembling, eyes glued to her glassy doe eyes, “come, I’ll show you to your bed.” It was easier to be quiet and gentle with her. A calm version of him meant a restrained version of him. Clean as opposed to filthy. Good instead of bad.

Her bed was really his bed. In his hurry to angle himself in such a way that she won’t see his raging erection, she forgets the state of disarray his bedroom is in. He walks slowly so he can hear the pitter-patter of her feet trailing after him, and stops at his door. Opening it, he inwardly cringes at everything inside. Blankets strewn all over the expanse of his mattress. Untucked and unaligned. One of his pillows on the floor instead of on the bed, and a rolling tray with crumbles of weed and baked mango bits on his bedside table.

Harry rushed to that first, not wanting her to see anything else related to drugs. So much for a first impression. What a way to enforce the bum-drug dealer stereotype.

“Promise m’not this messy,” he grumbles, picking up loose t-shirts and sweaters off the floor as he goes to turn on the lamp (swipe the tray away before she has a chance to see it), “it was a rough night. Was having a hard time sleeping.”

Y/n squeaks behind him and he turns. She’s still standing by the doorway, “t-this is your bed?”

Oh, God, she hates it. Harry starts swiping blankets off the bed to remake it for her. What was thinking, giving the sweet girl a messy bed?.“Yeah. I know it’s a little messy but I promise the mattress is comfortable. I bought it last year because I was having back problems a-”

“Where will you sleep?”

He starts tucking cover on the edges of his mattress, trying to be quick about it so she can see it’ll be neat for her. “On the couch, lovie.”

“B-but… this is your bed?” y/n poses it like a question, but Harry can hear the guilt in her voice because she would be taking his bed.

“I know that,” smiling softly at her, he shakes out and fluffs the pillows. “But I want you to sleep here instead. It’s much better than the couch.”

“Are you sure?” Her fingers tangle at her navel.m

He nods and tucks the used blanket under his arm to take to the couch with him. “More than, sweetheart,” Looking at her attire, he pulls open his drawer and grabs some items for him and a few for her, “want to change into something else or is that okay for you? Can give you a sweater or a t-shirt.”

Eyes lighting up at the large black shirt, y/n reaches out and points to it, “Can I have a shirt, please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does. But it happens, low and gravelly like the drag of a big cat’s tail on a cave floor. He sees the way her cheeks burn with his effect, and his cock throbs in his pants. He needs to get out of the room. “There’s a restroom down the hall if you have to go, and an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m gonna sleep right outside, so let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Y/n nods, “Okay.”

The moment he closes the door slightly behind him, his hand clutches his ground, shifting it sideways so he’s not pressing up against the zipper.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Harry wakes up to the sound of mewling.

Which is strange because he doesn’t own a cat, and high-pitched whimpering sounds are coming from… his bedroom? They’re muffled because his door is half closed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes- if you can even call it that, he was tossing and turning because he couldn’t focus on sleeping knowing the object of his main thoughts is only a few strides away- Harry swings his feet off the side of the couch and pushes off with his knuckles. The sweatpants he had on dragged down low on his hips, the slant of his Adonis belt, and the thin skin right above the base of his cock visible. Sleepily, he tugged them higher and pressed the door open to check in on y/n.

And he felt his heart stop in his chest at what he saw.

Y/n was writhing in his bed, the sheet tangled between her legs and she was naked. Her face was flushed with tears, her chest choked up with sobs she was trying to keep down by biting on his pillow. Her hair was wild from her erratic movements caused by… well Harry didn’t know what.

He rushed to her side, “Y/n! Y/n, baby.”

A gasp wrenched itself from her chest, eyes were blown wide so that he could see how red they were, swollen at the waterline. She yelped like just his touch hurt him, and after removing his hands to ease her pain, Harry frantically ran his gaze all over her body, looking for anywhere she might be hurt. To see if maybe she had had some kind of reaction to the drugs she had taken.

“What is it, love? Talk to me,” he whispers, not wanting to scare her even more. His thick brows are furrowed heavily, eyes heavy with concern and a touch of sleep. He had never felt so helpless before, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to cradle her close to his chest and rock her sweetly until her crying stopped.

Y/n keened, whiny and long, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Why are you sorry, lovie? Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it all okay,” he rubs a hand across her head, featherlight but enough to brush the hair away so he could see her clearly. She turned to him, following his touch with her nose like an animal searching for the warmth of touch, and then curled deeper into herself, hands clutching at her navel, “do we have to go to the hospital, y/n?”

“I was hungry, H,” y/n shuts her eyes tightly and gulps a breath of air, “but you said no more.. and there were brownies in the drawer.”

Harry rubs her back, transfixed by y/n’s bizarre actions as she moans at his touch. Cocking his head to the side, he mumbles what she said, “brownies in the…”

Realization dawned on in.

No, no, no, no. Looking at the bedside table that previously housed his rolling tray, it now was covered with two, blood-red pieces of crumpled foil crumbs of chocolate dotted around the trash. The words Kitty-kat Brat in a sensual, curly font stamped on the side. A script of warning on the side said that each partner should only consume a fourth of the brownie every hour as desired and that after consumption, the effect would only be sated by the exhaustion of endorphins. And at the top, in a glitter color: aphrodisiac.

Y/n had consumed two aphrodisiacs that Harry kept for himself on the occasion that a partner might want to experiment with them. The poor girl was hurting because she was… so fucking horny.

“Oh, lovie,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck was he going to do? Leave her? No, he couldn’t do that when… when her pussy was weeping for attention. Call someone else to help? When help meant she would get fucked so hard she’d be cock-dumb? Absolutely not. But also, Harry didn’t feel right touching her when she was clearly under another influence. And if he didn’t feel right doing it himself, why the fuck would he let someone else do it? With a curled knuckle, he hooks her chin and forces her to look at him, “can you tell me exactly what it is you’re feeling? S’okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

Y/n shuts her eyes and tries to yank her chin away, but Harry tightens his grip, pinching the sides of her mouth so she can’t move, “can’t do that, H.”

It’s laughable really, he thinks. How whiny she’s being when her actions are the reason she was in this position. He had told her no more, and did she listen to him? No. In fact, she went looking through his drawers and ate his brownies, which he did not give permission for her to do.

If there was one thing that got him riled up, it was girls who didn’t listen and then cried at the consequences of their own actions.

He chuckled at her, even though he was surprised at the change in his feelings about the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. Here he was, thinking she was this innocent little thing. And she eats his fucking sex brownies. Shaking his head, he taps her cheek with his finger to get her to pay attention to him, “I need to know what’s happening so I can find some way to help. Aren’t you hurting, baby?”

Keening, back arching off the bed, she cries, “So badly, Harry. My… pussy hurts. I’ve already cum so many times but nothing I do is working!” Blood rushes to his dick at the lewd confession. How long she has been in here with her fingers rubbing her cunt with him just outside the door. Muffling her moans so he doesn’t hear them. The thought makes him groan internally. “It doesn’t feel right.”

His voice is low and gravelly, filled with a hunger that was kindling in his loins in preparation to spread like wildfire. “What doesn’t feel right?” He asked.

“Me doing it myself,” she swallows wetly, and her hand comes up to grip his wrist, Her thighs are chafed from how urgently she keeps rubbing them together, and through the lace of her bralette he can see how hard her nipples are. The glassy look in her eyes isn’t just from tears, it’s a reflection of how deep her need goes. “I-I… I want someone else to do it. I want you to do it.”

Little crescents of broken skin are left in her wake, and he lets her. The sting of pain is keeping him centered at the moment. The sound of her harsh breathing, rustling of the mattress springs from all her movement, and the bursts of circling motion at her hips are testing him. He wants to squeeze the tip of his dick to alleviate some of the aches that are settling there. “You want me to do what, sweet thing?”

“I want you to help me, H. Please?” Blinking at him blearily, y/n pouts. She was begging him.

Crooning to her with a condescending pout of his own, Harry cups the side of her face and runs a thumb under her eyes were tears have started falling once more, “help you what? Use your words.”

Y/n huffs and sobs, her heels sliding against the mattress, “help me cum! Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at me, y/n. I said look at me,” he shakes her by the grip he has on her face gently to get her to snap out of the whining and whimpering. Needing her eyes on him so that he could read her, he asks “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, yes. I am. Please do something.”

“Ask nicely.”

The girl is back to mewling, taking the hand on her face and moving it down to her legs so that Harry would get the hint, “please touch me, H.”

Y/n pulls him down onto the bed by his hand, and Harry lets her tug at him until he’s sitting down next to her before he pulls out of her grip and grabs both of her hands in one. Placing them above her head, he looks at her pointedly, eyes dark, so she doesn’t move her hands from where he leaves them. Big hands splayed wide across her trailed down the sides of her waist and stopped at her hips, rubbing gentle circles, “Open y’legs, don’t be shy now. M’just gonna help, and I need to see what I’m working with.”

Briefly, she mumbles some kind of complaint, the remnants of any modesty making themselves known, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. He waited, glaring at her almost, until she allowed her thighs to fall open freely, and he hummed low at the back of his throat. Sliding his palms up the inside of her thigh, he began to talk to her in a tone that many didn’t get to hear, “want my fingers, lovie? Or my mouth? Don’t think you deserve my cock for being naughty and touching something that wasn’t yours. Only good girls get my cock.”

“Everything, H. I’m sorry, won’t do it again. Give me anything you want,” y/n weeps, her hands in a fist above her head digging into the pillow that is halfway out of its case from all her moving around.

“Think I’ll pet y’weepy cunt first, hmm? How does that sound?” Harry bites back a moan and feels the tip of his dick rubbing against the inside of his sweatpants. Reaching down to adjust himself doesn’t seem like a priority when his girl is beneath him with her legs wide open and pleas are falling from her lips for him to touch her. The inside of her thighs are irritated, the black gusset of her thin underwear stained white with the cream of her pussy. He wants to press his nose against her and lick her clean. His mouth is watering for him to do something of the sort but instead, he hooks her underwear aside and…

And his own hips buck forward against his will. She’s so slick, it's running down the seam of her ass and onto his bedsheets. Drops of her creamy cut sit on the edge of her hole, accumulated from her previous orgasms. Y/n twists uncomfortably and pants. Harry, wanting to hear her cries again, smears her cum with two fingers around her entrance, and slides them into her pussy.

“Perfe- oh, God.” She clenches around him, and he can feel that spongy place brush against the tip of his finger the second before she starts twitching from an orgasm. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream and her head tilts back into the mattress. Harry smirks as she cums from one touch, and his own jaw drops at the amount of moisture that comes out of her, dripping onto his knuckles.

Guiding her through it, Harry continues moving his fingers at a steady pace, bringing his thumb up to the hood of her mound to press against her clit, “Oh, y’poor thing. Just a touch and y’already gushing on m’hand? Thought I was gonna have to try for it. Y’cum this easy for everyone, lovie, or jus’ me?” He leans over her with a hand braced beside her head and whispers into her ear, “how ‘bout I work f’the next one?”

Ripples of need were running down his spine and to his groin but he focused all of his energy into paying attention to what made her react the most. Listening for the hitch in her breath. He dragged his fingers out slowly, curling them on the inside of her wall as he did so where was persistent pressure leading up to her g-spot, and y/n made an animalistic noise mixed between a whine and cry. His tongue lolled against the side of her ear, the skin hot and flushed from the heat of her body. Harry nipped the tender flesh of her neck and waited to hear her yelp to soothe the sting with his tongue. Kissing his way down to her throat, he presses his fingers into her as far as they go and runs circles around her clit while keeping steady pressure on the bundle of nerves inside of her. He’s rubbing her inside and outside, slowly, slowly, and then starts picking up the pace.

Y/n is mewling, her tits in the air as her back lifts up in a hold. Her moans are becoming louder, her pussy tightening around his fingers and he knows she’s going to orgasm again. He’s mumbling how good she is being for him against the side of her breast, his nose holding back the flimsy lace as he leaves the plush skin and fights the urge to cant his hips into the bed like a dog in heat. He feels hot everywhere, like the heat turned on by itself in his room, and when y/n’s fingers curl into his hair and pull as she cums again and screams his name he can’t find it in him to reprimand her. Harry just talks her through it.

“Good girl, y/n. Y’being so good for me. Think you can give me another, lovie? Because I want one more. Y’gonna give me one more, okay?” Cooing at the way she digs her head back into the pillows and shakes her head, Harry increases his rhythm so that the muscles in his bicep flex with every move. She’s still spasming around him from the orgasm she’s riding, but he doesn’t let it end, “ah, you’re so cute, saying no but this little cunt is weeping yes. Who am I to deny her, hmm?”

She’s adamantly shaking her head no, eyes lulling shut and her mouth slacks with a cry, “too much… too much, h. Sensitive, please-”

“Weren’t you begging for it earlier, y/n? M’only giving you what you asked for,” Harry thinks he could cum just from watching her body tense with unyielding pleasure. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and Harry is back to fucking her fast and hard with his fingers while licking and sucking on her nipple, “that’s it. That’s it right there isn’t it, baby? Abusing y’special spot so it’s too much for you, hmm?”

He’s muffled against her skin and the sound of her wet pussy being penetrated by his fingers is so filthy, his own eyes roll into the back of his head. He takes a deep breath and smells the sex on her, the tanginess of her juices zinging his tastebuds, and god he has to taste her.

“Yes, yes, please, Harry,” y/n is anguished, heels set firmly so she can meet his hand halfway, and she's so erratic he can’t focus on anything else but the furious pace she’s set.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Harry groans, moving one of his legs so one of hers is in between his, and the movement of her shin against his crotch makes him pant. Every muscle is tense with a restraint that is slowly melting away. With every rub of her against him- she’s doing it unknowingly, and he’s rutting against her- he’s closer to spurting in his sweatpants.

“Mhm,” her affirmation drags out into breathless gasps as the weak squeeze unclenches and clenches all over again as another orgasm rolls through her.

He can’t take it anymore. He removes his hand to give her a chance to recover, takes the hand covered in her cum, and sticks it down his pants. Hissing at the relief he gets from squeezing himself from base to tip has him seeing white.

“Good girl, baby,” stroking himself, he nuzzles against her chin. He wants to kiss her but he wants to talk them both up into a frenzy. “Took it so well, let me treat y’little pussy right. Does she still want more?” y/n nods, sniffling and scrunching her nose, “you do? Want my mouth or my fingers next, lovie?”

“I want more than that. It’s not… not enough,” she whimpers.

Harry cocks his head to the side and thrusts into his hand once more before going to touch her again. He’s painfully hard, and the catch of his tip against the terrycloth fabric inside is overstimulating him. “Not enough? I made you come three times and it wasn’t enough?”

“Give me more, Harry, please I-I need it,” y/n angles her hips in his direction again. A thin film of sweat coats her skin, and the baby hairs at her temple are sticking to the skin. Her eyes are red, but she’s not crying anymore, and a line of clear snot trails into her upper lip that she keeps sniffling. She looks thoroughly fucked now before Harry’s even stuck his cock in her. He cleans her face with the edge of a blanket and kisses her under each eye. Before he can right himself again, she pulls him back down by his hair and presses her mouth against his. Little pecks at first, and then she’s licking at the seam of his mouth, all the while Harry just smirks. He doesn’t kiss her back at first, and when she starts to cry about it, he leans in and devours her mouth.

He’s brutal in his kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth and knocking his teeth against hers. She tastes sweet, like chocolate and strawberries and weed. Y/n melts against him, opening up her lips to him and licking back like a cat. When they separate, a string of saliva connects their mouths.

“What do you need? Hmm? Want my mouth and my fingers, too? No?” He hums low, pretending to think of naughty ways to get her off, when in reality, he’s already thought of a million and one, “want to ride one off on my thigh? Rub that wet thing between y’legs all over mine and leave a sticky mess behind? Y’might give y’self a burn, but that’s what you get for poking into something y’should have.”

“No. I’m sorry, H, just please- help me-” she pleads meekly.

“I want to help y’lovie, but y’gotta tell me because I’m running out of ideas here,” before he can finish her sentence, she makes a frustrated huff and buries her head into his neck. Y/n wraps her leg around his, trying to pull him on her but all she manages is to lift herself up and grind her molten core on the hard ridges of his abs. An absurdly loud moan resonates throughout the room, and Harry groans at the way she ruts into the air, a pull in his abdomen demanding his dick makes contact with something. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders, and Harry has to remain tense while she uses him as leverage to push her hips up so her clit drags against the ridge just below his belly button. He’s being mean, watching her struggle and pant, sweat gathering at her temples and between her tits, but he can’t help but watch her use him. She’s so focused on trying to get herself off, it’s almost like he’s not even there as long as he isn’t moving.

The way he watches her is so nonchalant, it’s almost as if he’s not a few touches away from cumming himself. He merely smiles lazily at her efforts, mumbling lame encouragement and telling her she was so cute while she puffed and struggled to get herself off. She couldn’t keep herself touching his abdomen for long enough to pick up a pace. When she starts to tire out, her pants turn into frustrated huffs, and her thighs quake from exertion.

Harry chuckles, “y’need help, baby? Y’were doing just fine before. Didn’t seem to need me then.”

She sulked, and the expression on her face was only missing the stomping of feet to resemble a tantrum, “You’re being mean!”

“Oh, darling,” he soothed, licking the salty drop of moisture that fell from the side of her eye in frustration. He wanted to keep toying with her until the only word she knew was his name in different volumes and tones, but if his own dick was hurting this badly without an added stimulant, he can’t imagine what she was feeling. He gently kissed her lips and pulled away before her eager tongue made an earnest effort to deepen their connection. “don’t cry.”

“It hurts,” y/n turned her head to the side, into the pillow to cover her face, and mindlessly ran her hands across his shoulders. A smattering of gooseflesh covered her, and for some reason, it softened him.

“Here, why don’t we try this,” he moves them so swiftly, so she’s on top, her legs on either side of him, her center sitting atop his belly button. Harry decides that he’s going to let her have her fun for a while before taking control. “Better, lovie? Like this?” Her jaw is slack from the contact of the muscular ridges, her clit grazing against the indent of his abs as guided by his hands on her hips, dragging her back and force to set a rhythm. Hurried ah-ah-ah’s are choked out from her, and y/n tries to go faster, her thigh muscles straining against Harry’s grip. And he lets her go.

With his elbows planted on the bed to support himself, he flexed his core and smirked in satisfaction when she mewled and humped him erratically, muttering that it felt so good, how she was so close. There had never been a time like this before, in which he practiced such restraint, but just gazing at her was enough. He began to pant with a savage abandon, entranced by the bouncing of her tits, the little huffs of breath that interrupted her cries. Precum leaked out of his dick and made a dark sport on the gray fabric of his pants at the feeling of her wet pussy rubbing against him. Using him to get off. This sweet angel who had been scared to look him in the eye at one point, who didn’t know shit about drugs, who had captivated him before he knew her name, was using him to get off. He had never felt so lucky.

“Go on then, use me,” Harry canted his hips up to press against her as she came down on him, and groaned when the tip of his dick touched her ass. “Give this pussy what it needs, baby. Whatever she wants,” grabbing her thigh, he stroked her, swiping up and down and skating his thumb on the tender skin that wasn’t touching.“Can I rub you right here? She wants me to touch her, will y’let me?”

Nodding fervently, so eager, “Yes, please. Anything you want Harry, need to going to-”

“Cum all over my belly?” Harry suggested, his palm stopping where her thigh meets her hip so that his thumb could reach her clit and swipe against it as she moved. Her hole fluttered against him, and then he felt her start to clench, grasping around nothing as the beginnings of another burst build inside her. His thumb flicked her bundle of nerves faster, rolling longer in bursts of two or three, and then she stilled, her thighs spasming from an orgasm announced by the shout of his name. “Look at you, y’shaking,” he whispered in awe, his hips stuttering when she feebly tried to rock against him while still cumming, “and you still fucking want more.”

“Make it go way, H,” y/n pleaded, her shoulders twitching from the continuation of the orgasm she had previously. The dim lighting in the room makes it hard to see but he doesn’t miss the way she arches her back and pushes her tits out. His mouth waters at the thought of sucking them again, but he wants her to be filthy. As filthy as his thoughts were getting.

“No.” He says, taking his hand away and watching her pussy shudder against him as he cuts her orgasm short.

Y/n whines low in her throat and lets her body fall forward. She rests on top of him now, her head by his ear. Her mouth is hot against his ear when she mutters wetly, “please.”

“You’re gonna do what I just did again, and again until it stops,” Harry rubs a hand up her back, through her shoulderblades and up the nape of her neck until his fingers are deep in her hair, and tightens his grip to keep her still from licking his jaw. He yanks her back so her face is a hair away from him, their noses a centimeter from touching, “or until you tell me exactly what you want”

Gulping, her head bobs up and down and her tone becomes pitiful, “Kay. Please.. can you… unbutton your jeans, please?”

“I said y’ have to tell me, not take what you want, y/n.” He feels try to slowly inch forward to kiss him.

“I know! I know!” Shutting her eyes tightly and whimpering when Harry pulls her back to stop her movements again, her high-pitched tone of voice sounds like music to his ears, “m’gonna go again, I promise, but your buttons are hurting my… butt.”

There's a beat of silence, and then he kisses her nose. Let's go of her hair, and tucks his hands behind his head like he's kicking back for a fucking vacation and not like if she accidentally touched his cock one more time he would cum. “Y’cute, lovie, go ahead, then. M’only watching this time.”

“S’not fair!” Y/n complained but reluctantly started moving over her own lubrication. Harry was so wet with her arousal that the filthiest suction noises were coming from where their skin touched. The insides of her thighs were hot against him, and he imagined it was from the irritation. Later, he would have to apply the cream to them. But he wasn’t going to touch her then. Not when she was being so bratty after he made her cum several times.

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry growled “what’s not fair is you ate my sex brownie, y/n, but I’m not complaining, am I? What if I wanted to fuck someone else senseless, eat out their sopping cunt, and have them beg me ‘more, h, s’not enough’? Have them mark me with their cum like you’re doing right now, and play with their clit till they can’t talk properly?” She didn’t like what he had to say“Oh, I see, y’don’t like that, do you, baby? I’m doin’ these things with you, s’not enough?”

“No!” A warmth spread in Harry’s chest at her disapproval of him doing things to someone else, at the thought that they shared the same possessiveness.

“What more do you-” she lifts her hip and inches back, and then she pulled his sweatpants down and come down in such a way that her folds were fit snugly against the angry red tip of his cock. He hissed and stilled, “Y/n, what-”

“Want this, h,” y/n whispered and rolled her hips against him. That was all it took. One touch of her pussy on him and hot, thick white ropes of his cum were spurting between them. A long animalistic groan thrummed in his chest, the tightness in his core snapped and so did he. He grabbed her with a curse and held her still as he fucked out his orgasm, his dick sliding between her folds furiously as the orgasm continued like it would never end. Moaning as he watches her bite down on her lip, climbing up on another climax as moisture burst on the length of his cock. She was quivering, grinding against him as much as she could so prettily. His blood was boiling at it felt like he was going to have heatstroke from how warm he was everywhere, but the pleasure was lighting up each of his nerves and he could care less if he died right after.

“My cock?” He snarled, his lips pulled back so he looked like the animal he was being. Puffs of air were sifting through his nostrils harshly, but he kept dirty talking her. “Y’naughty little thing, lookin’ like a fucking wreck with me sliding in between you like this, fuck, sucking me right in.”

“Feels so good,” y/n panted, her hands on his wrists at her hips. Her touch was featherlight on him, and Harry knew she was getting to the end of the brownies.

“Does it, baby?”

“Yeah, you’re so warm, it-it feels really really good,” bits of her words disappeared with gasps that took her oxygen away. She was so flushed, her skin damp with sweat.

“Is that all you know how to say?” He slows his movements, and instead of moving her over him, Harry thrusts. His member setting a harsh, punishing pace that would have him reaching her g-spot repeatedly if he was inside her.“Or are you just not thinking right because you want me to fuck you so badly?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Say it,” snarling, he pistoned up into her, the familiar sensation of a coiling rope building in him once more. The tip of his cock between them was leaking precum, y/n’s pussy dripping creamy slick on him so there was a sopping mess between them.

“I want you to fuck me, h,” on his name, y/n starts shaking uncontrollably, another orgasm running through her and this one renders her into a sobbing mess. Harry… well he’s moaning without reserve, eyes shut as pleasure overtakes him again. This time he savors it, slowing their bodies down so their sensual touches drag out longer. Low sobs shakes her, and she collapses beside him and starts to curl in on herself from the overwhelming sensations. Harry follows, climbing over her and turning her so she’s facing him and looking her right in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna fuck you dumb, tonight, sweetheart. Not when you’re already stupid horny from a brownie y’took without permission. Remember what I said? Only good girls get me between their legs. And you were so, so, naughty.” He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses below her breasts, peppering them both and tweaking her nipples when they weren’t in his mouth.

Y/n begins to cry, tears immediately falling at his rejection. Her beginning is desperate, “No. No, h. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, I want-”

“I know you want to cum. So that’s what I’ll give you. But not with my dick. Gonna eat up all the honey that comes out of this puffy little hole and I don’t care if y’cum so much y’crying because your slit is numb. I’m gonna stop when I want to, understand? Nod if you understand.” She does as he asks, and sniffles. “Good. Now lay down and let me eat.”

Her back has barely touched the mattress before his mouth is on her, devouring her like it's both the first and last meal he’s ever had. His tongue is hot on her already creamy pussy, and the taste of her has him rutting into the mattress like a fucking animal, fucking down on it like it’s her. He laps at her desperately, ears keenly aware of every moan, squeak, whimper that comes out of her. He fucks into her hole with his tongue, licking her cream before it's even fully out of her, and spitting it back out on her clit. The action makes y/n freeze, and he looks up, momentarily confused thinking that he’s crossed a boundary but…

But y/n’s head is thrown so far back he can count the veins in her neck, and her body is trembling, a restrained garble of words incoherently coming out of her in pants and Harry knows she’s coming. He blows on her clit, allowing his spit and her cum to drip before going back down to slurp at it. He focuses on that little button, suckling at it and flicking it with his tongue. Soon enough, y/n is yelping, her hands in his hair as she tried to wretch him away. It’s finally become too much.

“Don’t you fucking pull me off, I’m not finished yet,” he momentarily takes his hands off of her thighs and wraps them around her wrist, pressing down on the tendon at the center to wiggle her fingers off his head. He tucks them under her back, and places his mouth on her once more, dark eyes threatening her as he mouths his words on cunt, “Lay down and don’t pull again or I’ll tie y’up.”

Holding her down firmly, Harry splayed his tongue flat on her and sucks, surprised and pleased by the shriek that escaped her. Y/n is crying, saying she can’t take it, that it was enough, but Harry isn’t listening. He’s so lost in his own pleasure, the arousal he gets from her taste, the sounds she makes because of him, that he’s chasing after his own orgasm by rubbing his cock against the bed. He’s getting frustrated because he wants to get there as soon as she does, and he knows it's gonna be soon with the way she’s throbbing against his lips.

So he reaches down and squeezes himself in a tight fist, lubrication not necessary because of how slippery he was already. The moment he does, his vision goes white, and there's a spurt of heat below his belly button, and moisture drenching the lower half of his face.

They lay there heaving briefly, and he becomes aware that she’s no longer awake. Her breathing is stinted with hiccups from leftover sobs, but she’s asleep. The tip of her nose is red, her eyes red-rimmed. He knows she’s going to wake up tired and with a headache tomorrow, but he’ll be there with her. With the corner of a blanket, he cleans them up as much as he can and tosses that soiled sheet away, grabbing a much more clean one and throwing it over them.

“Night, baby.” He kissed her forehead and tucked his Achilles heel close to his chest, the girl sleeping like a rock in his arms.

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