#she read them to filth and I’m living for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katiexpunk · 4 months

Note

okay i’m feeling a little delulu and playing pool with the boys right now. ideas are rolling and i want a fic where joel fucks reader on a pool table (breeding kink maybe?!?) you’re the best

Run the Table | Pairing Joel and Tommy Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table. Word Count: ~6K Warnings: Dubcon from the perspective that the reader is a little drunk, but she's definitely a willing participant. Family feuds. Alcohol. Age gap implied but not referenced explicitly. Flirting and bantering. Threesome with the Miller Bros. Betting. Pool. Oral (m and f receiving). Fingering. Praise. Use of daddy. Fucking on pool table. Pool. Suggestive use of a cue stick. Dom undertones from Joel. Hard core breeding kink. References to pregnancy. Cum kink. Cum swallowing. Praise kink. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Use of pet names. Tommy and Joel are suave in this, but reader gives them a run for their money. Use of slut. No descriptions of reader, except that she has boobs and hair. Minimally edited. Filth, filth, filth. Authors Note: Thank you so much for the ask, Abby @javipispunk/@barzalmatty! This was such a treat to write. You naughty girl, I hope this inspires you, or at the very least, makes you O. Thanks for submitting this ask in babe, ily. This will be my last fic of 2023. Thank you all so much for your continued support.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

The living room, which was all holiday cozy a few days ago, now feels like a battleground in the weird liminal space between Christmas and the New Year. You can’t remember the last time you spent more than three consecutive days with your family, and now you remember why.

The family drama has hit an all-time high, with arguments about the dumbest stuff echoing through the house – your mother yelling that someone put her Pyrex in the wrong cabinet, your father yelling at your brother for adjusting the settings on the remote. Hell, even the dog is over it; spending most of the day lounging in front of the LED fireplace that your mother picked up at Costco last winter. You never really understood that one, given your living room has an actual functioning fireplace.

Of course, you all love each other, it’s just that the festive candle is now nearly snuffed out; not to be lit again until Thanksgiving. Or if your mother had it her way, Easter, but you haven’t cared much for Easter since that one year that your cousin Ron ate way too many hard-boiled eggs and couldn’t stop farting all night. Never again, you swore to yourself then, and still swear to yourself now.

You come back to your hometown maybe once a year, twice if someone dies. You haven’t lived here in years, and yet the streets bear the weight of nostalgia, each corner holding echoes of memories that time has both polished and weathered. The town is a paradox, frozen in a bittersweet dance between familiarity and change.

You’re cozied up under a blanket on the couch, a glass of red swirling in one hand, the Eve Babitz novel your roommate gifted to you in the other. Try as you might, you just can’t seem to relax; the words on the page are blending into a snarled blob of ink. The tension is too much; the heavy air in the house makes it difficult to concentrate. Fuck this.

You throw on your coat and slip out of the house. I’m going out, be back later, you call out but you don’t wait for your words to be acknowledged before the front door slams shut, not that anyone was listening in the first place.

You pause on your front stoop in the cool night air and take a deep inhale, tilting your head up to the sky, the moonlight coating your face like a veil. The winter air that fills your lungs makes you feel alive, and it’s then that you realize how close you were to suffocating mere moments ago.

You stand under the stars and consider your options before eventually landing on the best of them. Your old watering hole from college; the one with the heavy pours and the best pool tables in the town – Joel’s Place.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way there. In the silence, it’s easy to let your let your mind wander. You haven’t been back in years, and yet, your mind still drifts to thoughts of dimples and salt-and-pepper curls. You wonder if he’ll remember you – not likely, you think.

Your stomach flutters at the thought anyway.

++++

The door to Joel’s Place creaks open, releasing a gust of frigid winter air that clings to your coat. Note to self, bring a scarf next time. The warmth inside is a welcome contrast, and the familiar scent of the aged wood and whiskey acts like a time machine and transports you back in time to your early 20s. It’s just the same; the mahogany bar, stools with cracked leather seats, and vintage beer signs adorning the walls.

While aspects of the town may have changed, you’re pleased to find that Joel’s Place has not.

As the door swings shut behind you, you find yourself in a familiar dimly lit space, except – it’s not – it’s quiet. A little too quiet. The pool tables in the distance stand untouched, their felt surfaces waiting for the familiar crack of balls colliding. The hanging lights above them cast a warm, dim glow, illuminating the emptiness that seems to linger. It starkly contrasts the energy you were surrounded by earlier in the night.

The place is empty, except for one customer at the bar. The bartender – Joel, you hope – is nowhere to be seen. You hesitate for a moment, taking in the scene before deciding to sit an appropriate two stools away from the man, not wanting to be awkward. You don’t think he would mind, not really, but you suppose the rule in a situation like this is similar to public transport etiquette. If there’s more than one open seat, you never sit directly next to anyone.

“Excuse me, sir – is this seat taken?” You ask, a hint of sweetness and formality behind your voice. You know it’s not, but the manners that were hammered into you from your tidy upbringing are hard to shake.

The man looks at you, the neck of the beer he’s nursing parting from his lips as he does. Now that you have a full look at him, he’s quite gorgeous. Olive sunkissed skin, dark curls, deep brown eyes that all but scream trouble.

“All yours, sugar,” he responds. And oh, he’s southern to boot, with a hint of a twang behind his inflection.

You slip your puffy coat off your shoulders, revealing your ensemble for the night; a simple pair of jeans and a tight long-sleeve cashmere sweater that cups the curve of your breasts and lifts them just right, a lovely slit down the middle that exposes just enough. You hook your coat under the bar and pull out the stool, its metal legs scratching against the floor as you do.

“So, the producers didn’t have enough to pay for some extras for this show, or what?” you joke, a slight smirk on your face as you settle yourself onto the stool.

“‘Spose not,” he responds, a hint of a smile on his face as he brings the bottle back to his lips, his eyes locking with yours as he does.

“And the uh–bartender, Joel, if I remember correctly,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice, “he here, or is this just a one-man show?”

And wouldn’t that be something, you here all alone with just him.

“Can’t be a one-man show with you here, darlin',” he responds, his dark eyes drinking you down like the beer in his hand. “He’s here, just in the back hooking up a new keg,” he adds.

“Oh,” you respond, your voice a smidge too high – like you’re some fucking school girl about to see her crush in 3rd period. “Good, that’s good. Can’t have all of our friends here go thirsty,” you retort, making a vague gesture with your palm to the empty space in the bar in an attempt to recover yourself from your very obvious interest in the bartender being here. So stupid.

“Can’t have that, they’re a rowdy bunch” he responds with a wink and you flash him a warm smile. “You’re funny, I like you,” he adds, “name’s Tommy, by the way, and you are?”

You give him yours with an extension of your hand. His swallows yours, but he’s gentle and discerning with the shake he gives it. He holds you there, just looking, and you feel a warmth creep up to your face. With your hands still interlocked, a broad figure pushes through the door from the kitchen with a resounding thud.

You turn to face him, and his amber eyes immediately find yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your pulse quickens, and you’re now acutely aware of the fact that you’re still linked with Tommy.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Either ‘m getting old and my eyes are deceiving me, or it’s little Miss Shark sitting at my bar, chatting up my brother,” Joel lets out, his voice low and even. The corners of his mouth lift and you think he might smile, but his face goes just as unreadable as always as he grabs for a bottle behind the bar. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you around here, sweetheart. Good thing, too. You ran out some of my best-paying customers."

You don’t dwell on the comment, your mind is too absorbed, drunk off the fact that he remembers you. It’s been years, but you swear he hasn’t aged a day. You can’t help but eye fuck him as he slides a glass in front of you, and pours you a finger of whiskey. Not only does he remember you, but he remembers your go-to drink, as well.

As you lift the edge of the glass to your lips, you see Tommy shift his gaze from Joel and back to you, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief.

“Wait, little Miss Shark,” he begins, tipping the bottle in his hands in your direction as if to point at you, “Yo–you’re the one who ran the tables here for years? Shit, darlin’,” he says, dropping his gaze to the bartop for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he’s impressed, before looking back at you under his lashes.

“That so hard to believe?” you respond, your voice coated in the warmth of the alcohol. Your cheeks are hot, but you’re not confident it’s just from the liquor; more than likely it’s a result of Joel’s eyes, heavy like boulders, that haven’t left you since he walked in.

Tommy doesn’t answer you.

“Not my fault they underestimated me,” you retort, nursing down the amber liquid in your glass.

Joel laughs.

You and Tommy both turn to face him.

“Bullshit, sweetheart. You knew exactly what the hell you were doin’,” he adds, nodding his head slightly to you, the bottle hovering in his hand, signaling you for a refill. He pours a glass for him and Tommy this time, too.

You look at him, mouth slightly agape like you’re waiting for him to finish his side of the story. He turns to face Tommy, one hand resting on the edge of the bartop, his knuckles bleaching under his weight. The other grips the glass in front of him.

“This one used to sit at my bar, let men buy her free drinks, and then she’d work pool into the conversation,” he says, pausing to take a sip. “She’d be all, ‘I’ve never played, maybe you could teach me blah, blah’ batting her pretty little eyes until they’d cave. By the end of the night, she’d have them makin’ bets and melting like putty in her hands.”

You try to hide your embarrassment behind your glass. He’s not wrong. You used to do that. You’re not sure if you did it because you were bored, not like there’s much else to do in this shit town anyway, or because you liked the attention, but whatever the reason you have to admit it was fun.

Besides, most of them deserved it anyway. If losing a few hundred dollars was the biggest price they’d have to pay for flirting with a young college girl while their wives sat at home waiting for them to come home and half satisfy them, well then, you were okay with that. Plus it kept your rent paid.

But that was a long time ago; it’s been ages since you’ve even picked up a pool stick. You just hope that the old idiomatic expression, old habits die hard, rings true for you now.

The alcohol that courses through your veins gives you a sense of confidence to be a bit bold. You prop your elbows on the sticky bartop and gaze up at Joel. “You gonna kick me out then, Joel? Punish me for all of my wrong-doings?” you flirt, testing, teasing. You flint your eyes over your shoulder to look back at Tommy, and can’t help the surge of arousal that you feel when you notice his eyes are already on your backside. You look at Joel and see the clench in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, his pupils blown wide open.

“No, ‘m not gonna kick you out, sweetheart,” he says, filling the glasses once more. Between that and the wine from earlier this afternoon, you’re already feeling quite buzzed, and more than a little reckless. You watch him complete the pours before reaching for your glass.

“But you are gonna have to make it up to me somehow,” he adds. Your pulse doubles and there’s a familiar tug at your navel when you think of what he might mean. Before you have time to respond, he adds “Tell you what, I’ll make you a bet this time. You see Tommy here is a bit of a pool shark himself, and well, baby you already know what I am.” Both of them look at you with dark, hungry eyes. “You beat us, you can have whatever you want,” he adds.

Your skin feels hot, and you suddenly wish you opted for something cooler than a sweater. “And if either of you wins?” you ask.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Joel responds, downing the last of his drink, shooting Tommy a knowing look.

It’s a trap, you know it is.

And yet you agree.

++++

Joel rounds out from behind the bar and leads the way. He walks past the front door and locks it before pulling the plug on the neon open sign that hands in the nearby window. As you three approach the pool table, Tommy picks up a cue stick leaning against the nearby wall – he twirls it in his hands and hands it to you. He picks up another and passes it to Joel, before finally grabbing a third for himself.

“Hope you’re not a sore loser, Darlin’,” Tommy says with a wink.

You playfully roll your eyes. “We’ll see,” you cheekily respond, toying with the end of the cue stick and rubbing chalk on the tip end of it, being a little suggestive with your movements. Both Tommy and Joel notice.

You gather around the table, and Joel sets up the balls. “Alright, break time. You’re up first, sweetheart,” Joel says. You lock eyes with Joel for a moment and fuck, this is gonna be rough. He has you so flustered and you haven’t even started.

You refocus your gaze on the triangular arrangement of balls. You steady your feet and bend over the table, smiling a little when you feel both of them look at your ass. With a swift motion, you strike the cue ball, scattering the rest across the table, sinking a solid and a stripe into two adjacent pockets. Not so bad for being a little rusty, you think.

Joel lets out a low whistle and looks at Tommy. “Shit, brother, we might be in trouble here,” he says. You smile at the compliment, and round around the table so you’re directly in front of Tommy. You look at Joel as you bend over the table, lining yourself up to hit the solid ball with a clear path to the pocket in front of it.

Your ass skirts against the front of Tommy’s crotch and his breath hitches in his throat. As you’re about to take your shot, a large palm ghosts over the curve of your hip, and the sensation causes you to miss the shot. Fuck.

“Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart, you a little distracted?” Tommy coos.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

Joel’s up next. His broad frame rounds around the table, and his shoulder brushes against you as he does. He finds his best angle and deftly lines the cue stick up, his biceps straining under the cloth of his shirt at the new position. You walk over to the line of his shot and bend over on the opposite end of the table, your tits spilling out of the slit in your shirt, effectively distracting him. He takes his shot and misses.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

“Ooo, good effort on that one,” you tell Joel, placating him, “better luck next time,” you conclude with a wink. Joel clears his throat and steps back from the table.

Tommy circles the table next, attempting to find an easy shot. “So I’ve been thinking, we should make this game a bit more interesting,” you say. You watch as Tommy bends over and lines up his turn. He pulls the cue stick back, and just as he’s about to knock it against the ball, you finish “For every shot we miss, we have to strip a piece of clothing." The shock of your words causes Tommy to miss his shot.

“Guess that means you’re starting us off,” you tell Tommy. He shoots you a look. His hands find the buckle of his belt and he undoes it, discarding it on a nearby chair.

The three of you play like that until both Joel and Tommy are clad in nothing but their boxers and socks. You, on the other hand, are still mostly clothed, except for your sweater. Your game started rough, but despite their best efforts to distract you, you’re running the table.

With only one ball left on the table, you walk up to where both of them stand side-by-side. You stand there facing both of them, and they allow their eyes to linger on your chest. Tommy is standing with his hands cupped in front of his crotch, in an attempt to hide his growing bulge. Joel, however, is unreadable as ever.

You lock eyes with him as you snake your arms behind your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. You unhook it, your nipples stiffening in response to air. He casts a quick gaze down to your breasts but doesn’t allow them to linger before he looks at you. His jaw is stiff, and he looks at you like you’re something to eat. Keeping your eyes peered into his, you hold the bra out and give it to Tommy. The moment is so charged. So many things being said with no words, all body language discussion.

You take a few steps back before turning around to grab your cue stick that’s resting against the edge of the pool table. You walk over to the other end of the table and line up the final shot of the game. “So I’ve been thinking about what I want as my prize,” you say, bending down far enough that your tits smush against the felt on the table. “And what’s that, sweetheart?” Joel asks. You let out a little hum of satisfaction, dragging the cue stick back. “Want you both to fuck me, right here on this table,” you add, punctuating your statement with your final shot. You watch with bated breath, releasing it when you see the last ball on the table fall into the pocket.

The three of you stand there in silence, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“You heard her, brother,” Tommy says, advancing towards you. “A bet’s a bet.” His hands find your hips from behind, and he pulls your backside against his firm body, dropping his head to nip at your neck. His lips trail up the side of the sensitive skin there and you let out a little purr as his tongue darts out to lick your pulse.

Your lusty gaze watches as Joel closes the gap between your bodies, and he pauses inches from you. He lifts his palm and uses the backside of it, trailing his knuckles down your cheek, over the soft swell of your chest, until his hand opens up and cups your breast.

It’s all dizzying touch, your vision already a little fuzzy from your buzz, and with Joel’s hand on your body in addition to Tommy’s mouth, you’re the one who’s putty in their hands this time. Joel brings your nipple to a stiff peak using his thumb and forefinger, before he lifts them back up to your face. He hooks two fingers under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Joel says, voice low. You look up at him with doe eyes.

“I know. Now what are you going to do about it?” you taunt.

Tommy stops his affections on your neck and looks up to lock eyes with Joel. He gives a knowing smirk and Tommy reaches his arms around your body and begins to undo the button on your jeans, the zipper following, before he's pulling them down far enough for you to step out of them.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re going to fucking ruin you. Right here on this table, just like you asked,” Joel says.

“Think you can handle that, hmm? Want both of your daddy’s to stuff that pretty little cunt of yours until you can’t think straight?” And fuck, he’s filthy. His words go straight to your core and you feel slick pooling in your panties, your pussy just begging to be touched.

Before giving you time to respond, his large hand comes down to cup your sex.

“Shit, baby. All this for us?” Joel asks. Your eyes close when you feel Tommy continue his assault on your neck. You’re pinned between both of their bodies, their hard cocks pressing up against you from both angles. It’s already so intense. The want, the sheer desire you feel for both of them is almost overwhelming.

“Use your words, Darlin’, we wanna hear it,” Tommy rasps against your skin.

“Ye–yes, all for you both, want you so bad,” you respond with a moan. A groan reverberates through Joel’s chest, and he gives Tommy the same knowing look they’ve shared all night.

Tommy steps back and comes to stand by Joel’s side. “You’re gonna have to earn it. On your knees, baby,” Joel commands.

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, wooden floor against your bare calves. You position yourself in front of both of them and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for one of them to give you further instructions, practically worshipping at the altar of the two gorgeous men above you. Joel reaches down and brings his pointer finger to lift your chin to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. As he releases you, they both nod and you take that as permission to release both of them from the confines of their fabric prison.

You start with Tommy, dipping your fingers beneath the band of his boxers. Instinctively, your eyes find Joel’s and you glance at him as if to ask for permission again. He nods once more, and you drag them down to the middle of Tommy’s thighs. The cock that springs free is fucking delectable; a perfect width and a sizable length. The tip is prominent and there’s a thick vein bulging along the side of it. He’s well endowed, and thank fuck for that. Your hands reach up to grasp the base of it, and your tongue darts out to lick the bead of pre-cum that’s welled at the tip. It’s salty and delicious, leaving you wanting more, more, more.

You pull your mouth away from Tommy and replace it with your hand, slowly and firmly stroking the length of him, his skin smooth like butter under your palm. He starts to protest when he realizes what your next move is. You use your free hand to release Joel from his fabric confines and moan at the sight of his cock. Of course, they both would be blessed below the belt. As delicious as Tommy’s cock is, his older brother has a bit of a lead on him.

Truthfully, you’re not surprised in the slightest. Joel’s cock is well above average in length, but the main attraction is the thickness. Just from the looks of it, your fingers probably wouldn’t meet if you wrapped your fingers around him. His girthiness intimidates you, but you don’t scare easily. You were hungry before, but now you’re positively ravenous. You kitten lick Joel’s tip then fully suck on it, eliciting a throaty groan from him. You smile around it, pleased at yourself for being able to affect him like that.

You want to please the pair of dangerously handsome brothers, but you’re aching for praise from Joel.

“Lay back, baby,” Tommy commands, guiding your hips up to rest against the grain of the pool table. And you do, the texture of the felt rubbing against your back in a soft embrace. Both of their hands find your chest with flat palms, and they drag them down over the expanse of your breasts and stomach. They pause, both of them face-to-face with your cunt. ‘Go ‘head brother, all yours,” Joel says to Tommy.

And shit, the hot mouth that greets your wet core is inviting in more ways than one. His lips lock around your waiting clit and you moan in response to the sensation. As Tommy sucks at your center, his tongue making perfect rotations on your clit, you can’t help but let go.

“Shit, that’s so good – need more,” you beg, and Joel can tell the ask you’re making is for him. He slips his middle finger into your pussy, and your wall clenches around him. The pressure that Tommy applies to your clit is so good, you could probably come just from him, but the added drag of Joel’s finger sawing in and out of you reminds you that you want more, need more, need him.

“Joel, yes – fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg. Tommy continues tracing patterns over your clit and Joel adds a second, then a third finger, which you greedily accept. “More!” you beg, and Joel obliges, slipping a fourth finger into you. “Such a tight fucking cunt, not sure how I could fit another, but happy to stretch you out baby, gotta get you ready f'us,” Joel says. Tommy purrs as he laps up your release, and Joel groans, wishing he was the one at your chef’s table, sampling all of your flavors.

With the way both of them work at you, you feel like a helpless fish, caught on their hook. They dropped the bait and you were quick to bite, now having to pay the price for your decision. The both of them reel in their line, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. They drag you to the water line of your orgasm, and you give up any hope of staying below the shoreline.

Your release washes over you like a wake from a boat, an inevitable. You let the waters fall from your shore before you open your eyes and see both of them, their hard cocks staring you in the eyes. Giving you a moment to come up for air, Joel gently strokes your cheek, an act of tenderness amongst the debauchery taking place.

Tommy gives Joel a knowing look and lifts his right leg to help hoist him onto the pool table. With you spread out underneath both of them, he positions himself right above your head. You all but drool at the sight of him stroking his cock from this vantage point, Tommy looking down at you as if he were seeing his reflection in a pond for the first time. His jaw hangs slack as he works himself from base to tip.

Meanwhile, Joel’s hands find your hips and he deftly tugs you down, so your waiting pussy is just barely hanging over the edge of the pool table. He puts your legs over his brawny forearms, bearing the weight of your lower half, and spreads your legs wide, fully exposing your glistening cunt to him.

You’re almost shivering with how badly you want his cock inside you. He grabs the base of it in one hand, the tip of him barely ghosting against your wet and dripping seam. He collects some of your arousal on him, before using his thumb to drag it over the length of his member.

He knows he could fuck you just like this, lord knows you’re wet enough, and he's done his due diligence to stretch you, but he knows he’s a lot to take. He leans his head down and spits, his saliva falls onto the tip of him, partially covering himself and your clit. He taps the mushroom head of his cock on your clit a few times, a thin string of saliva connecting both of your bodies as he pulls it back.

As much as you would love to focus on Tommy’s length in your face, your sole attention is on Joel, who’s about to fill you to the hilt. “Mouth wide open, baby,” Tommy begs above you, calling you back to his attention. You feign your hardest to listen. You open your jaw wide, and he places the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, dragging the heaviness of it over the expanse of it.

Just as he slides in deeper into your wet and waiting mouth, Joel bunts his hips forward, pressing half of him into your tight hole. It’s so much, and they’re both not even halfway in yet.

They lock eyes with each other and synchronize their thrusts. Joel pulls back and thrusts into your cunt, and Tommy pulls back momentarily before your mouth welcomes him deeper into your throat, so deep in fact that the tip of him bumps up against the back of it, nearly causing you to gag. The corners of your eyes prick with tears, and whether it’s from the stretch of Joel’s cock, or the head of Tommy’s knocking on the back door of your throat, you’ll never know.

“Shit, brother. She’s taking this cock so well, Jesus fuck,” Tommy mutters, thrusting his member in and out of you with a relentless pace, his hands now tangled in your hair like a bird's nest in a tree.

“God damn, you’re telling me. Little cunt is taking me so well,” and his words cause you to clench harder around him.

“Gotta ease up baby, or both of your daddy’s are gonna fill you sooner than we both want to,” Tommy rasps behind a breathless voice, “so good, so fucking good, my god.” You revel in their doubled praise and you can’t help but clench tighter, and Joel notices.

“Ah fuck, brother. I think that’s what she wants. Little slut wants us to pump her full of our cum,” Joel rasps, continuing his relentless pace, dragging his cock in and out of you. You moan in response, your words muffled around the expanse of Tommy, “Fuck, want you to fill me up so bad, both of you.”

“You hear that,” Tommy says in a breathless voice. “You heard her, give the girl what she wants,” Tommy encourages Joel. And fuck. These two are going to be the death of you.

“That what you want, sweetheart? Want Daddy Joel and Daddy Tommy to pump you full of all of our seed, want us to leave you dripping with both of us,” Joel says, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips strong enough to bruise. “Yes, fuck, fill me up, want every last drop of both of my daddy’s cum.”

Joel looks up at Tommy.

“Wouldn’t that be quite the fucking sight? Her all round from your baby, her pretty tits engorged with milk, me fucking dribbling out of her mouth," Tommy says.

"Such a dirty little slut, so good for us,” Tommy praises. Had anyone else uttered those words your skin would crawl, but it’s different coming from the pair of them. You’d let them spread you open wide and fuck you full of their come any day.

“Fuck, I think she likes the thought of that, I can feel her clamping down on me, gripping me so goddamn tight, brother,” Joel rasps. Your lips tighten around Tommy, and they both continue to use you, fucking you like they want, like how you know you need. They abuse both of your holes in their relentless chase for their own orgasm.

“Shit brother, ‘m close, not gonna last much longer,” Tommy groans, and you can tell. His cock stiffens and his pulses become more and more erratic.

“Not yet, need her to come again for us first,” Joel demands, dropping his thumb to your clit, beginning to drag slow and near-perfect circles over your sensitive bud.

“Need you to give us one more. C’mon, you can do it,” Joel continues to egg you on. “You’re so pretty when you come, give us one more, baby. Our perfect girl, let us feel it.”

With that, your whole body convulses and your vision goes white. You can’t help the shakes that follow, your entire body trembling like an earthquake. “Fuckfuckfuck, yesssss,” you cry out, your release taking over you like watercolor paint spilling onto paper, blurring the lines your pleasure has always been confined to – until now.

Joel and Tommy continue their movements, slowing as they reach their own peaks. “So close, baby, gonna come down this pretty fucking throat, gonna be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick load,” Tommy grunts out before he stills and shoots his spend down your throat. It’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

Joel watches as you greedily swallow his brother's load. “Such a good girl. You gonna tell your pretty little cunt to swallow all of me too, hmm? Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full,” he raps. “Gonna plug you so good after ‘m done, not drop is gonna go to waste, baby.”

You gulp, swallowing the rest of Tommy’s spend before answering, “Yes, Joel, p-please fill me up with your come, daddy,” you squawk out, voice hoarse from Tommy’s crusade on your mouth.

“As you wish, pretty girl,” Joel teases, as if he wasn’t the one to come up with the idea.

He thrusts once, twice and he’s filling you with his cum, just as he promised. He stills inside of you, and his forehead comes to rest on your chest. The sticky sweat on his skin makes it tacky, clinging to you in a way that parallels how you’re clinging to this moment. Both of your chests are heaving, ragged breaths coming out almost in sync.

After a few long moments, Joel reluctantly lifts his head up and slowly pulls out, but before any of his load drips out he uses a finger to plug your hole. You gasp and your body jolts from the oversensitivity. “Makin’ sure it sticks, darlin’,” Joel coos in your ear and gently moves the stray strands of hair from your face.

Thoroughly fucked out, you ask the pair of them, “So just out of curiosity, what would you have asked for if either of you had won?”

They both look at each other as if to decide if they want to tell you the truth or not.

“Come back next year for a rematch and we’ll tell you,” Tommy says.

With the way both of them look at you, how could you not?

It’s not even January and yet, here you are – excited for Easter.

What a fucking plot twist that is.

END

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981 @pedrostories

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

Happy New Year!

#joel and tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #threes0me #joel miller x female reader #tommy miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #tlou fanfiction

589 notes · View notes

jaketsparrow · 2 months

Text

SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)

Playlist

*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.”

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.

It was empty.

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.

“Please, call me Jacob.”

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.

“Hey.” He prods.

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement

You need to focus.

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.

“What…? What problem?”

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He inquires.

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.

“Words.” He barked.

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

#jake kiszka #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #jake kiskza x reader #jtk x reader #jake gvf #professor fic #gvf #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka angst #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut

312 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 8 months

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 | kitten braden x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | being a peep show girl can be sort of solitary work, so it's nice to spend the day with miss kitten... and your time together proves to be not only profitable, but a chance to act on a secret crush.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only!!), voyeurism/exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex, girldick <3, penetration/top!kitten, creampie, come eating, titty sucking, brief transphobia (t-slur), friends/coworkers to lovers, lots of filth with some feelings in there too c:

You laid back across the massive velvet ottoman, sighing as you glanced at Kitten— she was laying on her stomach but propped up by her elbows, feet kicked up and crossed as she wrote in her journal with a fluffy-tipped pen.

“What are you writing?” you asked her.

“A letter,” she answered sweetly, tilting her head a bit, “to my friend Charlie.”

“Will you tell her about me?” you asked with a smile.

“I already did,” she answered, “just here— sometimes they have me working with other girls,” she read aloud from the page, “like today, I’m paired up with the biggest slag in the whole place—”

“Fuck off!” you laughed, grabbing one of the nearby pillows and smacking her in the back with it, and she grinned at you. “You didn’t really say that, did you?”

“No, of course,” she rolled her eyes. “I told her that I made a friend. That was what I said about you.”

You felt a little warmth in your cheeks as you sat up, tossing the pillow away— the whole thing was set up to look like a slumber party, so pillows were plentiful. Of course, you’d never actually worn lingerie and heels to a slumber party, nor had you ever had a sexy pillow fight… but you probably would have if you were getting paid then, as you were now.

Speaking of, it was only a moment after Kitten finished her letter and tucked the journal and pen away that the red light flicked on— and you knew you had a customer on the other side of the glass.

“Well, hello Mister,” Kitten greeted with that sultry voice of hers, and you smiled as you knelt on the plushy surface beneath you, turning your body towards her but keeping your eyes on the barely-visible silhouette behind the wall.

“Look at you two,” a deep, rough voice praised as you smiled and moved a little closer to your companion.

“Do you like to watch girls play with each other, Mister?” Kitten asked coyly, running her fingers up your arm delicately.

The gruff voice chuckled, a scratchy sort of sound as it came through the speaker. “You’re a couple of naughty little birds, aren’tcha?”

You giggled as you shook your head, before tenderly laying it on Kitten’s shoulder. “No, sir, we’re very good girls— we like to do exactly as we’re told.”

“Mm, bet ya do,” he replied.

“Care to introduce yourself, Mister?” Kitten asked quietly. “We like to know who we’re talking to.”

“I think you two are the more interesting ones,” he replied. “What are your names?”

“I’m Kitten,” she answered, seeming even more coy as she said that, “and this is my friend Lovely.”

“Lovely indeed,” the man growled. “Just a friend, eh?”

“Well,” you feigned hesitation, looking up at Kitten and biting your lip, “sometimes we… experiment.”

It was all about the innocent act— you weren’t sure why, but it drew them in like moths to a flame: Kitten had always specialised in this, looking and acting like a little naive ingénue before revealing her dirty side. You were used to the more classic stuff… you know, just acting like the most horny, whorish creature who ever lived. You liked this more, especially since you didn’t have to do it alone.

“And today we’re having our special playtime,” Kitten continued, moving in closer to you but keeping a teasing distance between you— for the customer’s benefit, of course, not yours. So why was it having an effect on you? “Would you like to watch?”

“Yeah,” the man said instantly, “wanna see you ladies kiss each other.”

You smiled and sat up to eye-level with her, both of you shutting your eyes and leaning in. The kiss was gentle and sweet, your fingers carefully brushing over her hair and then cupping her face as your lips moved together. It was almost routine now, with how much you’d kissed each other today… almost. You still felt your hips shift slightly, a hot feeling gathering between your legs.

The man groaned in approval through the speaker, but it was Kitten’s teeth brushing over your lip that made a chill run up your spine.

“Fuck, your tits are getting hard, aren’t they?” the man noticed— you hadn’t even realised it, but yes, your nipples were starting to poke up through the lace. “Play with ‘em, Kitten.”

Slender, delicate hands ran up your body, carefully teasing your breasts at first before starting to really properly grope them; you moaned softly at the feeling, deepening the kiss and feeling yourself try to press in a little closer to her. You were already so needy for friction of some kind, and you held on to Kitten’s thighs as you tried not to grip them too hard.

“Betcha wanna put those pretty lips on her tits, don’t ya, Kitten?” the man presumed. The kiss broke quickly, making you almost lean in for more before you came back to reality.

“Yes,” Kitten sighed, “I do— and they’re so beautiful, do you want to see them?”

“‘Course I do, fuck,” the man groaned.

She was slow about it— she was slow about everything. That was the idea, after all— to run the clock as best you could so they’d keep paying for more. Her fingers delicately pulled down the straps of your lingerie, leaving little goosebumps behind as you sighed with anticipation. She gently tugged the top down until your tits were free, and all three of you groaned a little as they were revealed.

She held them again, and you loved the feeling of her touch against your bare skin. Leaning down, she teasingly licked the bud as those big blue eyes blinked up at you sweetly. You wanted to keep holding her gaze, but you couldn’t help your eyes falling shut with pleasure when she swirled her tongue around your nipple, holding tighter onto your breast before closing her lips around it and suckling.

“Fuck,” you breathed, but you smiled— not just from the feeling, but from realizing that your time would’ve run out by now if your customer had only paid once. He must have added more coins to extend the time… teasing works, it seems.

She moved her mouth to the other nipple as you moaned louder, your hands sliding up her legs to run over her sides, her back, even teasing her tits to try to make it fair. You couldn’t help it: you just wanted to touch her everywhere.

“You don’t quite fit in those panties anymore, Miss Kitten,” the man noticed, and she blushed a little as she pulled back from you and bit her lip.

“W-well, I can’t help that,” she defended, and you felt your chest deflate a bit at the sight of how hard she was, the tight lace looking like it was restraining her as the leaking tip bobbed up against her stomach, obscured slightly by the see-through material of her babydoll lingerie.

“Mm, maybe your friend can,” the man suggested. “I bet you know how to use your mouth, don’t you, Lovely?”

You tried not to seem too eager as you reminded yourself internally that you needed to go as slow as you could get away with. You nodded and started to sink your head down into Kitten’s lap, before stopping and looking at the mirror again— almost losing your train of thought when you saw how hot you looked together in the reflection.

“Would you like to see me use it, Mister?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah— show me what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Kitten leaned back slightly, giving you a little more room to reach down and tenderly slide the panties down her pale, smooth thighs. You tried to be real cute about it, just giving one little lick to the tip and giggling proudly when it flexed up towards you for a second. “Oh! Does that feel good, Kitten?”

“Y-yes,” she breathed. You did it again, purring at the moan she let out; she watched you with that pretty mouth fallen slack and smeared with pink gloss, throat bobbing for a second when you met her gaze and even gave her a little wink that your customer couldn’t see from this angle.

You licked all the way from the base to the tip, hoping to cover the whole thing just with your tongue before you even did anything else. You teased her for a while, trying to hear her little mewls and whimpers over the sounds of the man’s moaning through the speaker.

Wrapping your lips around her fat tip, she bit her lip and dropped her head back with a sigh.

“That’s good,” the man groaned proudly, “y’like that, Kitten?”

“Yes,” she panted, starting to push your head down so you would take more, “s-so good…”

“You can stop now,” he decided, and you both hesitated before you pulled away and sat up. Poor Kitten, she looked almost heartbroken at getting cut off like that— you would’ve given anything to make her come…

Sitting up, she reached for your lips— you hoped she would kiss you again, but instead she wiped up where some of your lipstick had smeared, and you felt almost shy again as she did it. Such a sweet gesture had no place in a job like this.

“C’mon, let’s see how wet little Lovely is after that,” the man demanded, and Kitten pulled you into her lap— your back to her chest, her arms wrapping around you— as she slowly spread your legs for you. “Fuck, soaked through the panties, did you?”

“Did you?” Kitten repeated in a surprised whisper just to you, slipping two fingers down to tease you and feel the wet patch on the lace. In your defence, these things weren’t really built for absorption, were they?

“Lemme see that pretty hole, then,” he ordered. “Show me her cunt.”

Kitten gingerly pulled your panties aside, and you caught in the reflection not only how soaked and swollen you really were, but how absolutely wrecked your facial expression had become.

“Shit, s’a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” the voice praised darkly, groaning again when Kitten used her fingers to spread your slick lips and give the customer a better look at your opening.

“Should I rub her a little more, Mister?” Kitten asked sweetly, starting before he’d even agreed to it.

Your back arched up as she ran her finger over your clit, teasing it with gentle circles. You shut your eyes and sighed, losing control of your hips as they rocked into her touch. “R-right there, Kitten,” you pleaded softly, but apparently your customer had other plans.

“Put two fingers inside her,” he ordered Kitten, making you whine in frustration at the separation from where you were most sensitive.

She was careful about it— she had to be, with her nails— but it still felt intense as she pushed her fingers inside you, even just two stretching you quite a bit as you moaned lowly. They moved slowly and deliberately within you, and her heavy breathing began to tickle your neck as your legs almost tried to push together from the sensation.

You were starting to really get into it, moaning and rocking against her as she kissed your neck and played with one of your tits with her free hand. So, of course, he had to stop you again. “I wanna see you fuck her,” the man said suddenly, and your heart skipped for a half-second. It had never gone that far— you didn’t even know if she did that— but you felt your channel clench on her fingers at just the thought.

“Oh, my— you’re very dirty, aren’t you, Mister?” Kitten noticed.

“Just do it,” he insisted, “wanna see how she looks with a cock in her.”

You could hear the coins rolling in the slot, so you obeyed; it ended up with both of you kneeling a bit on the ottoman, her body still slotted behind yours, your heavy eyes transfixed on the reflection— and ostensibly on the man on the other side— as she looked down at where she was about to enter you.

“So hot,” the man praised, but you could barely hear him— you just heard Kitten softly ask you if you were ready. Instead of answering or nodding, you just started to slowly sink down onto her, making both of you moan. “Yeah, fuck,” he went on, and Kitten suddenly grabbed your hip to keep you steady, guiding you just how she needed until your ass was flush against her lap and your back was pressed to her chest.

“Oh,” you breathed, melting slightly against her as you both adjusted to the feeling. Slowly, she started to move— and you moved with her, less like thrusting and more like writhing. It was sensual, it was sexy; it was driving you fucking crazy.

She ran her tongue along the edge of your ear as she grinded against you, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. “Fuck, Kitten,” you mumbled under your breath, arching your back as her hand slipped down over the front of your body, reaching between your legs to start teasing your clit.

“Yeah, like that,” the man agreed, breathing heavily himself. “So fuckin’ dirty…”

You moved together in perfect harmony, her body seeming to fit so naturally against yours— and inside it. She moaned softly by your ear, a little deeper than you were used to hearing it, and you shuddered with delight as you imagined that was how her real pleasure sounded.

“Feels good, does it, Lovely?” he prompted, his grin obvious in his voice.

“Yes,” you moaned loudly, “yes, so good…”

You were so sensitive from being essentially teased all day, from the joy of pleasing her and the effortless way she played with your body like her toy. Still, it was a little embarrassing how quickly you became overwhelmed with the feeling.

She moved a little faster, egging on your needy moans and holding on tighter to your hips as she filled you just right. “Oh, fuck,” you yelped, feeling the pressure start to build as you tried your best to push back against her thrusts and get her that much deeper.

“You like how she fucks you, eh?” the man taunted.

“Yes! Yes, she’s amazing,” you panted, biting your lip as you fought the urge to beg Kitten for more.

“Never been fucked by a tranny before, have ya?” the man asked with a rough laugh.

You reached back behind your own head to hold onto the back of Kitten’s neck, pulling her closer so you could lean in to whisper in her ear— the ear your hidden watcher couldn’t see. “Don’t listen to him, Kit,” you breathed, “you’re so fucking beautiful. I’m so close.”

She turned her head and kissed you, sloppy and needy with heavy breaths passing between your lips to hers and back; it was all getting blurry and sweaty and that feeling just kept getting heavier and sharper as you rocked your hips back against hers. Every movement pushed you just that much closer—

“Fuck, I’m out of coins!” you heard the voice announce, but you were barely paying attention— until the red light suddenly went off. Then, both of you stopped, panting and breaking away from the kiss to look up at the light. You waited a moment to see if it would turn back on, only to glance at each other and begin to laugh as you realised you weren’t going to be hearing from your visitor again.

“We can stop,” Kitten noticed— but she didn’t move away, she only looked at your eyes, and you saw a hint of nervousness in hers.

“I don’t wanna stop,” you admitted in a whisper.

“Me either,” she smiled, speaking under her breath as one of her hands came up to hold your face sweetly. “I don’t ever want to stop.”

You kissed her, and the whole thing felt different without anyone watching. Sweeter, softer— you loved feeling her smile against you, and you smiled back, until she started to move again and your lips dropped to a moan. “Oh, Kitten,” you breathed, writhing against her as her hands moved all over you, touching anywhere they could reach. She pet and teased your thighs with one hand, pinching a hard nipple with the other, until you were shaking with desperation.

“You’re easy to please,” she noticed with a teasing laugh, trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder, and you groaned through a grin.

“Easier when you’ve had me worked up all day,” you admitted. “Kissing and touching you for hours but never getting to come… you should see me when I get home from work, Kit, I can’t stop touching myself— beat my poor clit all night, soak the sheets—”

“Poor thing,” she clicked her tongue at you, and you shivered again.

“You never got naughty after work?” you pressed.

“I didn’t say that,” she mumbled with a smirk, and you laughed softly. “I thought about you… about how soft your lips are… your sweet tongue…”

“I wanted to taste you, Kit,” you blurted out, excited that she might have had the same fantasy. “Fuck, I wanted someone to tell us to do it today— to make me put my mouth on you. I wanted it so bad—”

“It felt better than I imagined it,” she admitted.

“God, I wasn’t— I didn’t even do it like I wanted,” you admitted with a groan. “I wanted so much more…”

“Show me,” she begged— it almost reminded you of those men you had to listen to all day, except unimaginably perfect.

You sat up and spun around in a moment, pushing her down onto the ottoman with a sigh. She smiled at your eagerness, only to moan when you instantly dove down and licked her again— but harder and faster this time, with a wide tongue and a dark stare up at her.

“O-oh, darling,” she praised, but could only choke on a moan when you wrapped your mouth around her and sunk down in one quick motion. Yes, you choked, but you wanted to— you wanted as much of her as you could get, any way you could get it. “Oh!”

You hummed happily as you sucked hard and bobbed fast, too desperate for any teasing now.

“You are a dirty girl,” she cooed, holding onto your hair as you stroked what your lips couldn’t reach and did your best to pleasure her every way you knew how. “You can taste yourself, can’t you?”

You hummed again, agreement this time, and she tightened her grip on your hair.

You could only take a few more minutes of that— your poor cunt was dripping, flexing on nothing, desperate to be filled again. “Fuck, I need you,” you explained as you pulled away and climbed up to straddle her lap, that grip on her now guiding the swollen head to your entrance. She looked up at you with the slightest smirk around her open mouth, and you could tell she was aching for you, too.

Sinking down, you both moaned loudly— and you almost whimpered when she went even deeper than she had before. Balancing your hands on her chest, you tried to adjust to it as quickly as possible because you had absolutely burned through all your patience already.

When you were ready to move, the pace seemed to pick up right away: in a moment, you were a blur on her, lifting yourself over and over as each stroke created the perfect friction against your sensitive walls. You rode her hard and fast, desperate for release, letting your head fall back at the feeling. “Oh, Kitten— y-you feel so good—”

“You too, dear,” she breathed, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly— your fingers interlaced with hers, and you held onto them for balance as you bounced on her. “You too— so warm inside…”

“Fuck, fuck!” you whined. “Wh-what if someone puts in a coin now,” you panted, “and sees us doing this?”

“Then they’ll probably blow in their britches,” she suggested with a grin, and you laughed before another movement forced her tip right up against your spot, making you gasp again.

“G-god, don’t make me laugh, Kitten— I’m so close, I’m so fucking close—”

“I know,” she breathed, “I know— I can feel your little pussy, squeezin’ me—”

“Fuck,” you whined.

“What if we came together, darling?” she suggested as she panted under you. “Wouldn’t it be filthy, if I came inside you?”

“O-oh, fuck, perfect,” you moaned, “it would be perfect, Kit— please, please—”

“Yes,” she hissed, holding your hands tighter. “Let’s see you come, darling— no faking it like you do for the boys.”

“Gonna come,” you promised, nodding fervently as you felt yourself moving (inside and out) completely on instinct.

It made you shake all over, it made you bite down on your lip and dig your nails into her hands; it was sharp and hot and you had never felt anything quite like it… probably because you’d never had the patience for being on the edge for so long. You didn’t want to be too loud, not only to avoid getting caught but to make sure you could hear her and the precious way she moaned as she spilled inside you, her hips shakily bucking up into you when your own strength failed.

Slowly, it came to a shaky and shivery stop, and you blinked your eyes open to find the world a little blurrier, but sweeter, than it was before.

You sunk down, still holding her hands and sliding them upward as you brought your face to hers, smiling and almost losing yourself in her eyes. She kissed you— slow, soft, both of you still catching your breath— and hummed in delight as you relaxed on top of her.

“That was perfect,” she whispered to you, and you moaned quietly in agreement before breaking the kiss to lay your head down beside hers on the velvet. She turned her face to keep looking at you, and you must have been that way for one of those brief-yet-infinite moments, just looking at each other and trying to soothe your hearts as they raced.

“We should clean up,” you finally sighed, “before someone sees us…”

“How will we explain all that come leaking out of your pretty hole, hm?” she asked with a proud smile, making you bite your lip.

“Maybe I’ll just be very wet for our next customer,” you laughed, barely finding the strength— mental or physical— to let go of her hands and roll off of her onto your back.

You both pulled yourself together as best you could— gone soft now, she tucked herself between her legs again and slipped her panties back up, and you found your discarded lingerie top laying off the side to put back on.

You were about to reapply your lipstick when she stopped you, gently laying her hand on yours, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded softly, “before someone puts a coin in—”

You jumped forward and pressed your lips to hers, tossing the lipstick aside; she hummed against you and pulled you closer, giggling into the kiss in the most adorable way.

Neither of you noticed the light turning on, but you both jumped slightly when another man’s voice— a little higher-pitched and smoother than the last— came over the speaker. “My my,” he purred, both of you breaking away and looking at your reflection in the glass. “Looks like you two started without me.”

“We couldn’t help it,” you panted out as you draped your arms around Kitten, giving the man on the other side a pitiful-yet-pleading sort of look. “We’re just so worked up, is all… do you know that feeling?”

This was your wheelhouse— needy, horny, raunchy. Much more natural for you than Kitten’s innocent style; but she did just fine with this one, too, leaning in to nibble at your ear as she stroked your back. “Don’t stop on my account,” the man offered, “you two look perfect together.”

“We do,” Kitten agreed in a whisper as you both saw your reflection, before holding your face tenderly and turning it to hers, kissing you harder this time. So much for the teasing, soft kisses you’d been trading all day— you were both smiling and panting into it, falling all over each other until she was leaning back and you were between her legs, running your fingers over her hips and chest until she moaned for you.

“You do more than just kiss, don't you?" the man asked, and you grinned against Kitten's sweet lips as you nodded.

"We do whatever you want," you promised, glancing to the side at him— or, where he would be, if you could see him.

"Shit, almost out of time," he noticed, and you both grinned at the sound of more coins rolling in.

Kitten's hand slipped down the front of your body, into your panties, as she purred sweetly at you. "Oh, right there," you moaned— certainly overdoing it for the benefit of your watcher, but not entirely lying about how good it felt.

Just when she was doing exactly what you needed her too, and getting you all needy again in the process, she pulled her hand away and smirked as you whined softly.

“She’s so wet,” Kitten informed the man with a purr. “See how she’s soaked my fingers?”

She held up the manicured hand, a mix of your come and hers dripping down her fingers as you heard a happy moan from the man on the other side. “Wily minx,” he scolded you playfully.

“Why don’t you clean these off for me, Lovely?” Kitten instructed you, tilting her chin up a bit and watching you as she brought the fingers to your lips and watched you lick them slowly. You hummed at the taste, loving having a secret with her while this man watched, none the wiser. You fluttered your eyes shut as you started to suck them properly, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the digits inside your mouth.

"So naughty," the man praised, "can't wait to see all you girls can do."

More coins, more time; you gave Kitten a knowing look, and her expression in return was understandably a little weary and yet obviously excited. You both knew you had a long night ahead of you, and your heart was already fluttering with excitement. Not just your heart, of course, but your heart most of all.

#kitten braden x reader #kitten braden smut #patricia braden x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

1K notes · View notes

whimsyfinny · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2803

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful. Charlie practically threw my sad lone duffle bag through the front door and left before I could give her a piece of my mind for just leaving me here. I helped Sam put away the groceries he’d bought, emphasising that ‘we don’t put things down, we put them away’, otherwise we end up living in filth again. I also cleared some space around the study area that seems to be the centre of the bunker, and much to my dismay, threw out even more take-out boxes and beer bottles. I arranged all of the research that had been left on the desk in a mess, organising it into piles of read and unread; or at least what looked read and unread to me. The whole time Dean sat at this very desk and was watching cartoons on Sam’s laptop whilst his brother was in the shower, letting me do all the dirty work as he just sat there and relaxed. When I was finally done, I slumped down in the chair opposite him and slid all of the neat stacks of research towards myself. Dean looked up at me, his relaxed ‘cartoon-watching’ expression fading slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked. I looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What do you think? I’m catching up on what you guys have been researching.”

He closed the laptop and folded his arms across his chest, the cotton of his flannel pulling tight over his large biceps.

“That’s such a waste of time.”

“And why, pray tell, is it such a waste of time Dean?”

“It’ll take you days, maybe weeks to catch up on what we know - either me or Sam can give you a rundown on what’s most important in an hour,” his tone was very matter-of-fact, like he didn’t want to be argued with. I sighed, crossing my arms on the table in front of me, leaning forwards.

“That’s great, you can still do that, but the more clued up I am as to what is going on then the more chance we have of finding what you need,” I paused for a second, a thought flashing across my mind. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me why I’m here, other than to ‘do research’. What are you looking for that has you so stumped?” Dean sucked a breath in through teeth, shifting slightly in his chair.

“The Fist Blade,” his tone had a thickness to it that I couldn’t place.

“The First Blade? As in Cain and Abel? THAT First Blade? ”

“Bingo.”

“But surely that’s long gone by now, it’s been two millennia at least. Nothing can last that long…can it?” I asked almost rhetorically. Dean shrugged.

“That’s what we want to know too,” his eyes flicked up and caught mine, his gaze burning into mine for only a moment with such intensity I felt my breath catch in my chest. The dark purple bruising on his face around his eyes made that forest green even more vibrant and alluring. There was a pause - for some reason I couldn’t look away and I had to catch myself before glancing at his bruised lips, which I knew already were devilishly charming. Right as I gave in to temptation and saw the corner of Deans poor split lip twitch into a smirk, Sam saved the day by striding in, towel-drying his hair. He paused, looked at us and frowned quizzically, almost like he was more surprised that we weren’t throwing furniture at each other. He didn’t say anything on that topic though, because as he looked around he noticed I’d cleaned. Again.

“(Y/n) you really have to stop cleaning up our mess,” he smiled, hanging his towel on the back of his chair as he took a seat next to me, his long legs grazing mine slightly.

“Sam just say ‘thank you’,” I tilted my head up to him - he was still enormous even when he was sitting down. He laughed slightly, almost bashfully as he looked down for a second at his twiddling thumbs before locking his eyes with mine again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I returned his smile at last, holding it for a few seconds before continuing: “So Dean has just been explaining to me what you’re looking for. Surely the First Blade is long gone by now? How would it have survived this long, and still be functional - not just some pile of dust?” Sam huffed out an already exasperated breath, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, much like how Dean was sitting.

“I have no idea, at this point I feel like we’re grasping at air,” we all mumbled in agreement, suddenly sitting in a solemn sort of silence. It was short lived though as Sam leant forwards, pushing his damp hair from his eyes and trying to lighten the mood.

“Guys why don’t we just leave it for a few hours and get something for dinner? It’s getting late and we should really eat.” Dean suddenly sprang forwards, sitting up straight and lacing his fingers together on the desk with a grin on his stupid face.

“Good idea Sammy - I can’t wait to try her cooking. If she can cook half as well as she cleans then we’re in for a treat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I jumped up, grasping the first thing I could find (a file on God knows what) and smacked him across the face with it. Deans head turned with the force - albeit not much - and another stupid grin crept onto his stupid lips. He chuckled his deep, chesty laugh and tenderly touched his already sore face, wincing slightly.

“Just for a second I forgot you hated my guts,” he drawled, rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t do yourself any favours by talking to me like that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a hot head you’d be able to take a joke.”

“A joke? You call that a joke? Jokes are supposed to be funny, Dean, there wasn’t even a punchline,” I had started to raise my voice slightly and he gave me an extremely puzzled look.

“Hold the fucking phone - are you mad at me because I ‘insulted’ you or are you mad that there was no punchline?”

“I’m mad at YOU, because you’re just trying to rub me up the wrong way on purpose!”

There was a pause, and a smirk and a twinkle in Deans eye.

“Well I’m sure if you ask Sam nicely he’ll rub you up the right way.”

“DEAN!” Sam and I both cut in at the same time and when I glanced at him I noticed a faint pink glow on his cheeks.

“What?” He threw his hands up, “Sam you’ve been acting like a schoolgirl around her since we met her at the diner, always jumping to her aid first. Just admit you have a crush ok?” Dean gave his younger brother an ‘all knowing look’ as Sam covered his face.

“Dean I’m going to pretend you never said any of that and just move on,” Sam turned to me and said in a hushed tone “I’m so sorry,” before looking back at his brother, who was now reaching for his jacket. “And where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“To get dinner, that’s what this whole conversation escalated from right? About what we were going to eat? Well I’m going to get takeout, what do you both want?” Dean said, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Dean sit down,” I chimed in, my voice sterner than I intended.

“What?”

“Just sit the fuck down. Both of you. Carry on researching and making yourself useful,” I said, moving away from the table.

“Why?” Sam did as he was told but Dean looked at me like I’d asked him to eat tofu.

“Because I’m not letting you boys eat yourself to death with E numbers and MSG. I’ll cook something,” and as the words left my mouth I saw Deans eyebrows raise so much I thought they might push his hairline back. Before he could get a single word out Sam spoke on behalf of both of them:

“If you’re really ok doing that, (Y/n), you’ve already done so much today-”

“Sam it’s fine, I really don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking, and since Bobby’s been gone I’ve had no one to cook for. So yeah it’s ok,” I smiled at him reassuringly, and he smiled back.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” he paused, looking to his older brother who had removed his jacket and was taking a seat again, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because Dean-”

“Really Sam, I’m fine with it. I was planning to cook even before the jackass opened his trap.” The younger Winchester gave me a final ‘ok’ before I spun on my heel and walked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to give the older Winchester a second glance.

I guess it’s time to find out what these boys have lurking in their pantry.

I’d been cooking for maybe half an hour when I was finally done and called the boys to the kitchen. I set three places at the table, and placed down three beers and enough cutlery for all of us, alongside various condiments they might want. I was just serving up as they walked in, muttering to themselves about something they’d researched. As they both sat down, I placed two plates in front of them and watched their faces light up.

“STEAK!” They both had wide grins as they picked up their cutlery and immediately dug in.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing special. Plus the fries were frozen and the mac ‘n’ cheese was instant,” I said, placing down my own plate and taking a seat between them.

“Don’t care, ‘s home cooked,” Dean said with a mouthful of food, reaching for his beer. Sam just nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well ok then,” I smiled to myself, I guess a little happy that they were happy. And for once that Dean had nothing smart to say. Yet.

Dinner was pretty uneventful - and short - as the boys practically inhaled their food. When their plates were empty they just sat at the table in a happy silence, rubbing their full bellies.

“Considering you just used what we already had and didn’t go shopping for anything, that was fucking beautiful,” Dean said, stifling a burp. I looked at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thanks Dean,” I half smiled down at him as I stood to collect their plates. He put his hand out to stop me, taking them from my grasp and pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to sit. He returned the half smile, standing up.

“No problem. Now let me do this, you’ve done enough for us today already. Take a break,” his voice was low and strangely kind towards me, and I was almost lost for words as I felt his firm chest brush against my arm as he took the plates from me, his body heat reaching my skin through the fabric. Was he being serious, or just leading up to be a dick in a rather roundabout way? Who knows. But I should try to appreciate the moment at least.

Dean washed up whilst Sam dried everything and put it all away, and I sat sipping my beer as they bustled about for a few minutes. Once they were done, Sam took his seat back at the table and Dean grabbed the tea towel, roughly wiping the surfaces and flinging it over his shoulder when he was done.

“And now it’s pie time,” he said suddenly, sparks of joy in his voice. I grinned.

“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked. Dean turned to look at me like I’d asked him to shoot a puppy, and Sam muttered an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“Can you have some?” Dean repeated my request back to me, those sparks of joy in his voice no longer there.

“Yeah…please? I saw it in the fridge earlier, there’s definitely enough to share,” I stated, starting to feel like I was missing something here. Sam cleared his throat and I turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face.

“Uhhh…(Y/n), Dean doesn’t share his pie. Not even with me.” Dean slammed the fridge door closed, said pie now in hand.

“You’re Goddamn right. The pies mine, now back off,” he gave me a warning look as he grabbed a fork and sat back down next to me again.

“Fuck me; really? What are you, a child? Who the fuck won’t share a pie made for four people?” I asked, getting exasperated with Deans bullshit. I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.

“Me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys, I’m gonna go and get some sleep - I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks for dinner (Y/n), it was great,” Sam stood and pinched the bridge of his nose, not being inconspicuous at all about being done with bickering between Dean and I. He smiled softly at me before he left, patting my shoulder as I said a quiet ‘sleep well’ to him before he exited the room. Then it just left me and Dean. Again.

“Just one slice,” I asked abruptly, watching him shovel pastry into his face.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Dean I made you dinner and tidied your shit, the least you can do is give me a slice,” I slid forward in my chair, inching closer to him in a new attempt to get him to share.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” I threw my hands up before leaning forwards a little more so I was now close enough to smell him. And annoyingly he smelt divine - his cologne mixed with the scent of old leather and woodsmoke, perhaps a little gunpowder too. I breathed in, trying to get to the sweet smell of the desert he had, but all I could smell was him. I tried to ignore it. He was still a douchebag.

“One bite?” He sighed and turned to look at me, noses almost touching as I flinched back, not realising how much I’d shuffled towards him. He sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Ok, just one bite,” he said as I did a very quiet squeal of delight. I reached for the fork in his hand but he held it up out of my reach, shaking his head.

“No. Not you.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Open.”

“What are you-”

“Open your mouth,” he said sternly, those evergreen eyes finding mine.

“Wait wha-”

“Open your Goddamn mouth (Y/n)” he said, his voice turning gravelly as I felt his breath on my face. I felt heat start to flood my cheeks and I couldn’t tell what emotion it was coming from, as I had started to feel a lot of things all at once. What made my head spin a little though was hearing my name fall from his lips - he hadn’t said it before, at least not to my face. And I hated myself for liking how it sounded. I didn’t say anything to him as I eventually did as I was told; opening my mouth and instinctively sticking out my tongue a little. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I looked at him - the concentration on his face as he scooped up an acceptable amount of pie to part with was amusing to say the least. Happy with my tiny portion, he turned to me and put the fork on my tongue, to which I closed my lips around as he slowly pulled it from my mouth, leaving the amazingly sweet desert behind. With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t help but hum in delight, savouring every flavour before I swallowed it down. Slowly opening my eyes again, I wasn’t expecting to see Dean still watching me, lips slightly parted as his gaze flickered between my eyes and my sticky lips, which I was now licking clean. He seemed to catch himself quickly though, immediately scooping up more pie for himself and cramming it into his own mouth. I sat back in my chair, picking up my beer and draining the bottle.

“Next time you buy a pie, Winchester,” I started, standing and tossing the bottle in the bin, “buy one for me so we don’t have this problem again.” He looked up at me just as I turned to leave.

“No promises,” his lip quirked slightly - so slightly that I wondered if he’d even smirked at all. I scoffed, giving him one last look as I rolled my eyes before I left the room to continue researching.

“Fuck you.”

——————————————————————

Taglist: @creative-writing92 @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lanassmarty @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hell0-ki11y111 @hobby27 @lilcuutiee @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @viridiesa @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @adorablenerdcat

some of the tags haven’t worked, so please check your settings!

——————————————————————

Up Next:

Chapter 4

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut

223 notes · View notes

hearts4hughes · 9 months

Text

hits different | trevor zegras

(trevor zegras x fem! reader)

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my notes forever, and i’ve just managed to finish it😭 it took wayyyy too long, but i’m proud of this!

warnings: intoxication, alcohol, angst, light swearing

the pulsating bass reverberates through your body as you stand at the bar, drink in hand, trying to wash your hands of the memories of a love gone wrong. your mind drifts to the mess that trevor made of you and the hurtful images that linger in your thoughts.

you wondered if he had already moved on. if he was cooking for another girl at his apartment, or if he had strolled through the streets of anaheim with her hand in hand. had he forgotten about you? three years of love washed down the drain like dirt and filth as he confided in another woman with his love. just the mere thought sends waves of nausea through your body.

it didn’t make sense. you thought breaking up with him was the right decision, but since then, all you’ve felt was pure heartbreak.

it all started with the duck’s bad season. he was frustrated and stressed. he thought he was the problem- even though he wasn’t- and he went into an emotional hole. at the time, you didn’t understand what was happening. you thought he fell out of love with you, so as hard as it was, you broke up with him. the second the words flew off your tongue, he broke down- sobbing, yelling, begging, anything that would help you stay.

you can't help but reflect on how you used to move on so easily, like switching out partners and escaping town, but everything feels different now. the bars you visit play songs that remind you of what once was, and it hurts like nothing you've experienced before.

“y/n,” julia calls out, snapping you back into reality, “you have to stop thinking of him, it’s not going to help.” her hand rubs comfortingly up and down your back. you look at her, your face completely blank of emotion. it’s easier said than done to forget about someone who preoccupied so much of your time, and the alcohol in your system isn’t helping.

“i know, i just,” you stammer, “i just can’t escape him. it’s like he’s haunting me. everywhere i look i’m reminded of the memories we made.” she looks at you with pity.

“love is a lie, babe. you know this already.” she says- the same thing she’s been telling you since forever. “remember when you broke up with aaron?” she asks and you nod in response. “you thought he was the one and that you’d never ever move on, but after a little bit you did. you just need to give it time and you’ll get over him.”

whining, you grab your shot, throwing your head back and downing it. your nose scrunched as the alcohol burned down your throat. “but what if i don’t want to get over him, jul? i don’t want to forget about him. i just want to be with him, i just want trevor.” your words were slurred- almost incoherent.

people around you began to stare and watch the unfolding scene. protectively, julia brought you into a hug, shielding your face from everyone before they saw your tears. “let’s get you home, honey.” she cooed, wrapping her arm around your waist and helping you out of your seat.

julia brought you home, making sure you got into your house safely before driving away. you swung the front door open and stumbled into your apartment. the digital clock on the wall read 2:20am. you ripped off your heels, discarding them somewhere in your living room, and walking into your bedroom. your hair was a frizzy mess, lipstick smudged, mascara smeared everywhere, but you could care less.

you find yourself alone in your room, surrounded by memories of the past, with one particular item catching your eye- trevor’s hat. it sits on a shelf, seemingly untouched since the day you parted ways. the sight of it evokes a rush of bittersweet emotions, and you can't help but pick it up, feeling its fabric against your fingertips. the hat holds a piece of him, a piece of the love you once shared, and the weight of the memories is overwhelming.

as you hold the hat in your hands, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. memories of your time together flood your mind – the laughter, the inside jokes, the intimate moments shared under that very hat. you miss him, and the feeling intensifies with each passing day. the warmth and comfort that his presence once brought into your life are now a distant memory.

you bring the hat close to your chest, hugging it tightly as if it was him. the scent of his cologne, faint but still lingering, brings you back to those tender moments when he would embrace you, and your heart aches.

with each tear that falls, you let yourself feel the grief, the longing, and the emptiness that comes with a wound that hasn’t completely healed. you find yourself whispering his name into the fabric, wishing he were there, holding you.

suddenly, you hear a key turning in the door down the hallway. is it him? is it trevor? or has julia come to take you away from your apartment and the suffocating reminders of him?

the door closes and you hear footsteps approaching your room. the footsteps become louder as the mystery person gets closer. you close your eyes, not bothered to know who it is; however, a small part of you hopes, even wishes that it’s him.

“love?” he calls out, causing your eyes to shoot open. you see him standing in the doorway- a blurry version of him due to the alcohol and crying. a frown adorns his lips as he looks down at you. your tear stained face and bloodshot eyes give him a hint of what you were just doing. “oh y/n,” he coos, making his way over to you and repositioning you into his lap.

his arms snake around your body, pulling you close to his chest. you open your mouth to say something, but the words get caught in your throat. he presses reassuring kisses to the top of your head as you cry into his embrace.

"i’m so sorry, y/n," he whispers, his voice filled with remorse. "i messed up, and i’ve been a mess ever since you left." you try to find the right words to say, but your emotions are too overwhelming, your heart too raw. instead, you bury your face in his chest, holding on to him as if he might slip away again.

"fuck, i thought you moved on," you manage to say through your tears, your voice shaking. "all i could imagine was you with another girl, trev.”

he sights, gently rubbing your back. "no, love, there hasn't been anyone else. i’ve been miserable without you. you were always the one."

“i thought you had fallen out of love with me, that’s why i broke up with you.” your voice trembles with hurt as he feels a pang of guilt in his heart.

his expression softens, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "i was going through a rough time, and I didn't know how to handle it. i thought i was the problem, and i didn't want to bother you with my struggles. i never meant to hurt you." you move your head away from his body, staring deeply into his eyes. he’s been crying too. in that moment, you realize that he's hurting too, and maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for healing and forgiveness.

"i miss you, trevor," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "my friends try to take me out to have fun and get drunk, but i always end up slurring your name until someone puts me in a car. they’re going to stop inviting me soon.” you joke- a coping mechanism you’ve had since you were young.

he lets out a small laugh, bringing his hand up to wipe away stray tears, “i’m here now," he replies, "and i want to try again, to make things right. i love you, and my life is a fucking wreck without you."

“i love you too,” your voice is soft and sincere. a smile graces his lips and for the first time since forever, your lips connect with his, reviving what you thought was gone.

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#anaheim ducks #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras imagine #hockey blurb #nhl imagine #hockey boys #nhl imagines

565 notes · View notes

peterspinkrobe · 9 months

Text

Miguel, Noir, Peter B x A new spider recruit (F)

Rating/Tags: M for MATURE. 18+. Adult content henceforth. 🔞Three p’s and one v. P in V. Fellatio. Some spanks. Assplay (no anal penetration). Voyeurism. Light bondage. Cunnilingus. Overstimulation (it’s 3 v 1 y’all idk what else is expected). Bodily fluids. Dirty talk makes up most of the dialogue. The dudes do some stuff too. ❤️ Aftercare ❤️ one shot

A/N: I got the prompt from this tweet and wanted to give back to the artist who requested it. There is Spanish in this fic - the artist helped me with the translations soooo much as well and I am forever grateful.😭 English translations at the end. This is my first smut piece, okay? So go easy on me. There is a smidge of plot if you’re really looking for it - I know I put it somewhere around here…

Summary: New recruit for the Spider Society finds herself in a sticky situation with three mentor spideys.

Word Count: 4,660

I’m gonna stfu now and let you read some filth. As always, let me know what you think and thanks for reading.

A dim, neon orange glow emitted from various screens in the large office. Sounds of connecting flesh and obscenities bounce off the walls and echo towards the high ceilings. The new recruit for the elite Spider Society found herself tangled in a particularly intense training that definitely wasn’t in the recruit handbook.

This particular lady spider, from her own universe, traveled through space and time to become a better protector of her neighborhood. She wasn’t sure how these exercises could possibly translate into her line of work saving lives, but she knew exactly how she’d gotten into this position. Well, one of many she’d already been put into.

It was her silly quips. The downfall of most in the Spider Society. The new spider showed a lot of progress in the short time they’d been recruited and had been tasked to go on a mission with the big boys.

It was easy work, the more matured spiders swinging and kicking ass effortlessly. Their personalities shown through in their fighting styles

Peter was loud about it. Of course. Screaming war cries and hitting hard, but holding back. Using insults to hit ‘em where it really hurts a villain: their ego. Miguel seemed cat-like, pouncing and clawing. An occasional roar of frustration would burst through his gritted fangs. Noir was stealthy, and silently snuck up on unsuspecting suspects. His dialect from past times confused the new spider more than Miguel’s Spanish, but it sounded ‘snazzy’ either way.

After wrapping up the mission, the four of them exchanged normal post-fight banter. It was one phrase that made the men stop in their attacks:

I could take all three of you at once.

She’d inadvertently added a qualification to her spoken resume and they were putting it to the test.

The room spun around the dizzy spider trying to steady herself on the large couch cushions. It was in vain, though, for she wasn't going anywhere the hands on her body didn’t make her go. She was stuffed and didn’t think she could hold anything else inside her. Even air. She resorted to the shallow gasps that her body involuntarily released in brief moments of reprieve and breathing through her nose when possible. She moans a string of different names barely recognizable through the mumbling and spit coming out her mouth. Not to mention Peter B’s cock slipping between her lips, a lazy, languid pump into her mouth as his hand caresses her hair. He’d pull out when she tapped on his thigh twice or he wanted to see the strands of saliva droop from his swollen tip connecting to her puffy lips.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice is sweet in juxtaposition to their lewd position, “look at me”. His other hand cupped her chin and pulled her face to look up at him. His slender fingers moving to the side of her face, rubbing his thumb on her cheek. His baby blues watching as her face pushes into his palm from the force behind her.

“Our little spider looks so good like this, doesn’t she?” Peter B was a talker in bed. Duh. The man was a talker in general. His words, no matter how filthy, came out casual and playful. “Taking the both of us so well in her pretty holes.” The vulgarity mixed with the free and easy tone made her pussy squeeze around Miguel’s cock, causing a quick strike on her bent over ass. The stinging cheek was immediately pawed by his large hands.

“Mhmm..” Miguel grunted, not much for words in the bedroom. His sexual language involved less talking and more touching, spanking, and grabbing. “Está apretadito…riquísimo…” When he did speak, he slipped into his native tongue because his mind slipped too. No time for translation as he drove himself into her, hands grabbing her hips. “me vuelves loco” he panted.

His large hands grabbed her ass, making her moan again up at Peter. He thumbs her wet folds and grips tightly - watching as she stretched out on his thick dick with each thrust of his hips. One of his thumbs ghosts across her other puckered hole, rubbing her own slick across the tight entrance.

“Te voy a comer ese culo.” Before she can form any sort of protest, Miguel pulls out without warning. The sudden emptiness made her clench on air and push back against him as a complaint. His hands never left her body and he let her push herself back onto his tongue. She cried out in surprise and pleasure as Miguel hardened his tongue and licked into her dripping pussy. The tongue was quickly replaced by two calloused fingers that pumped and spread inside her already fucked out cunt. His lips latched around the tight pucker of her ass, tongue swirling. Her breathing ragged as the little spider moaned against the bushel of hair above Peter’s still long cock. All she could do was press her face against his belly and arch her back.

“Ooooh, no, you don’t get to have all the fun, Miggy.” Peter chuckled, fucking chuckled down at her as he continued petting her hair. He slipped his thumb into her mouth and he smiled sweetly when she wrapped her lips around the finger. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out her throat as she slobbered on his inquisitive thumb that rubbed the inside of her cheek.

The mouth attached to her released only to growl against her sticky flesh, “Shut up, Peter.”

The giggle upset Miguel; here he was eating ass and she was paying more attention to the skinny nerd at her front. He added another finger and grazed his sharp teeth against the sensitive skin. Shivers shot up her spine and she rolled her eyes in pleasure and annoyance.

Only one coherent thought formed in her hazed mind: the grown ass man we’re even competitive in the bedroom.

Peter didn’t shut up.

“Hey, Noir,” Peter casually tossed the words to the side but kept his gaze on the flushed face and closed eyes that pressed against him. His heavy lidded gaze grazed along the curvy body beneath him as the spider in training rode Miguel’s tongue. He brushed away sweaty strands stuck to her forehead so he could see her pretty lashes. “You ever gonna get in on this? Or are you just going to keep watching from over there?”

Shame had almost escaped the woman stuck between getting rocked and a hard place. She’d taken the tip of the chatterbox’s cock back into her mouth and that silenced him momentarily.

She looked over at the black-clad figure she’d almost forgotten with her lips pouting over the redden head of his friend. He hadn’t made a sound this entire time. Embarrassment eked into her already flushed cheeks as she imagined what a scandalous sight she was to the spider from days gone by.

The man seated on the chair opposite the couch was dangling his arms over bent knees. Noir was still masked, one of the few Spidermen to actually try and maintain a secret identity, and the charcoal colored mask looked from one end of her to the other. He was staring intently at her face at one point, the protruding eye sections reflecting their bodies moving on the couch.

Noir then approached the spread spider and adjusted the protruding lenses of his masked eyes as if they were gasses. His head tilted in intrigue as he heard the deplorable slurping sounds from both ends of her body.

He brings his head to hers, Peter’s cock is inches from his face but he ignores it to intently watch the way her lips wrap around the other Spider-Man’s fingers.

“How ya doin’, buttercup?” His husky voice breathes into her ear. She can’t muster a response other than a shaky nod of her bobbing head and sputters of mewls. The swiping of Miguel’s tongue and approving praise from Peter took up too much of her mind space to formulate any sort of actual reply.

Noir sighed, almost like he was unsatisfied with the reply. He stood and put his hands on hips.

“Fellas… call me old fashioned, but” he glanced at the two men who seemingly ignored the grayscale spider’s intrusion, “You’re both doing this wrong if you’re really tryin’ to shake the shingles off this shack.”

The weird wording made the bundle of naked spiders freeze and lift an eyebrow in unison. Miguel pulled away from her ass and pussy and Peter did the same with the fingers in her mouth. She would’ve buckled had she not been pancaked.

“What the hell do you mean I’m doing this wrong?” Miguel and Peter both responded, offended. The breathless spider couldn’t see the exchange of winks and grins that happened because they were still smushed against Peter’s tummy.

“Hands, legs.” Noir instructed and the trapped spider found themselves pulled up and pressed firmly against Miguel’s chest with their hands clasped together. His large hand grabbed her ankle, a single claw grazing the thin skin there. Another muscled arm snaked around her waist and held her. His strong back supported their bodies against the plush arm of the couch.

She groaned when she realized Peter had slipped a web shooter on and had used them to hold her hands together. Another quick spurt from the smirking man made her arms stick loosely to her chest, just in case. He was always so careful.

But she didn’t mind being confined as long as someone would fucking touch her.

A tiny yelp makes Peter giggle in his relaxed position sitting on the couch head propped against the wall- taking a momentarily step back, but not taking his eyes off the spider caught up in their web.

Noir had snuck in front of her and had his face inches from hers. When Miguel felt her flinch in his grip he huffed a chuckle.

“You both were forgetting to press buttons.” Noir’s fingers cupped the underside of her exposed tits and he flicked his gloved thumbs over her nipples. He was maneuvering skillfully around the bound limbs.

More moans came out, she was finally getting these new set of hands on her. He went to pull up his mask and she kept her eyes glued to his face to finally see what he looked like.

Slate-gray skin was beginning to peek from the curling of the mask, but he shined a wicked gray and pearly white grin when he kept the mask just above his nose. He’d only exposed his jawline and lips, but it was enough to make the little spider’s breath hitch.

His unmasked mouth wrapped around one of her perked nipples and kept pinching the other between his fingers. The gentle sucking sounds made her quiver.

Noir then moved so he was crouched right between her legs, covered eyes taking in the sight of her drip. She noticed his passionate gaze even behind the mask and spread her legs to allow a better view. This earned a grunt in her ear from Miguel who pressed his still hard cock into her back, a soft coo from Peter watching who continued petting her hair, and an approving smile from the striking inky gradient enigma of a man before her.

“Oh, what a piece of honey…” Noir continued in his near century old slang. He took a gloved finger and ran it along the gooey length of her folds, the delicious stripe of friction on her pussy lips made her buck her hips. He stuck the wet finger in his mouth and sucked the leather. “Taste good, sweet spider. Makes me wanna take a bite out of your pretty donut.”

Her eyes roll back at the flattery and Noir speaks again, addressing the two other men, “You forgot a crucial component, pals… the rose bud.”

His tongue instantly found the flower he mentioned and she saw stars. Her clit had been untouched at this point. Not that everything up to this point hadn’t been fucking amazing, but the way the skillful mouth below her expertly tongued and suckled her neglected clitoris made her writhe and wail in ecstasy.

Thank god Lyla had been disconnected because there could be no recording of the blubbering mess the tasty spider became with Noir’s mouth attached to her pussy.

With all the teasing, pounding, and sucking beforehand, the stimulation of the bud of nerves between her legs brought her close to the edge within moments. Noir looked back up at her face and his tongue poked out his sinful smile. He could tell by the way she started thrashing in Miguel’s hold that she was about to crack her marbles. He lapped at her drooling pussy eagerly.

Miguel hissed through gritted teeth at his painfully hard cock. He situated his large body by squatting on the leg closest to the corner of the couch while the other planted firmly on the ground. He grabbed himself and lined it up with the flailing spider in his arm. His other hand came from its grip around her ankle just to grip on her hip. “Fuck, hold still.” Miguel’s tip pushed against her trying to find the spider’s slick slit. It grazed Noir’s chin and neck but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grabbed Miguel’s dick and guided it into that sticky honey pot. He focused more on the clit as Miguel pumped inside her. Miguel’s moans were loud in her ear with the combined sensation of the tight wetness and Noir’s tongue ghosting the top and sides of his driving dick.

Peter watched in awe, his mouth agape at the alluring sight below him. His hand had a hard hold around the base of his cock, as he squeezed more precum seeped out his blushed tip. He moaned at the sight of Miguel’s cock drilling into the tight pussy and the sounds from the fucked spider as Noir’s mouth encased her clit. Much like Noir, Peter’s tingles were telling him she was close.

“You want to cum for us? You should…” Peter asked and suggested in his playful tone. His oral affixation was apparent as he thumbed the inside of her mouth again. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

“Quiero que te vengas en mi verga, arñita”, Miguel grumbled into her ear.

“Mmhmmm.” Noir tried to concur, but his mouth was a little busy. The vibration of his voice against her clit and all three men urging her brought her to that high place.

She cried out their names in no particular order just whatever came out first. She gyrated her shaking body down on Miguel’s pounding cock and Noir’s tongue. Miguel’s movements became feverish causing Noir to pull back, giving her clit some space to breathe after the oral abuse. Peter moved his hand to Miguel’s hair and pulled his head back to look at his face, reminding him to go easy on that pretty push. It was hard for he was nearing his own orgasm, but he slowed to a more delicate pace. The convulsion of her cumming cunt around his cock was too good to pull out of just yet, but Noir spoke out breathlessly.

“I gotta get a taste of this cookie, boss.” He pleaded with the man who currently had her in his grasp. She should’ve hated how they were talking like she wasn’t there at times but she was riding her high and couldn’t be bothered to bicker. She stared through half-lidded, glazed over eyes as Noir pawed the tent in his pants.

“Did you stretch her out for me?” Noir asked as he undid his pants buckle and released a grayish cock as long as Peter’s and as thick as Miguel’s. She moaned as she was coming down from the clouds, eagerly wanting to try this new toy.

Miguel huffed and quickly wrapped his arms under her knees and lifted her effortlessly. His cock rudely pulled out of her and he spread her legs so that Noir could get a better view of the contracting, messy hole. Peter craned his neck so he could see as well.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he said to no one in particular from his perch. He had started pumping his cock as he watched her orgasm.

Noir admired the site up close and licked the fucked out hole causing the spider to shake. She was blushing from all the eyes and attention on her in her exposed state, but they were all looking in amazement.

She pouted and when Noir saw both sets of her puckered lips he wasted no time placing the thick tip of his uncut cock at the gaping entrance of her gooey hole.

“Now, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to tell me if it’s too much, but I think you can handle it. You’re going to do that again for me.” He pushed himself into her full flush easily with the help of Miguel’s propped arms holding her up. Her mouth formed a silent scream and she tossed her head back when he picked up the speed.

Miguel moaned and his still hard cock pressed against her ass cheeks in this position. “Que culo..” he mused as he slid his cock to line up with the wet folds of her cheeks. He started slowly fucking between her cheeks until his tip hit Noir’s pumping cock.

“Oh, fuuuck, baby girl..” Peter admired her body as he picked up the pace on his own strokes. “Can you take another? Please?”

He begged as he brought his cock back to her lips, biting his bottom lip hard and groaning when, instead of replying, she desperately took him into her mouth, eager to be completely full.

Peter thought he had the best seat in the house with his dick in her mouth and the sight of Noir and Miguel ravaging her body. He talked more and more as he got closer to cumming.

“You’re taking us so good. Such a good girl. You should see yourself. Look so sexy when you’re filled up.”

Noir kept his speed and force consistent when he surprised the spider again by rubbing his thumb just above her clit. He captured her lips with his own and she breathed her heavy moans into his mouth.

She was back to struggling for air with most of her holes plugged. Miguel’s thickness running between her legs offered a new feeling of friction while Noir’s length was taking some getting used to. Peter didn’t move his hips in caution of overwhelming the overloaded woman taking him in her mouth so well.

“Cum for me. Again.” He gently urged. The three other spiders all moaned in unison at Noir’s word for they were all on their brink. He chuckled, “all of you. Let’s fill this baby up.”

The idea of filling her pussy up with his load made Miguel’s hips snap quickly until he was spilling all over her ass, pussy lips, and leaking onto Noir. The thumb on her clit and the sounds of the man below her brought her back over the edge again. The pornographic imagery, sounds of a heated Miguel, the alluring control Noir had over them, and the split spider’s orgasms brought him to his own climax. He tried to pull out her mouth but she wrapped her lips around him tightly and he cried out as he came. He was talking again in seconds.

“Fuuuck, so sexy.. taking it all in like that.”

Noir took it all in with a grin. Feeling Miguel’s sipperly spunk mixing with the delicious drool he was driving into. A little bit of Peter B’s butter spilled out of the split spider’s mouth and Noir swiped at it with his gloved thumb before presenting it to her to suck on. The sounds only encouraged him to pump harder. “I wanna paint this cabin, doll. Can I?”

Noir tapped gently on the bundle of nerves that were on fire with the question, causing the spread spider to spaz in the hold of the three others.

The spent spider thought nothing, only felt. Sensation was the only presence in her consciousness as Miguel slid his slowly shrinking dick between her thighs and plump cheeks. Peter’s praise echoed from one ear to the other making her blush more than the promiscuous positions she’d been put in this evening.

He had her right where he wanted her - how he’d been picturing her since he met her for the first time: Whimpering and shaking on the verge of implosion.

Noir’s imagination painted an inky image of the next time with this ripe peach. His grayscale vision pictured them alone in all the ways he wanted her. The thought nearly made him burst and paint her insides instead.

Until he pulled out and jerked himself twice before cumming all over the spent spider’s tummy and tits. His audience of three all moaned with him as sticky ropes shot over the smooth skin of her abdomen.

Senseless spider still had her legs hiked up and she hung her head to the side towards Peter who was massaging her scalp and murmuring sweet nothings towards the group. Miguel’s heavy breathing was coming down as he gently lowered her onto the couch and easily slipped from behind her, regretting it the moment her body wasn't pressed against his own. Miguel used one of his claws and cut through Peter’s webbing and carefully pulled it from her, placing her arms by her sides.

Noir marveled at her in this state. Fucked out and smothered with lovin’. He helped Miguel lower her legs and eased their bent and spread joints. He rubbed along the length of her leg and said something to his boss unheard to the mewling spider on the couch.

They left the room shortly after, but she didn’t notice.

Only aware of the aching she felt… not from the intense session, those stings wouldn’t be felt until tomorrow, but from the emptiness inside her and lack of body support she had just moments ago. She had leaned on their strong scaffolding entirely and now slumped from their missing support. Peter’s hand in her hair kept her grounded as she

Her eyes blinked open slowly and she was greeted with those baby blues smiling at her as Peter had perched himself beside her on the floor.

“You really did so good.” He examined her glistening face and body in its afterquakes of orgasm.

Puffy lips redden around the edges, matted hair, slumped body: what a site to behold. He felt lucky as he brought up his previously discarded shirt to clean her chest and belly. She started to push it away, the disheveled man didn’t have many clean clothes to begin with, but he simply leaned to kiss her forehead and continued to wipe up some of the mess made.

“You took such good care of us, sweetie,” his voice was slightly raspy but still flirtatious, “it’s our turn to take care of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Miguel and Noir returned to the room, they were met with the sight of a lightly sleeping spider and their counterpart stroking her hair and smiling at her.

Miguel suggested they let her sleep, get her strength back, but Noir was insistent.

“This is the most important part, boss.” Noir asserted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sleepy spider was coming to again swaying slightly in the arms of the tallest in the trio walking down the short hallway.

“Bella Durmiente,” Miguel cooed. He had been watching her face as he carried her to the bathroom in his large office and when her lashes parted and fluttered open to look up at him his chest tightened.

“Such a cutie, even when she snores.” Peter beamed over Miguel’s shoulder as if he were carrying a kitten in his cradled arms.

Miguel carried her into the bathroom and she looked around at lights moving on the walls. It wasn’t tricks of Miguel’s futuristic decor, but rather several lit pillar candles flickering and casting soft shadows of the four of them.

The new recruit had fully come down from her delirium from earlier, but more flush came to her face as Miguel placed her into a clawfoot tub. It was huge. It had to be to house the large man that was sinking her into the shoulder deep water.

The bath was so warm. Hot even. It wasn’t too hot for her though as she awkwardly grabbed the edges of the tub, even though Miguel was oh so careful. Heaps of bubbles rounded the edge and she focused on the fizzling I ward off the feeling of three sets of eyes on her.

Miguel’s hands returned to her body as he rested on his knees beside the tub. He had already saturated a soft wash cloth in soap and was gently rubbing it on her skin, starting with her painted abdomen. He was reaching towards her lower half when his brows furrowed slightly in concentration on her face, watching her reactions. He barely patted her sensitive inner thighs with the rag but pulled away when she winced.

“Lo siento, arañita.” Miguel remorsed. She responded softly, saying she was fine.

“You really took a beating, dollface,” Noir agreed. He’d taken the knee himself at the end of the tub. His gloves were off, sleeves rolled up, and with surprisingly soft hands he reached into the bubble bath and rubbed the swooning spider’s feet. “You sure you okay, sugar?”

She responded by shyly nodding and sinking her head under the water down to her nose, her eyes moving from each man’s face. She saw that Peter had mirrored the others’ posture and positioned himself at the head of the tub. His chin rested on his arm laid out on the tub’s rim. His other arm reached out and idly traced circles on the surface of the water. He had grown uncharacteristically quiet while watching the peaceful scene unfold in front of him.

She poked her mouth out the water and timidly said, “You guys don’t have to do all this, I can bathe myself…”

She wasn’t uncomfortable, just not used to this kind of care and attention. Especially three fold. Moments ago she was nearly shameless in her entanglement of limbs and fluids. However, this was treatment that was normally forgotten or shrugged off at the end of a long session. She could handle the smacks and fingers grabbing and leaving small bruises. Intimate connection was a whole different level of consideration she simply didn’t know how to react to.

The three men ignored her as they continued their self-delegated duties. The silence wasn’t unnerving but actually tolerable and she felt herself slipping again at the pampering pressing on the pads of her feet.

The large hands lifting limbs and reaching to cleanse her completely calmed her body that had been thrashing not too long ago.

The usual quips from the mouthy spider had been replaced with sweet pokes at her cheeks and shoulders followed by giggles from them both. They playfully splashed each other. Even though the brooding one rolled his eyes at the clothes he just changed into getting wet, he wished he could record the moment and have it on a loop for those especially difficult days protecting the multiverse.

The black-clad spider pressed along the sweet spider’s feet once more before blending into the background again. The glimmering candles quickly swiped from his era framed his silhouette as he retreated a moment.

He returned with a towel in one hand and a certain pink robe that had been tossed to the ground in the fun from before in the other hand. He smiled softly behind his mask at the scene in front of him: sweet spider back to smiling and laughing.

He nodded to himself in pride.

The most important part.

🕷️🕸️🕷️

__________ __________ __________ __________

Spanish translation (THANK YOU AGAIN @ejpuki on Twitter and my cousin lol):

“Está apretadito…riquísimo..” (she’s so tight,… so fucking hot)

“me vuelves loco” (you drive me crazy)

“Te voy a comer ese culo.” (going to eat that ass)

“Quiero que te vengas en mi verga, arñita” (I want you to cum on my dick, little spider)

“Que culo..” (that ass)

“Bella Durmiente” (Sleeping Beauty 🥹)

“Lo siento, arañita.” (I’m sorry, little spider)

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman noir #peter b parker #across the spiderverse #atsv smut #priest!Miguel was NOWHERE near this okay??#smut #female reader #3 v 1 #I think I could take ‘em #not in a fight

388 notes · View notes

mochiroreo · 9 months

Text

Oh goodie! Prologue [breaking in]

Summary: being a latchkey child, you are used to being alone. So when your parents announced that your whole family is moving to Hawkins, you paid them no mind and just packed up your bags. What you are not expecting was that the house that your family just bought comes with two neighbours that are in dire need to have you in any way.

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns. [mentions of god in this chapter] DUBCON. NONCON. 100% FILTH. Smut. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Hidden relationships. Age gap. Cream pie. Size kink. Degradation. Corruption. Choking/slapping (in a pleasurable way). Pet names (no use of y/n). Fingering. Squirting. Overstimulation. Public sex. Recording. Dark!Steve Harrington & Dark!Eddie Munson

Author’s note: thank you for your support on the teaser! I did not expect that

૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა this is my first time writing and posting my fics publicly so I hope you like them! This part does not contain much but I will still post it for the sake of world building for this fic 💞

P.s. not beta’d. So.. there might be grammar mistakes..

Thank you to @kayaedits and @kitsunecafe for the dividers!

“It wouldn’t be that bad,sweetheart. I swear. Me and your dad promises that the house is really pretty! Plus,you get the spacious room that you have always dreamed off!”

Your mom tried to pacify you,telling you all the things you will like about the new house that they bought at Hawkins, Indiana. A place you did not know even exists when they mentioned that they were planning to sell the house where you currently live and move to the said place. Eyes a bit puffy and red while your lips tremble and jutted out in a pout. Hugging your soft stuffed teddy bear,you were feeling overwhelmed. With their decision already made, you cannot help but look around your room.

The soft pinks and pastel blues are adorning every corner, the trinkets that you collected along the way throughout high school were neatly piled and arranged. The medals, awards, trophies, and books that are lined up on the shelves that pretty sure had indents on them for how long the pile has been there. She looks at you with pity,before sighing and pulling you in a hug. They know that you’re not crying because of how you’ll miss you best friend. Or how you’ll miss the town. No, they know you don’t really care much about those.

You hate big changes. Knowing how shy and timid you are, you always prefer staying home or discovering new spots where you can just relax and let your mind drift away while reading a book or jotting down notes on things you find interesting. And your parents know that. Being painfully aware of the times their jobs affected your upbringing,they try to make it up to you every single time. With you being on their minds when they bought the house,they chose the biggest that they can find which is full of greenery in a quiet neighbourhood.

“But.. its—“ you tried to reason out your frustration,tears slowly filling up your eyes again. “I know honey,I know. I’m so sorry. Me and your father just wants what’s best for you,you do know that.. right? Its not just for work but we can just see that house as our permanent house. No more moving after this.” Your mum apologised in a gentle manner, still patient while hugging you and rubbing your back. You just groaned under her hug,sniffling as you continue to bury yourself on your mom’s arms. “Besides, there are public and private colleges around. You can also get a summer job there too while you are still deciding on what to study. I’ve heard that there’s a book shop and a record store near our house,too. Maybe they’re hiring? Oh,we even have lovely neighbours! Too nice,actually! Me and your dad happened to meet them while we were inspecting the house..” you listened to your mum telling you all about the new place, fiddling with your fingers while it slowly sinks on you that you really don’t have any choice. “Its a really beautiful place,honey. I promise. We promise.” Your mum ended softly, giving you a forehead kiss.

“And—“ your dad’s voice popped the bubble you and your mum had,slightly jumping at his voice. “Maybe you can find a decent boyfriend out there. You know, better than— what was his name again? Frank?” He asked,his nose scrunched in disgust. You laughed at how he tried to remember you ex’s name. Giving your mum a tight hug before standing up to give the same to your dad as well,you answered him while copying his expression. “Yes,dad. Frank. What an ugly name,huh?” Your whole family giggled,slandering your ex while talking about what you and your mum should cook for dinner, the anxiety slowly easing in the background.

“Hey mom, where do you want these?!” You shouted after your mother who is already carrying a box of kitchen utensils with a laugh out of excitement.

After a grueling 6 hour car ride, the first thing you did was immediately jump out of your family car and stretch your limbs. The air was sticky and humid,feeling the spring season already ending. You definitely did not expect the temperature on the way here despite it still being early morning. With the heat making your shirt stick to your skin,you slumped your shoulders,already tired at the thought of moving. Putting your sunglasses up your head, you made your way to the car’s boot, quickly grabbing some of your boxes that you won’t clumsily drop.

Hawkins is definitely an eye catcher. Sure, a small town. But there is something mysterious about it that you cannot help but be curious about the said town. You like how snug and tight the community is. People smiling at your parents here and there, striking up a conversation with them too. It eases your nerves that it looks like your parents chose the right place to settle after all. It looks like you will be spending the upcoming summer exploring the never-ending variety of stores your whole family drove by.

The day ended when the last piece of furniture is inside and assembled. “I’m dead..” you muttered under your breath when you plopped face-down on your bed. The house is beautiful— Pretty is not even enough to describe it. The outside definitely shows the history and age of the place. Vintage,painted with neutral colors, while hints of greens,moss, and crawling plants adorn the vast spaces near the windows. It is definitely different from the two houses on both sides of your house. Your mind is already racing on how you are going to decorate your bedroom, already allocating the empty corner for some massive book shelves and a shrine of trinkets and random journals that you collect for fun. You just finished taking a much needed bath,giggling to the comforters when you became too excited on buying new stuff for your bedroom, not noticing your mom’s footsteps as she make her way upstairs.

Your mom stood in front of you,a big smile on her face. Your giggling stopped when you noticed her presence— and how she is holding two pies that are meticulously packed with a bow on top of each boxes. God knows when she had the chance to bake a pie amidst the chaos of never-ending boxes and assembling furnitures together. You went quiet,noticing how your energy is not matching hers as you press your lips in a line while hoping whatever she plans on asking you for is not the one that you are currently thinking. “Sweetheart can you give—“ she started sickeningly sweet before you immediately answered “no. Nope. No,no,no. Goodnight!” You tried to evade her favor, quickly hiding under you fluffy blanket and closing your eyes. Your mom,expecting the behaviour, had quickly put down the pies on top of your study desk and snatched the blanket from your body. “You will!” She exclaimed before laughing loudly as you fight her back for your blanket. “No! Why am I always the one handing it to the neighbours?! I’m always the sone doing it!” You whined,already losing from your so called “battle” against your mother. “Because! Me and your dad are still busy!” She tried to reason out when you know she’s just planning to make you go out and hopefully make new friends or just meet new people. Your mom tugged a bit too hard that made you sit down. You continued whining and whinging,knowing that you already lost and you have no other choice.

You changed from your tank top and sleeping shorts to a cropped cream sweater and a plain pink skirt before brushing your hair and swiping some cherry lip gloss on your lips to at least make yourself looks presentable. With a last look to the mirror,you have put on your glasses and sneakers,before turning around to your mom. You find your mom holding the boxes once again with a cheshire-like grin before handing it to you. “Yeah,you trickster” you mumbled and your mom knows that you are only joking as her loud laughter and giggles together with yours echoed throughout the house.

The air cooled down quite a bit when you stepped out of your house,the gate creaking as you try to push it close using your foot. Trying to ease your nerves, you looked around and drank in your surroundings. How the cul-de-sac is surrounded by trees that makes the place a bit eerie but also dreamy when the sun had set today. How the clouds are soft and plush,orange and yellows slowly disappearing while the moon and the stars slowly peek out. Slowing your steps as much as you can, you focused on the feeling of the gravel underneath your feet and just avoiding the dread of meeting new people. On your way,were slowly starting to hate the whole thing and how you wish the houses are far more apart.

Finally,you made it towards your neighbours gate,seeing that its slightly ajar which made you hesitate before deciding that you just want it to be over with and stepped inside. “Screw it” you say to yourself while walking towards a black stained oak door. Trying to balance the other pie on top of another to fix your glasses from being crooked and your hair from being destroyed slightly because of the wind, you lifted one of your fist and is already thinking of how to escape the social interaction if they end up being too talkative.

“Well fuck that.” You heard a deep,husky voice as he talk to someone that you cannot hear clearly. You dropped your fist beside you,anxiety slowly creeping in while your mind runs hundred miles per minute if you should just come back later than to interrupt their conversation. “They keep on trying to sell their god to me for how many fucking years already!” The man clearly exclaimed before another man let out a roaring laugh. “If god is fucking real he will present me or you with someone that can fucking blow my balls off and suck my dick so deep that I will be convulsing at the end of the night and he— whoever the fuck he is— will tell me how its his gift for me,like— someone fucking made for me and you—“

It was the last thing you heard before the huge wooden door opened,the man’s rambling abruptly stopped and two of the most breathtaking men entered your view. One with long,curly hair that looks like it’ll be soft under your fingertips. While the other one has thick,luscious hair that is not as long as the other but is styled to perfection.

“Hi..?” with your face red as a beet,that was the only word you can whisper.

299 notes · View notes

starlitmark · 3 months

Text

Summary: Chenle loves spoiling you. So much so that, sometimes, you just need to let him fuck into a changing room with you to let him show you. Pairing: Socialite!Chenle x fem!reader Tropes: socialite/nepo baby au, established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, semi-clothed sex, mirror sex, praise kink, oral (m receive), cum eating Word Count: 1,413 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Nothing On Me by Kai

“Chenle, you really don’t need to spend all this money on me.” You remind him.

“I have the money to spend and want to spoil you. You’re my girlfriend.” He chuckles, “Plus! My mom has the charity gala in a few weeks, and you mentioned that you have nothing to wear.”

You look around the shop and then back to your boyfriend, “Then why are we in the everyday wear department?”

Chenle smiles brightly again and pulls you against his chest. A laugh threatens to burst from his lips when you pout at him.

“Shopping doesn’t mean we only have to get the one thing!”

He drops a kiss onto your pouty lips and smiles brightly at you again. No matter how often Chenle reassures you that he wants to spend this money on you and that it won’t hurt his finances, you still feel slightly bad. You’re not from a background that lives as comfortably as him. You grew up in an average household, so when he takes you to these high-end stores to buy something as simple as a T-shirt, there’s a culture shock. It’s diminished over the time you’ve dated so far. It may never fully go away. Chenle grabs your hand and pulls you toward the escalator. The higher the floor, the higher the price. The moment you’re on the next floor, you’re met with gorgeous formalwear you’d never be able to afford in a million years. Your boyfriend squeezes your hand to reassure you before guiding you toward the formal gowns.

“Mom said the theme is 1930’s Hollywood… I don’t know why she’d choose that, but she did.” He shrugs, “What color do you think you’d like?”

“I don’t know, Lele…” you trail off, “Everything is really expensive, I’m sure I-”

“Let me spoil you, love. What color?”

“Didn’t that era of fashion really love dark green, red, lavender, and gold?”

Chenle chuckles, “Sure if that’s what you want it to be.”

Chenle gestures for you to wander. Finally, you step up to the racks and choose a few gowns. You don’t dare look at the price tag. Two of the dresses you’re more excited to try on are floor-length silk gowns. They have similar cuts. It’s not quite hourglass, but definitely accentuating your waist. The straps are strings, and the back dips low enough to expose your entire back. The third gown you picked up has the same cut as the other two but is a deep green sparkly velvet material. It has a shawl that comes with it made of the same material with faux fur lining the edges. It’s perfectly reminiscent of old Hollywood glamour.

“You’ve got a good eye, love.” Chenle muses, “Wanna try them on?”

You nod, “Wait outside the room for me?”

“Always, I wanna see what they look like on you.”

His comment has a suggestive undertone, but you choose not to read too deeply into it. You carry the gowns into the fitting room. The first one you put on is the velvet one, it looks nice. That’s about it; you know Chenle will appreciate it regardless. When he first started taking you out shopping, you joked that he was just playing dress-up with you as the doll. That made for an interesting night, to say the least.

“You ready for the first one?” You call through the door.

“Let’s see it, baby.”

You step out and see your boyfriend on his phone waiting for you. He’s created a new habit of randomly taking videos and pictures of you. You love it; it makes for some of the best candid photos and moments caught on camera. He puts his phone back in his hoodie pocket and looks you up and down.

“Well?” You ask, turning around a few times.

“Fucking beautiful.” He mumbles under his breath, “You look stunning, baby.”

“No objections? We’re only on the first one.” “If you look as beautiful as you always do, we’ll leave with all three of them.”

You feel heat rush to your face at his flattery. You turn and walk back to your room to change into the next gown.

“Babe,” Chenle calls before you can close the door fully.

“Hmm?” You ask, popping your head and shoulder through the opening.

“Do the others have that style too?”

“Yeah, why?” You ask, raising your eyebrow at him.

“No reason.”

You close the door fully and change into the first silk gown. This one is a cherry cola color. Honestly, it’s not your favorite. The color just doesn’t seem to be right for some reason. Standing there, you debate, even showing him for a few moments. In reality, a few moments must’ve been a few minutes because Chenle knocks on the door.

“You okay, love? You’ve been in there a while.”

“It’s just– I don’t know if it’s even worth showing you. The color isn’t right, making me look–”

“Let me in?” He requests.

You let out a long breath before opening the door to let him into the rather spacious room. He presses his back against the door and looks at you with that same heated look. You pick at your fingers when he doesn’t speak for a few moments.

“I told you it’s not the be–”

You’re cut off by Chenle surging forward to kiss you. His hand wraps tight around you, holding your bare waist. With how he’s kissing, you could melt into a puddle in seconds. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and your fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his head. Your nipples pebble up underneath the thin silk. The material does nothing to hide them at all.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t even need to see the damn purple one. We’re getting all of them.”

“Chenle, that’s not–”

Again, you’re interrupted by a kiss. One of his hands wanders up to move the dress strap down your arm carefully. He pulls the other down a moment later with his other hand. The dress pools around your ankles, leaving you exposed to the chilly air and your boyfriend’s wandering hands. Your hands find their way under his hoodie and push it up a bit. Something about him being fully clothed while you’re practically naked makes you more desperate for him.

“We need to be quick, love.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Lele, need you right now.” You whisper back.

Chenle spins you around so you’re pressed against the full-length mirror. You hear him unzip his jeans and step closer to you. He presses kisses along your shoulders and upper back as he pulls your underwear to the side. The blunt head of his cock presses against your weeping hole. You pull your lower lip into your mouth to suppress the moan that wishes to escape. His jeans are just low enough not to be in the way. The skin-to-skin contact is barely noticeable, but there is just enough to feel his body heat radiating onto you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, my love.” He groans in your ear, “I’m so fucking lucky to be yours.”

“Chenle,” you whisper-moan, “Feels so good, why don’t we do this more oft–” you cut yourself off to hold back another loud moan.

“Cause you, my love, can’t be fucking quiet.” He chuckles lowly as he picks up his pace.

Your upper body is fully pressed against the mirror. Your breath fogs up the glass with each pant and stifled moan. Chenle’s fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back against him with each thrust. Even though you hold your moans back, the sound of skin on skin is probably a dead giveaway to what’s happening right now. Your boyfriend gives a few hard, punctuated thrusts before pulling out of you.

Spinning you around again, he guides you down onto your knees. Instantly, you know to take him into your mouth. The combined taste of your arousal and his precum makes your head reel through more debauched fantasies. You suck his cock while looking up at him through your eyelashes. You’re kneeling on the silky dress you had previously forgotten. Chenle’s fingers thread through your hair, holding you on his cock as he cums down your throat. You swallow every drop of it. He bends forward and places a small, sweet kiss on your forehead. “We’re buying the dresses, then we’re going home, and I’m gonna make you cum so many times you’ll forget your own name.” He smirks.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

#chenle smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #joongfryefff24 #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct dream smut #chenle fanfic #chenle x reader

126 notes · View notes

propertyofyoutube · 8 days

Note

HIIII okay so i wanted to say I LOVE your stories! I haven't come around to reading Our Time is Now yet but I really want to. Also I have one request, but I'm not sure if you'd be comfortable writing that one, so I have another one just in case!

So, would it be comfortable to request a Dom!Reader x Colby? Like, they're both in the "do I like them or not" stage and they're at a party, and Colby ends up trying to make Reader jealous, but she's having none of that?

If you're not comfortable writing something like that, I would also LOVE a fluff fic with Sam x Reader, where like Reader's on her period and Sam takes care of her? And it's just so so sweet?

Again, absolute ADORE your fics, and can't wait to see more of what you have in store for us! ^^

Authors note: FIRSTLY… OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 🥺🖤 and secondly I loveee these requests! So here is the Colby one and I will also do the Sam one very sooon! I also may do a part two to this where reader really does hard on him in a more controlled setting. Again, thank you I’m so glad you’re enjoying my stuff! Xx

You’re this close to cracking - EXPLICIT

Summary: you and Colby had been best friends for a while now. You began to think there may be something more between you after, on the last night out, Colby ‘scared away’ the guy you wanted to take home. He thought you didn’t notice what he did, but you saw the whole thing… flash forward to a party and after you turn Colby down, he does everything in his power to make you jealous…

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, dom!reader x Colby, sub!colby, unprotected sex, bad language, creampie, bit of filth, Colby making reader jealous, using someone, argument.

Not edited.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The music blared as the colourful lights bounced around the club. The entire room filled with sweaty bodies among the machine induced fog. You were on another night out with your best friends. This had became a weekly occurrence for the friend group, as you were all so busy, Saturday night outs were the perfect way to ensure that you could still stay in touch amongst the chaos of your lives.

The night was going amazingly. You had hit it off with the cutest guy, he was hot as fuck and actually seemed like a nice guy. You had just headed to the bathroom after telling the girls how hard you were going to rock his world later on tonight. But all of that changed as you walked out of the bathroom to see Colby, near the bar, stood with the guy. And the way he was talking did not seem very nice. The guy stepped back from Colby before holding up his hands and walking away. Your blood boiled as the guy headed in your direction.

“Hey! Where are you going?” You said trying to mask your confusion.

“I.. uh… I gotta go sorry.” He said abruptly as he walked quickly away from you. You look back at Colby after watching him leave, your face dropped massively as you began to walk over to him. Your body rising with both confusion and anger. Colby noticed you heading his way as his eyes fell wide.

“What the fuck are you doing, Colby?” You shouted over the loud music as the guy you had hit it off with hurried away.

Colby looked at you wide eyed, he didn’t think he would get caught chasing that guy away, “I- I just…”

You stood, shocked as you waited for him to speak, but he didn’t, “what did you say to him?”

“I just… you don’t want to be banging a guy like that y/n!” He shouted back.

You covered for eyes trying to comprehend what was happening, but the truth was… you had no idea. “Why on earth are you telling me who I can and can’t bang all of a sudden!” You shouted.

Colby downed the rest of his drink, trying to find the right words to say, but the truth is, he didn’t know either. “You deserve better than that, y/n…”

You froze, confused. Was it the alcohol that was making him act like this? “Colby… I don’t get it. I’m not looking to marry that guy!”

Colby’s heart began beating fast as he felt his stomach do a flip, thinking of you being with that guy… or any guy, “you need to just… stop sleeping with the first guy you see!” Colby shouted, his feelings all over the place and the alcohol certainly not helping. You heart broke as you tried to understand what he meant by that comment. Your eyes started to fill at his whore insinuation.

Colby froze, he realised just how bad that sounded, “y/n… I didn’t-“

“Fuck you colby…” you said your eyes almost pouring. You quickly pushed past him heading for the door of the club.

Colby sighed feeling frustrated with himself, hurting you was the complete opposite of what he was aiming for tonight. “Y/n! Wait!” You couldn’t hear him over the music as you finally reached the door, pushing past the crowd into the street. The fresh air hitting you refreshingly as you stood. Your tears beginning to roll down your makeup covered cheeks.

“Y/n!” Colby shouted as he manoeuvred around the people entering the club.

You spun around, more annoyed than ever, “what Colby?” You shouted, fed up.

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean it like that.” Colby said grabbing your arms as you looked everywhere but at him.

“Oh really…” you said rolling your eyes, “because it sounded like you were calling me a whore, to me…”

“No no no…” Colby said with panic on his voice, “I don’t think you’re a whore, I could never think that… you’re not!” He babbled.

“Then what the fuck Colby?” You shouted, as you walked away from him. You couldn’t take this confused situation any longer.

“I just… the truth is…” Colby said his voice softening as he looked at the back of your head, “I couldn’t stand to see you with him.”

Your stomach filled with butterflies as your brain fumbled for an answer to what Colby meant. “I don’t get what you mean Colby! So what… I can’t fuck somebody because… what? Because you don’t like the look of us together?”

“No it’s not that I-“ Colby couldn’t speak, his heart was telling him one thing, but he brain was saying another.

“Then what Colby? What the fuck are you doing?” You said annoyed, “why are you being like this?!”

Colby suddenly grabbed your face with both hands and before you realised what was happening, his lips were pressed tightly against yours. He caught you completely off guard. So you pulled back, looking at him shocked. Granted that yours and Colby friendship was predominantly late night drives, sexual tension and flirtatious banter, but you had already had this conversation before… your friendship meant too much to you both to risk.

Colby looked at you, slightly embarrassed and annoyed at himself, “I’m sorry…” he said letting go of your face taking a step back.

“What is going on Colby?” You asked, desperate for some answers at this point.

“I couldn’t stand to see you with him, because…” Colby took a deep breath before finishing, “because I think I… I like you.” He looked at the floor, his cheeks flushing red. You had never seen Colby like this. Not with you, not with anymore.

You chuckled nervously, “Colbs… we talked about this…” you said softly, your anger melting away.

“I know…” Colby said, slightly disheartened as he looked at the floor.

“Our friendship, it’s too great for us to lose…” you said honestly. But all you could think about was how his lips felt on yours. And how deep down, you wanted nothing more than to feel that all over again. After all, throughout your friendship you often had dreamed of what it would be like.

Colby stopped, his hands on his hips as he took a deep breath to look at you. He sighed as he spoke, “no. You know what? Fuck that.” He said as your eyebrows frowned in confusion. “I think… wait no I know that I want you, y/n.”

Your eyes fell wide. You didn’t know what to do, or feel.

Colby took a step closer to you as he continued, “I think you should give me a chance.” He said with a smirk.

‘The alcohol… I must be the alcohol’ you thought to yourself as you chuckled, “Colby… your drunk-“

“So what, doesn’t mean it’s not the truth!” Colby said with an excited smile on his face.

“And… you know you couldn’t handle me.” You said back with a smirk.

Colby bit his lip, loving the flirtatious banter, “I think I’ll be just fine, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t lie, the way he called you sweetheart made your heart twitch and your clit to pulsate. You took a step closer to him, looking deep into his eyes. You could hear Colby swallow hard, maybe he did really want you after all. You smirked as you spoke, “no Colby… I ain’t no one’s submissive.” You could hear Colby’s breath shake as his jaw fell slack.

You winked before walking away. As Colby snapped back to reality he quickly shouted after you, “you watch y/n! I’ll have you cracking in no time!”

You didn’t turn back but you couldn’t help but smile at his words as you continued on your path.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Throughout the following week, Colby truly tried his hardest. The flirting turned up to 100, the glances across the room, the carefully placed hands on your body as he moved past you. You must admit, you were close to cracking multiple times this week. But the truth was, you didn’t even know if you did want Colby in the same way. You’ve seen for yourself, how he could be with other girls, and you yourself usually slept around with no strings attached. But not with friends, especially Colby. He meant far too much to you, and you really weren’t willing to risk what you already have.

The next Saturday rolled around rather quickly, but this time, you were all invited to a party at the old trap house. Everyone was going to be there.

As you pulled up outside the house, Sam and Jake quickly jumped out from the backseats as you unbuckled your belt, “y/n, wait.” Colby said before you opened your door.

You turned to him quickly, “yeah?” Your excitement for this party having your mood so high right now.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask this…” Colby started as you sighed with a smile. “Please will you go in there as my date tonight?” You could see the plead in his eyes but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

You rolled your eyes with a smirk and a slight chuckle, “Colby, we’ve talked about this…”

“I know! But I know that…” Colby hands lifted up to move the hair out of your face, your breath catching in your throat, “you’re this close to cracking.” He said with a smirk.

You quickly snapped yourself out of his gaze. He was right, you were that close to cracking but you were terrified of it would it mean for you both, your friendship if things didn’t work out. “God Colby!” You laughed, “why can’t you just go in there and you know… be your normal self for me?” You said with puppy dog eyes. Colby has had enough of the game and the chase, he was making you crack tonight. Then it hit him, this was his opportunity. The thing that would really make you crack after everything he’s tried this week.

“Fine.” He said with a smile, “you have your wish, sweetheart. I will be my normal self.” Colby said with a mischievous look on his face.

“Thank you!” You said with a sigh, “now come on!” You laughed as you climbed out of the car.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The party was going great, the alcohol flowed nicely as you and your friends danced and socialised. You were very tipsy at this point, not quite drunk yet as you looked around for him. Colby. He was no where to be seen. You quickly found Tara who was taking shots with Jared in the kitchen. “Hey guys, have you seen Colby?” You asked as Tara excitedly spun around at the sound of your voice.

“Hey!” She smiled as she handed you a shot, “yes! He was right here…” Tara looked around confused as he suddenly seen Colby heading your way, “oh there he is!”

You turned around to see Colby walking over to you with the smuggest look on his face. “Oh hey y/n.” He said with a cheery tone.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” You shouted over the music with a smile.

Colby bit his lip as he began making a drink, “oh I’m sorry!” He said with a tone you no longer recognised, “I was just busy my new lady friend over there.” He leaned down to you and pointed over at the tall brunette girl, with a figure out of this world. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink slightly. Colby noticed the look the on your face as you looked at her. “Isn’t she hot?” Colby said with that smug look back on his face.

‘What is he up to?’ You thought to yourself. And it wasn’t long before you figured it out. He was trying to make you jealous. You chuckled to yourself as you refused to let him win this way. You turned to face him. “Yeah she is, I guess I’ll leave you to it.” You said a smirk. Colby was taking back slightly, he thought he had you but I guess he needed to go harder.

“Thank you,” he said with a patronising tone, “I think I’m in for a very good night tonight.. don’t you?” He said as the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

You looked back at the girl who sat taking selfies on the sofa, waiting for Colby’s return. “Oh yeah,” you nodded, “make sure you get her STD results.” You said with a smug look on your face. Colby’s mouth dropped wide at your comment. This was getting to you, it was working, and Colby could see that. But before he could reply, you quickly downed the shot that was in your hand, throwing the cup to the side. “Later Colbs.” You smiled as he quickly hurried away from him.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The Evening was moving quickly as most of the party had began to disperse. You all sat around the living area, Colby and that girl directly on the other side of the room from you. You couldn’t help it, your teeth began to grind and your heart began to beat fast. He was really pushing every single one of your buttons. His eyes constantly glancing at you. The way his stare buried into you made your body rise in heat and the need to rip his clothes off more and more intense. But no. You are not giving in. That is until now. Colby looked at you once again as your eyes met his, he gave you a ‘last chance’ look as you rolled your eyes shaking your head.

Colby sighed slightly, this was it. This was his last chance and if what he does next doesn’t work, then maybe you really don’t want him. He looked back at the girl sitting close up beside him, who was still talking away. He took a deep breath before checking that you were looking, and once he felt your eyes on him, a mischievous smirk appeared on his face, “yeah that’s really great!” He said as he wasn’t listening to a word she said. He quickly leaned in, connecting their lips.

Your eyes fell wide as anger and jealously filled your entire body. You really didn’t realise just how badly affected you were by this until right now. Seeing him, his lips on another. You bit your tongue. Your jaw flexed as you quickly stood from your seat heading for the staircase. Colby pulled away from the kiss and looked in your direction. He saw the look on your face and guilt hit him like a truck. As you reached the stairs you stopped, looking back him one last time. You tilted your head signalling that you wanted him to follow you. He had practically fawned at your feet all week, and tonight he tortured you with the deadly sin jealously. Enough was enough.

You headed upstairs into the room that used to Colby’s many years ago. As you looked around the room and saw how different it looked suddenly you heard him enter, his presence making your body cover in goosebumps.

“Y/n…” he said softly as he walked up behind you. “Look, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-“ as he spoke he lifted his hand up to touch your back.

You spun around quickly, cutting him off as you stood on your tip toes connecting your lips, in a deep kiss. After a moment, Colby sunk into the surprised kiss as he grabbed your face with both hands, deepening the connection. Everything got heated. Quick. As you pulled away catching your breath as you spoke, “I’m so pissed at you right now.” You said as you leaned back in.

“Oh yeah…” Colby mumbled against your lips, lifting his arms to grab your jacket, quickly pulling it over your shoulders and down your arms.

“You’ve tortured me all night.” You spoke into the kiss as you also began to remove his clothes. Colby’s hands trailed all over your body as you walked him over to the bed. Just as the back of his legs hit the frame, you pulled away looking at the hungry look on Colby’s face. You quickly pushed his chest with force as he landed on the bed just left in his boxers. You looked down on his, so much frustration and passion fuelling you as you spoke, you voice dominant, “if we’re doing this… we’re doing this my way.” Colby eyes fell wide as he watched you climbed on top of him. He had been waiting a long time for this. He wasn’t use to not having control, but damn. The way you moved, the way you spoke, he was under your spell.

You connected your lips once again in another deep and passionate kiss. Colby pulled you closer as he thrusted his hips up into your pelvis. He groaned into the kiss and you could feel how desperate he was becoming as his bulge hardened against you. You leaned up, looking down at him as his hands gripped your hips. “So You did all this, because you want me?” You said with a smirk. Colby nodded his head as he bit his lip. You thought for a moment as you sat up on him, your core pressed down on his rock hard dick. You moved slightly earning a desperate wince from him, “would you have fucked that girl tonight? Be honest.” You asked in a demanding tone.

Colby took a deep breath, “yeah.” He said softly. But fuck, that turned you on even more.

You looked down on him as his heart pounded out his chest, the view of you sitting on top of him being the best he’s ever seen you. “What do you want Colby?”

Colby’s eyes looked up and down your body as he hands traced up to your waist, “you…” he said softly. “Fuck, I want you so fucking badly.” He said as he buckled his hips.

You licked your lips as you saw Colby swallow hard, you leaned down, your lips pressed against his ear, “oh yeah.” You placed a kiss just below his lobe.

Colby inhaled sharply as he nodded, “ye-yeah.” You kissed along his neck, grinding your hips down on him more intensely, “then beg…” you demanded your lips kissing and sucking down to his collar bone.

Colby gasped, he’s never begged before… he’s always had girls begging for him, he was completely out of his comfort zone, however, the way he felt about you, compared to no other. “P… please, y/n.” His voice shook as he spoke.

“Please what baby?” You mumbled against his skin.

“Fuck…” Colby breathed out as you began to move your hips quicker, “please ride me… I need to be inside you.”

The desperation in Colby’s voice made your clit ache and your entrance drip. You wanted to punish him for the way he’d been acting, but the truth was, you also needed him now. More than anything. You quickly jumped up off him, “boxers off. Now.” You demanded as he nodded, taking them off as quickly as he could. You slid your panties down your legs as you threw them to the side. “Come here.” You said as Colby sat up on the edge of the bed.

You quickly straddled his lap as you felt his dripping tip tease your soaking core. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.” Colby said as he reached his hands up to cup your face. You quickly wrapped one arm around his neck as the other held his dick in place as Colby gasped, feeling your hand around him. You slowly slid down on him, earning groans from the both of your mouths. You began to move up and down on him, as you both groaned out in unison. This was everything you’d both ever dreamed of, if not better. Maybe he was right, maybe you two should risk it all, because damn, so far… it was so fucking worth it. Your speed picked up as Colby kissed along your jaw and down your neck, his hands kneading your breasts as you bounced on top of him. “Fuck y/n… I’m so glad you crack.” Colby spoke between moans.

“Shut the fuck, and make me cum.” You spoke with a forceful tone. Colby loved this side of you. He never thought he would enjoy not having the control for once.

Your head flung back in pleasure as you bounced on his cock and your walls clenched around him, “fuck, yes mam.” Colby said excitedly as he quickly stood up flipping you both over. His dick still exactly where it needed to be.

He wasted no time and began pounding into you, both of you already so close to orgasm after the night you’ve had. “Fuck… Im not gonna last much longer baby.” Colby said as he groaned deeply, he breath shaking from each thrust.

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet,” you demanded as your words made Colby melt and his dick twitch. You grabbed his hand as you moved it towards your clit, “touch me.” You gasped. Desperate to be sent flying over the edge.

Colby didn’t hesitate and as he pounded he rubbed your clit vigorously, your head flying back in pleasure as you moaned louder than ever. “Fuck, that’s it baby.” Colby said as he groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppier by the second as he tried his hardest not to cum.

“Fuck Colby!” You cried out as that familiar knot appeared in your stomach.

“Please baby, cum for me. I can’t hold it any longer.” He begged as moved quicker and deeper, his fingers rubbing quickly as he could.

“Fuckkkk.” You groaned, “now!” You cried out as your orgasm hit you fulled speed and a string of expletives left your mouth mixed with moans.

Colby dick twitched as he called out, “fuck y/n!” His hot cum filling you up as he groaned deeply. His thrusts slowing down as he rode out both of your highs. You both tried to catch your breath as he slowly pulled out of you, his cum following along. He quickly dropped himself, lying next to you on the bed. “Fuck…” you whispered with a smile from ear to ear.

You chuckled, “tell me about it.” Your heart pounded as heat radiated through your body.

Colby turned his head to look at you, “never thought I’d enjoy being a sub so much.”

You laughed looking at the ceiling, “after the shit you pulled tonight…” you turned to look at him, “you’re in for one hell of a night.” You said as you bit your lips.

Colby’s eyes fell wide with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. “Bring it on baby.”

AUTHORS NOTE: I hope you liked it! Remember requests are open! Get them in now! Xx

#sam and colby #smut #fanfiction #colby #colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #propertyofyoutube #colby brock imagines #colbybrock #colby smut #colby x reader #colby brock one shot #colbybrocksmut

53 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 2 months

Text

Love Is A Lie

Summary: After her mothers death, Arina goes from the well-loved daughter of a nobleman to a servant in his home. She dreams of escaping to the coast and making her own way, and when she learns of a ball the King of Avalon is hosting to pick a wife, Arina sees her chance. With a little help from a fairy godmother, Arina agrees to exchange a favor for one night with the King.

But Eris Vanserra has other plans when they meet, and Arina isn't sure she's ready for the consequences of one night dancing at a ball.

Part Two of OUAT series

The sound of heels against stone drew Arina from her reverie. Three days in the dungeons had made her numb to noise—to the moaning, the pleading, and the rattling chains. Unfortunately, it hadn’t numbed her to the smell—coming back to consciousness brought with it the smell of human filth and misery. Turning her head through the gloom, Arina saw the beautiful face of her fairy godmother.

Amarantha.

“Tsk, tsk,” she began, slipping through the bars as though she were made of water. “You were caught.”

Arina turned her head, staring dead-eyed at the wall in front of her. There was no point in pleading with the witch.

“I could free you,” Amarantha continued, snapping her fingers so the barred door that held Arina swung open of its own accord. “Let you try again, if you like?”

Arina didn’t respond.

“Or maybe you failed on purpose. Love,” she spat as though the word tasted foul. “Look where it got you.”

“Just kill me,” she said tonelessly.

“In time, perhaps. I’m not quite finished with you just yet. You did fail me—the prince lives and so, too, does little Elain Archeron. I can’t seem to stay ahead of the little wretch.”

That drew Arina’s attention. What did Elain have to do with all this? Amarantha wasn’t really talking to Arina, merely at her.

“I’m merciful. You still have time to make this right,” Amarantha crooned, turning her attention back toward Arina. Arina shook her head.

“He won’t see me. He hates me.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the rumors. He loved you once, though,” Amarantha said in that syrupy voice of hers. It was as if she wanted to make things better having already destroyed so much. “Perhaps he’d see you if you got on your knees and begged.”

Arina swallowed her revulsion. “Got on my knees only to stab him in the back, you mean?”

“Why not whisper how much you love him right before you press the dagger into his ribs?” Amarantha suggested, revealing the same dagger Eris had taken from her. “Let it be the final words between you.”

“Why this dagger?” Arina questioned, reaching for the jeweled hilt sitting at her bare feet. “Poisoning him would be far easier.”

“Ah, there’s a trick to this blade,” Amrantha told her, delight burning in her beetle black eyes. “It keeps a soul trapped until I have use of them. A king is a useful toy to have in my possession. Now, I want you to take your pretty little self back to his bed and plead with him until he is close enough you can drive this into his body. But just in case you think to defy me…”

Amarantha snapped her fingers and in an instant, heavy, iron shoes were strapped to Arina’s once bare feet. She watched in horror as the metal began to warm, the metal brightening until the heat was overwhelming. Shrieking, she reached to pull them off only to scald her fingertips.

“You like to dance, don’t you? Consider this an incentive. Kill Eris Vanserra or dance for me until I’m no longer amused. Understand?”

Arina nodded, tears streaming down her face. All at once, the metal began to cool, though not quick enough for her liking. She couldn’t move her feet without touching skin to the contraption. “Take these off.”

“Oh, I think I’ll leave them. Just in case,” Amarantha said with a sharp-toothed smile. “I want you to think only of me and just how unpleasant my displeasure will be should you fail me a second time.”

With a snap of her fingers, Amarantha was gone. The door to her cell was still open—as if it mattered. And though Arina’s feet were burned, she was mostly intact. Arina counted her breaths, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her dress as she waited for night to fall.

Minutes felt like days, the hours stretching miserably. With no windows and only the dim torchlight just outside her cell, Arina had no way of telling time. While she waited, Arina picked at the metal shoes that held her feet. There had to be a way out of them, though it felt like the more she tugged, the tighter they adhered to her skin.

Finally, she heard the clipped sound of boots against stone followed by the pale, lined face of the man she’d married. Eris took her in, eyes sweeping her curled form, the dagger balancing on her knees and the iron shoes now strapped against her feet.

“She came?” he whispered, standing in the doorframe.

“Yes,” Arina agreed, biting her lower lip. “She brought me this.”

“Did she explain its importance?”

“It’s imbued with magic…it’ll trap you. This isn’t about you, Eris. It’s about Elain,” she whispered, waiting to see what would happen next. Eris had asked her to trust him and she had, though that had only resulted in her being thrown in the dungeons while he ordered the guards not to speak a word that she was there. He’d get to decide what happened to her and having spent three days alone in the dark, Arina was beginning to wonder if he wouldn’t just kill her after all.

Eris crossed the filthy cell, joining her gingerly on the bench. He was so wildly out of place in his fine clothes.

“Are you hurt?”

Arina wanted to cry. “I’m okay,” she lied, unwilling to tell him the truth. Just in case. Eris reached for her face, sweeping his thumb over her cheek.

“You’re not. But you will be. Are you ready for what comes next?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Eris said, offering Arina his hand. She hesitated before taking it, crying out softly when her injured feet touched the ground. Her knees buckled and the only thing that kept her from slamming to the stone was Eris’s arms. “You are hurt.”

“I’m fine,” she panted, though she pressed her cheek against his chest all the same. It felt good to be touched after days of utter deprivation. In her worst moments, Arina indulged in a fantasy in which Eris just never came back. Sometimes she imagined the speech he’d give in which he’d laugh at her, asking if she genuinely believed he could ever love her.

“You’re not,” Eris whispered, kissing the top of her head. “And I won’t be either if I have to sleep another night alone. This is what she wants, isn’t it? For you to charm me?”

“And then kill you,” Arina reminded him.

“I would gladly die at your hands.”

Arina had to choke back her laughter before it devolved into tears. Maybe Eris recognized it because he murmured, “It’s almost over now.”

Arina didn’t think that was true though there was no point in arguing. Eris led her out of the dungeon, hands tight around her body. If she’d thought there would be a reprieve once they were back in his bedroom, Elain was mistaken. Eris’s brothers were waiting with Elain Vanserra, all of whom looked equally furious. Not at Arina, whom Eris set gently on the bed.

“She means to trap me,” Eris told his brothers softly, taking out the blade to show them.”

“I knew it,” Elain murmured, wrapping her arms around her body. “She knows I’d bargain for your freedom.”

“You won’t,” Eris snarled, whirling on Elain as Connall picked up Arina’s damaged foot to examine the contraption binding her. “This is not the time for heroics.”

“Any soul, right?” Arina murmured as Tanwen sat on her other side. “Including hers?”

“It won’t work,” Eris began, but Lucien’s once serious gaze had brightened.

“It will work,” Lucien breathed, looking at Elain. “She’s not clever—she’ll come to gloat and that’s when we’ll have her. We can trap her until we figure out a way to kill her.”

“What about my sisters?” Elain demanded, rounding on her husband. “They’re still out there and I need to know how to free them.”

“I promise we will,” Lucien said, taking his wife's hands within his own. “I swear it. But for right now, we have to do this.”

“She’ll know—”

“She won’t,” Eris interrupted, turning to look at Arina. “You can do this, can’t you?”

Arina agreed with Elain. Amarantha would suspect a trick, would be prepared to kill them all. What were the odds she and Eris survived? It seemed impossible. Still…maybe it was better to go down trying than it was to lay down and accept defeat. And if there was a chance they could be together, Arina had to take it.

“Do you trust me?” Eris asked, turning the full weight of his amber eyes on her. She saw his hope, his determination.

“Tell me what to do.”

ERIS: Eris felt Arina’s legs straddle his hips. In other circumstances it would have been a dream to know she wanted to be on top of him. Now it was all he could do to keep himself still and quiet and let her work. He could feel her trembling hands, could all but taste her fear. She didn’t think this would work.

Neither did Eris, truthfully. Still, they had to try. The alternative was losing Arina and Eris wasn’t willing to accept that. They were so close. All she had to do was take that knife and cut exactly where he’d told her to. After that, everything was out of their hands.

Eris felt the knife pierce his clothes, felt the warm gush of blood spill against the bed. Arina whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before dropping the knife loudly to the floor just as they’d agreed.

“So sweet,” came a twisted, crooning voice from the dark. Eris didn’t dare move even as Arina scrambled back, her metal clad feet clanking against the marble floors. “If only love was enough to save you. It’s nothing personal.”

Arina cried out, knees buckling as the room illuminated in a sickening, orange glow. Her shoes had ignited in the moments after Amarantha’s arrival, forcing her to either hop foot to foot in some sick kind of dance or frantically try and get them off her feet.

Eris rose from his place in bed, their plan already falling apart.

“Tell me where little Elain Archeron is, and I’ll spare your pretty wife, princeling.”

Eris didn’t dare look at his wife lest he ruin the entire thing. Her death wouldn’t be on his hands. He could play it cool just long enough to free them, if only temporarily. Gesturing absently, he said, “She’s around.”

“Call for her,” Amarantha ordered. Eris heard Arina whimper at his feet and dug his nails against his palms to keep himself from reaching for her. They were so close. Elain could fix this for them—Eris knew it. She’d see the pieces laid before her and she’d make it happen.

So Eris called for her, well aware Elain was merely in the next room surrounded by his brothers. Amarantha must have known it too, because her head turned toward the closet doors before Elain ever emerged.

With one hand resting on her rounded stomach, Elain was the picture of serene grace. Like she hadn’t once survived an attempt on her life by the same witch now standing in front of her. Eris was in hell watching things play out, all the while having to see Arina writhe below, forgotten by everyone but him. How long could her feet remain in that contraption before they were no longer of any use to her?

Grinding his teeth, Eris forced himself to remain where he was, still bloodied from the blade before. Of course the blood was fake—but it was only ever meant to lure Amarantha to him. She wanted Eris dead but not so badly she couldn’t resist trying to get Elain back, too. Her hubris would be her undoing, though Eris wasn’t fool enough to think they’d manage anything but containing the witch today.

“Look at you,” Amarantha breathed, ignoring the way the metal around Arina’s feet glowed orange. Eris and Elain met each others gaze in the dark, her resolve unmistakable even as she jutted out her bottom lip and held her stomach protectively.

Was Lucien losing his mind behind the door? Eris thought he understood how his brother must feel. If he had to wait another minute, someone was going to die.

Probably him.

“You’ve been busy,” Armantha breathed, her focus wholly on Elain. “You look ready to burst.”

“What do you want?” Elain asked, adjusting her stance in an attempt to look threatening. She failed—miserably—but Amarantha wasn’t looking at Arina on the floor. The witch didn’t see how Arina’s fingers curled around that dagger, sliding it slowly across the floor where Eris was able to catch it beneath the toe of his boot.

“What do I want?” Amarantha cackled, throwing her head back so her blood red hair cascaded like a river of blood down her back. With her attention on Elain, Eris crouched as slowly as he dared, eyes locked with his wife. If he failed, they’d all die here and his kingdom would crumble to ruins. His heart swam in his stomach as ice flooded up his spine, causing his fingers to tremble ever so slightly.

They would succeed, he told himself, if only because they had to.

“If you leave them alone, I’ll give it to you,” Elain breathed, causing Lucien to finally emerge from behind the door, hand on his blade.

“No!” Lucien interrupted, causing just enough of a commotion that no one caught Eris rise to his feet, blade in hand. “No, Elain—”

“Let the girl speak!” Amarantha ordered, wholly focused on Elain in front of her. What did she imagine she could get? What kind of twisted bargain was she working in her mind? Elain inched closer to Eris and he knew right then what Elain wanted.

Retribution for the pain and suffering she’d experienced. For what they’d all been through. He reached for her, pulling her back to his chest so she could reach for the dagger concealed in his other hand. Elain’s fingers also trembled though no part of her expression waivered.

“What about my child?” Elain suggested as Lucien surged forward again. This time Amarantha flicked her fingers, throwing his brother roughly against the far wall.

“You’d give me your unborn baby in exchange for this man's life?”

“For everyone's life,” Elain whispered, her eyes on Amarntha. The witch stood facing Lucien, her back half-turned to Elain. All they needed was one more diversion from his brother and they could make their move. “I can have more children.”

“Your first two children,” Amarantha crooned. “There are twins in there.”

Lucien moaned, pushing himself to his feet. “Elain, this is madness. They’re our babies—”

“We can have more,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. Eris nearly believed Elain’s grief. “You want them both?”

Amarantha’s joy was obscene. “Yes. Both your babes, in exchange for the lives in this room.”

There was a trick to her words—some game they were all missing. Arina whimpered, dragging herself closer to Eris while trying desperately not to touch her skin against the scalding metal contraptions.

“No!” Lucien roared, running forward to head butt Amarantha. It was the distraction they needed. The witch turned her attention toward Eris’s brother just as Elain stepped forward and buried her blade in Amarantha’s neck. The witch let out a blood curdling laugh, head thrown back even as blood began to pour from the wound.

“Foolish girl,” she hissed, the words gurgled from her mouth. “Now you’ll never find the eldest.”

Still holding her dagger, Elain leaned forward. “I’ll find her and when we’re reunited, we’ll be back to kill you.”

“We shall see,” Amarantha replied, her edges fading into the room. It took another moment before the knife Elain held clattered to the floor, leaving only a pool of blood behind.

“Get these off me,” Arina whispered, prompting the room into a flurry of movement. Lucien reached for Elain, pulling her into his body as she cried into his chest, swearing she would never have given up their unborn children.

The metal burned Eris’s fingertips badly, but in the end he managed to get them off Arina’s feet and haul her up into his arms before Elain ever finished apologizing.

“That dagger doesn’t leave my sight,” Eris ordered, nodding at Elain to put it on his side table while he set Arina gently to the bed. “Holy fucking gods.”

“Everyone is okay,” Elain murmured, but Eris wasn’t having it.

“Get out,” he added. It had been days since he’d last seen his wife.

And he wanted to talk to her.

#erina #i know i know- ive been avoiding everyone asking if im okay #im not okay but im alive

78 notes · View notes

youn9racha · 2 years

Text

URMUSE.COM

pairing: sex worker!chan x afab client!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: your friends pity you for your lack of sex life and constant sexual frustration, so one of them offered a program where one could possibly make your fantasy a reality.

warning/disclaimer: chan is referred to as chris/christopher, mentions of sex work, "anonymous"/masked sex, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), whiny and shy sub!chan, insecure dom!reader, slight auralism/voice kink, oral sex, restraints, slight cum play, mentions of dacryphilia and cnc, edging, discussions of safe words (but not used), mentions of poly!minho and open relationships, labels (mistress/pup/good boy/etc.), praise, some cock slapping, felix being a flirt, reader goes by she/her, straight up porn with a little bit of a plot (but not really).

words: 5.5k

a/n: heavily inspired by that one thought i had and also @h0neydewmoon encouraged me with this filth so that’s that. i haven’t written straight up pwp in a bit, i didn’t really intend to make another chan smut (especially since most my work is chan related) but here we are once again. also, i'm sorry if there are some inaccuracies to anything when it comes to subjects of sex work. i tried my best to research, but if there's any inaccuracy, please respectfully call me out on it and i'll fix it up, but otherwise this is fictional so hope thats okay🙏🙏

taglist: @ethereallino, @h0neydewmoon, @lix-ables, @nightlychans

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

The nightlife was soaring outside your apartment complex, you could almost hear the techno music blaring outside as the active night parties illuminates the futuristic city you live in. Skyscrapers project exciting ads and trailers mixing with the sounds of laughs and singing livened the city. It wasn’t like there was a holiday or anything of that sort, it was a regular weekend for everyone—it’s commonly known as the nights of the youngs as proclaimed by the party locals.

but you couldn’t be bothered to participate the night, unfortunately, as you sigh away your misery on Hyunjin’s thighs as you vent about your sex life, while your other friend, Minho, and Hyunjin just nod at your frustration as they listen attentively to you. You weren’t necessarily a prude or a virgin; you just happened to have bad luck when it comes to hooking up. It is ironic how you live in the city of parties yet have no game in the hooking up scene.

It wasn’t that you were against it, or afraid of people; you were merely scared of your fantasies and the judgments you would get. You never really had the safest concept in terms of what happens in the bedrooms, and you almost always happen to stay behind the rails to not scare away whoever your sex partner is. While you acknowledge that you don’t live in an era where expressing yourself was a sin, you still must be cautious about certain triggers one could have.

Minho and Hyunjin were very understanding and often try to let you know that there’s nothing with expressing yourself, but you were still very shy and maintained a shell tough to crack.

“How about we do it for you? I’m sure Hyunjin’s down for a threesome,” Minho once commented making you cringe at his statement and Hyunjin just widened his eyes at him shocked at the abrupt comment. You could never see yourself in that situation. Yes, the two men are good-looking and are—in your humble opinion—fuckable men for a lack of a better word, but you still can’t put yourself in friends with benefits situation with either.

And even if you didn’t care for that situation and the offer was up, it wasn’t like it’s going to do you any solid because Minho was in a committed relationship, and you weren’t about to be a homewrecker of a friend, meanwhile, Hyunjin was sort of “holding himself back” or whatever that meant. Either way, you wouldn’t take either in a heartbeat, no matter how desperate you may be; like how you are right now.

“(y/n), there is many fish in the sea who are willing to go through whatever kinks you’re into,” Minho said, speaking as if he was stating a common fact, while Hyunjin agrees as he twirls your hair, “yeah, you’re also really attractive, I feel like anyone would give you a pass,” Hyunjin adds.

You shook your head, “no, I can’t, I’m scared to make one freak out from my elaborate fantasies.”

“C’mon, I bet they’re not bad,” Hyunjin said, you got up and looked up at Hyunjin, “would you fuck someone to the point they’d start tearing up and telling you to stop but you still carry on either way because their helpless cries turn you on?”

Hyunjin just widened his eyes, attempting to process your questions as he stumbles and huffs out an answer.

“I would,” Minho affirms.

“You have a partner, Lino.” You grumbled, throwing your head back.

“So?” Minho crosses his arms, “we don’t mind having a plus one if you get my drift.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll find someone.” Hyunjin side-eyed Minho, before proceeding to comfort you. Minho could only knit his eyebrows at the two of you as he sits there uncertain before rolling his eyes, “alright fine, I actually have something that could help you two, but since you two—”

“Minho, no one’s interested in joining your open relationship,” Hyunjin argued back, while you face palmed yourself, knowing the headache that may come with the upcoming altercation that will ensue. Minho retorted back at Hyunjin and insisted that it wasn’t about his relationship, and this time he sounded more serious than previously.

“It’s this place called URMUSE. It’s where you basically fill out a form and you tell them what you like and then they book a room for you there to live out your fantasy with your desired ‘muse’. It’s like Disney world but for grown-ups.”

Hyunjin’s cringed-out expression deepened, thinking you’d react the same, but unbeknownst to him, you were slightly intrigued, hoping he’d carry further on with information. You never would have thought you’d resort to that level, but desperate calls call for desperate measures as one would say.

“Really, Minho? First off, never call a place like that ‘Disney world’ again. And second, you really think (y/n) would actually—”

“How do I get the reservation?” You interrupted Hyunjin, making the man astonished by your choice of interest.

Hyunjin knew you longer than Minho did, but to say you’d be down to go to a sex worker was a surprise to him, even Minho was slightly taken aback by your excitement—although he didn’t mind it. Hyunjin however was rather baffled by your abruption. It wasn’t that you were against the whole sex work thing, it was just not something you don’t about often, and you three knew this. But you were really desperate to let your demons, and what better way to take out your sexual frustration is on someone who’s an expert with these things?

“(y/n), are you serious?” Hyunjin asked, and you nodded at him, “yes, Hyunjin, I’m grown, I can make my decision.” With that, Hyunjin closed his open mouth, as if he wanted to say something but went against it before turning to his other friend.

“Now can you tell me more about the site?”

It had been a week since that encounter with Minho and Hyunjin and your mind is still at war on whether going to the site and getting a ‘muse’ was a good idea or not. While you were excited and up for it at first, you still drew yourself back as your self-doubts began acting up again. What if this place didn’t provide what you asked? What if it was a time and money waster and didn’t live up to your expectation? What if Minho is actually dragging you into a sex cult and you didn’t know?

The last question was farfetched, sure, but you wouldn’t know. You hate how you had to question everything and place yourself in a shell when it comes to sexual expression. You knew you weren’t going to get judged, but your mind constantly plays with your head with topics like this, by convincing you that you were a freak and a maniac for enjoying what you’re enjoying.

“Why would anyone like to get tied up or tying someone up? That’s some kidnapper shit,” your brain constantly teases you. But you knew you weren’t, you hear Minho’s experience with his partner—or partners—and Hyunjin’s past sexual experiences, and you couldn’t help but secretly get jealous of your friends for being carefree about their needs. Sure, they’re both men, and oftentimes nobody will bat an eyelash if a man expresses any sexual needs, but there is no time for commentary on this matter—you want to be railed or rail someone.

You sighed as you opened your computer and started to type away on your search engine, you muttered to yourself what you were typing and opened the first link that popped up.

“URMUSE—THE PLACE WHERE ALL YOUR FANTASIES COME TRUE!”

What an eerie welcome, you thought to yourself as you read the slogan. You scrolled away and inspected their whole site. You thought that the site was legit; it had easy-to-read sections, provides information about the muses and important guidelines, and the site seemed like it was like you were reserving for paradise rather than an organized brothel—it even carried reviews.

You seemed convinced enough to hover your mouse down to the “find your muse” option and clicked and the link opened to a form; just like how Minho described it. Minho knew about this site because he used to be an active member and was even offered to work there as their muse only for him to reject as he wasn’t interested, which adds to the authenticity of this place. Now you were staring at the form in front of you, waiting for it to be filled.

“This is more intimidating than college application… guess here goes nothing.” You sighed before typing away your information and your preferences.

After filling out the form, you received an email from the place in the most eerily warming with an exciting letter that was graphically designed from them which says;

Hey there, (y/n)

We’re so excited for your first time at URMUSE, we welcome you full of joy and excitement. Based on your application and the preference you have given to us, we have booked you a session with our popular muse, Christopher, to help you fulfill your fantasy. If you’re interested in changing your muse or would like to make a change, just contact us at xx-xxx-xxxx.

You practically stopped reading as you were not interested in any change, you have paid your price and the date was given from when you go and have your time there. You have told the news to both of your best friends, only for you to get mixed reactions.

Minho was ecstatic, he was glad that you took his advice, and followed through with what he said, hoping you have the time of your life, “yay! I can’t wait for the stories, oh and make sure you tip them well if they did a good job, they’ll highly appreciate it!”

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was apprehensive. It wasn’t that he was against you doing this, he was just unsure if this is the right way to do it. He is no angel; he himself did go to brothels similar to URMUSE but he just thought you’d be overwhelmed by the environment and was worried you were going to regret it, “I’m not telling you to not go, especially since you’ve paid, but I’m telling you to watch yourself…”

While responses were different, still you sensed their caring nature, especially since both were adamant about calling them if someone tried to hurt you or something, but either way, you reassured them and you appreciated their thoughtfulness.

Fast forward to the date, it was finally that time to meet up with your muse and hopefully not be disappointed or judged by him. From the time you got the email, you wanted to research this Christopher guy, you knew he was popular but you didn’t want to see his face as you didn’t want it to tamper with your fantasy that you may embark in. You asked Minho if he can do it for you without showing you what he looks like, and he gladly accepted to help.

While in a facetime call, you see Minho creating a bunch of facial expressions, mainly an impressed expression based on his smirk, his raised eyebrows, and the way he pushed out his bottom lips.

“What?” You asked, brows knitted as Minho chuckles at the screen he was seeing and shakes his head, “oh boy, (y/n), you’re one lucky bitch.”

“What?!” you dragged out as you repeated

“Well, you said you don’t want details, but from what I can see, your boy Christopher? He’s—he’s a good one,” Minho said, trying to make it as vague as he can, which made you regret asking him to do the research in front of you as now your curiosity was practically pushing you further on going against your plans.

However, thankfully you eased yourself with it and didn’t let temptation win you over, especially since the date wasn’t far from the email you have gotten. Now you were on your way to the place for your session. Minho and his partner suggested that you should wear lingerie, be minimal with the make-up, and most importantly have fun. They also mentioned that the place also offers safe names so make sure you mention it at some point. You just had to keep a lot of mental notes before going in there.

Your taxi was driving you there, but not exactly at the place, but rather somewhere close. Once again, you let your insecurity eat you up when it comes to sex, shaming yourself for going to such a place, and being scared to be judged. It was too late to back down anyway, so you just accepted it, but you still hoped the ride would be done and over with, so you wouldn’t have to look at the poor taxi man in the face.

Once arriving, you paid your driver, and you were out of the car. Once you were sure the driver was gone, you walked in the direction of the place until you found the sign that made you eye up at it. The red cursive logo sign made it seem like it was a nightclub rather than what you thought would be a kin to a love hotel, however you didn’t let it drive you away and walked in there. You walked in and you saw a beautiful, blonde boy standing behind the counter, he maintained the prettiest smile as well as had the most radiant aura you have ever seen on a boy, you weren’t sure whether to feel small and intimidated or thirst over him just right where you stand.

“Hi, welcome to URMUSE, this is Felix, how am I help you?” The pretty boy behind the counter, Felix, spoke. You thought his cute presence was very contradicting to the vulgar environment he is in, but you can’t really judge him as you don’t know him well enough to confirm.

“Uh, hi, um,” you stammered nervously, “I have an appoint—I mean a reservation with my muse—I mean Christopher! Under the name (y/n).” you mentally face palmed yourself for what you thought was being an idiot, but Felix seems to think otherwise as he chuckles lightly.

“This is your first time right?” He asked, with a smile, however, the warmth in his smile contradicts the eyes he had as he examined your nervous being before going back to the computer to check for your name.

“Uh, yeah, y’know, just trying out new things and expanding my horizons and stuff,” you nervously rambled, once again mentally slapping yourself for making a fool of yourself, which amuses Felix rather than turns him off. “You’re so cute, you know that?” he comments. Which made you blush at the sudden comment, unsure whether he was being genuine or not, but either way, it was a confidence booster, and you took it anyway.

“Ugh, what a shame,” Felix pouted, making you frown, “you do have an appointment with Chris, ugh, he’s so lucky, can’t help but be jealous.”

To say Felix’s comment made your heart drop would be an understatement, but you weren’t sure if it was him leaving you off guard by pretending that the reservation was not there, or him telling you that he wanted to be in Christopher’s place, either way, so far, you were glad you’ve spent your money on this.

“Oh well, how about you follow me right this way, yeah?” Felix raised his hand in the direction of the hallway. You only smiled back at him politely as you two walked into the bright red hallway that had wooden maroon doors on each side with numbers written on the side with red or green lights radiating out of the panel, presumably to indicate the availability of the rooms.

“Are the walls soundproof?” You randomly asked as you two continued to walk down the quiet hallway. Felix smirked as he turned his head to you, “would you like the walls to be soundproof?” his deep voice was sultry when the question escaped his lips, you couldn’t help but feel weak at the response. Christopher has some serious competition, and Felix hasn’t even done anything remotely sexual.

“Umm…”

“Here we are,” Felix announced as he stops his footsteps and you bump into him, making you apologize profusely to him. “Don’t worry, this is probably the only time I’ll be this close to you,” he softly spoke, as he held your face and dragged his finger across your jaw, making you gulp at the physical and eye contact.

Felix turned as he opens the door by pressing the keypad on the handle and takes your hand inside the room. The door opened to a room with an interesting yet organized interior design. The room was big for what it seemed; silk black bedsheets in a queen-sized bed, a dark auburn wall-to-ceiling closet, a soothing yet arousing shade of red painted on the wall along with simple yet aesthetically appealing accessories and paintings on the wall.

Felix held your shoulders to help you take off your coat and hung it up for you before he sat you down in the bed. He held up your face as a farewell before speaking, “it has been nice chatting with you, I wish I could have you for myself but I guess we can’t have what we want,” he smirks as he looks up and your face, “hopefully you’ll love it here, so I could see you again, but for now, I have to go. Have fun…”

“Chris, she’s all yours!” Felix looked up as he announces and he walks out of the room. You were now sitting at the bed, unsure of what to do right now, and just awaiting Christopher to come in.

“Hello?”

You jumped up as you looked around to find the source but you cannot find who it is, so you assumed it was just your voice playing around with you until you hear the voice again.

“Are you (y/n)? Can you hear me?”

The voice had a similar accent to that of Felix, while his voice wasn’t deep as his, it was still a pleasant voice. it had this gentle yet masculine voice that was soothing to listen to and you were in for it. But still, you couldn’t see the source of the voice, and confusion increased by the second.

“Y-yes, this is me, is this Christopher?” you called out still looking around the room.

You hear his soft laughter emanating in the room, making you knit your brows, “oh gosh, (y/n), you’re so cute, are you sure you want me to call you mistress?”

As soon as he mentioned mistress, everything started to connect the dot. You remembered when you filled out the form, you stated that you enjoyed the whole anonymity that comes with it along with wanting to try out to dominate someone who may seem physically virile and muscular, so you’d hope to see what they can offer, and so far you’re intrigued seeing how he has yet to reveal himself and is speaking into a microphone that blares beautifully in the room you’re staying in.

Your demeanor seemed to change, especially since Christopher didn’t seem bothered by your request, as you place your arms behind you and smirked, “Christopher, are you about to act up on me already?” You responded, now leveling yourself on his.

He laughs, gosh his laugh was too attractive you thought to yourself, “just wanted to make sure if I’m talking to the same mistress, and also…”

He paused his words and then you hear the door open from your right side and you looked at whoever walked in, and your jaw dropped, “You can call me, Chris or Chan… or baby, or pup, or whatever you want to call me,” he proceeded, you can make out that he was smiling as he was speaking.

Your eyes panned at the robbed yet evidently well-built masked man. The lower half of his face was covered by a balaclava, showcasing only his onyx brown eyes and his chestnut curly hair. Even though he hasn’t shown his full face, you can still clearly tell he was attractive just based on his eyes and his facial structure, which was simultaneously concealing and accentuating his cheekbones and jaw.

You admired him, as he walked up to you and got down on his knees, and got his large and veiny hands on your exposed legs, lightly gripping and massaging your thighs underneath your skirt, his fingers barely touching your core. Your breath hitched at the sensation, while Chris just eyes you up with glimmering puppy eyes.

“I’m all yours, mistress… please take me.”

It felt like it was more than an hour since you and Chris had interacted when in actuality it had been less than twenty minutes. You two briefly talked about rules and precautions, deciding to follow the traffic light system if anything were to happen to either of you, mainly you. After that discussion has ended your insecure, overthinking self has been completely replaced with a self-righteous, domme who has already in just panties and tied up a naked Chris, who was whimpering at the lack of touch from you after you stopped stroking his cock after he told you that he was close.

“Aw, what a good boy, being vocal to mistress,” you praised as you pushed his hair back, his whines were loud but slightly muffled by the mask on his lips. He nodded as he croaks, “anything for you,” his high-pitched whines were brought back up as you started to fist his cock but this time you got closer to his cock, the smirk on your face painted with villainy, “hey.”

Chris let out a closed whimper as he looks down on you, despite his hand being tied. You made eye contact with his eyes as you continued to move your hand, “you better keep your eyes on me, got it, pup?”

He nods through his sobs, and one thing led to another, your mouth was wrapped around his precum-slicked cock, making him let out a broken moan as the feeling of your mouth around him was so warm and so pleasant. His stomach sinks at the sensation as he cries about how good you feel, all the while he tries his best to keep eye contact with you.

“Oh my fucking go—mistress, your mouth feels so—ah, fuck,” his words were broken by his moans, to the point he accidentally broke eye contact when he threw back his head to moan out loud. He suddenly lost the warm feeling of your mouth and instead, he felt a sharp slap to his sensitive organ, making him yelp and wince, his hand gripped the rope, that was tied to his wrist, tightened.

“I told you to not lose contact,” you sternly spoke as you began pinching his thighs, making him jump and arch his back while crying out strings of apologies.

“I’m sorry, mistress, I’m sorry,” he sobs out, “please, just please, pup needs your mouth, please.”

You wanted to punish him but you found his pleadings so adorable, the way his eyes were getting glossy by your edging and the way you were pinching and slapping him. While you enjoyed the masked face and wanted him to keep it on, seeing how cute he sounds and how his eyes were mesmerizing to you, you can’t help but wanna pull down the balaclava and see his face fully.

“pup, is it okay if I took your mask down and ride your face?”

His skin reddened, and you could tell he was nervous and apprehensive, so you thought he didn’t want to and wanted to carry on with the mask. “It’s okay if you don’t—”

“No! No! it’s not that, I’m just… shy,” he revealed, and you couldn’t help but find him even more adorable than before. You’re unsure if he was acting or being genuine, but either way, his sex appeal grew to the sky in your opinion. You grabbed the lower part of his balaclava, him lifting his head to help you remove it from his head, and when his face was fully revealed, you couldn’t be even more enamored by his face even more. His lips were red and plump, his cheeks were speckled with freckles and red flushness, and his nose protruded out attractively.

“Wow,” you breathed out as you threw his mask away, making him sink down into the mattress of the bed and look away shyly. You pulled his face by his chin to make him look at you, “if I knew you had this face, I definitely would never have made the masked request… You are so pretty, Chris.”

Your compliment made Chris smile shyly and giggle, “thank you, mistress…”

You chuckled through your breath as you got off, making Chris wander your eyes silently pleading to get back on him only to see you remove your panties. You crawled back into Chris and placed your thighs between his head and looked back down at him, “Want to taste, mistress?”

He didn’t say anything aside from excitedly nodding at your question and licking his lips. You smirked at his excitement before slowly sliding yourself down until Chris began devouring you from below making you gasp at how active his tongue was. You were taken aback by the pleasant feeling of his tongue and the way it touched all the spots you wanted to touch, especially when your grinding away at his face. His nose would make contact with your clit, especially when he moves his head along with your hips, trying to catch every flavor of you.

You gripped his hair as you were moaning at the good feeling Chris was giving you, so much so, that you felt your lower belly heating up. “God, pup, you love making mistress feel good, right?” you sighed out your words before moaning.

Chris just moaned as a response along with tasting the nectar you’re giving him like he was thirsty for it. You threw your head back as your hip movements were becoming more sloppy and messy as you felt the heat bubbling up, and as much as you wanna come all over the pretty boy’s face, you decide against it, so you pulled his hair as you got off his face, making him chase for your juices before gasping for air and looking at you.

“You did so well for mistress… I think pup’s ready for me, is that right?” you asked as you were creating anticipation and Chris did a good job at pretending to be desperate, especially with the way he excitedly nodded and just chanted “yes, yes,” with a bunch of whines. You were so deep in, that you completely forgot that you were dealing with a professional, but you didn’t care, you want to relish in the whole experience no matter what way.

You gasped at the feeling of his cock stretching you, bringing you to utmost bliss. He whined at the feeling of your velvet and warming walls being filled and your hips moving around it. The movement was intense when it comes to the pace and depth of this session was getting, with you two praising each other based on your respective roles.

While this wasn’t the first Chris has ever been in the submissive role in his taboo career, he wasn’t really into most of the roleplays and positions he was given, but he had to do it as this was his job either way, but either way, he doesn’t seek submissive roles often. However, when your application came in and was offered to him, he was at first against it as he doesn’t want to do another submissive role, but for some reason, he had a change of heart and decided to do it—especially since you had paid extra more than asked for the hour, who would say no to that? Chris thought to himself.

He was glad that you failed his expectation, as the way of delivery, albeit a rocky start, was phenomenal in his opinion. You absolutely were one of the few doms and dommes he seemed to enjoy being with thus far, he was highly impressed by you if anything.

He looked up at you, heavy breathing as her movements began speeding up, his knuckles turning white with the way he’s pulling on the ropes, and her fingernails scratches on his defined pectorals. Your combined moans were echoing loudly in the room, had it not for Felix telling you that the walls were not soundproof, you would have brought your insecure self back. But even so, you wouldn’t have cared at the moment as you and Chris felt good about being around each other.

“oh, fuck! Chris—pup, I’m so fucking close,” you shuddered your words as the heat in your lower belly was getting overwhelming. You assume Chris was not far behind either due to the whine he just slipped out, so you encouraged him to come with her.

“You can come with, pup, it’s okay, you ready?”

Chris nodded before he mewled as you moved faster so you could reach high. And long after, you came around him, cursing out at how good you felt, but you sensed that Chris hasn’t orgasmed yet so you slipped yourself out and began stroking him instead. While your hands were incomparable, Chris couldn’t deny how good he felt, and with the pace you were going and the pressure you exerted, you wounded out milking him as he came all over his stomach and chest while sobbing and shaking at his orgasm, especially when you overstimulated him.

“Mmm—mistress,” his whines were so high-pitched as he teared up and hiccuped at how overpowering the extra strokes you gave him. His silent pleads to stop were answered as you saw how much he covered himself with his white cum and you couldn’t help just licking some of it off, while Chris was trying to catch his breath. He tasted salty but not too overpowering where it was gross, you couldn’t help but wonder if he has drunk enough pineapple or something, but either way, you couldn’t get enough.

However, you got to your senses and stopped licking him, as you looked at him wide-eyed. You couldn’t believe you just tired the poor tied-up man, you thought.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, concern laced as you tapped his shoulders, making him laugh as a response.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He responded back with a smile as he looked at the restraints, hoping you would untie him, which you instantly did. He groaned in glee once again as he freed his wrists out of the ropes, stretching them out.

You didn’t know why but you felt like apologizing only for him to shake his head, “there is nothing to be sorry for, after all my job was to help you fulfill your fantasy… which I hope I did.”

“Oh yeah you definitely did a good job, and I would definitely rate you a five star and tip you!”

Chris’s face lit up with a smile, “I’m so glad to hear that, I also had really fun, I don’t often do submissive roles, but I’m glad I got to do with it you.” His words seemed genuine and you didn’t know how to react so you ended up feeling flustered once again.

“Well, I tried…” You mumbled making both of you laugh.

After cleaning up and tipping, you two left outside the door, stating your farewells.

“Well, it’s been fun, I’m really glad you enjoyed your experience, you already know me, so don’t be shy to drop by to y’know… destress,” Chris cheerfully spoke with a smile. He was too charming and you couldn’t help but admire him once again, especially when he was back in his robe with his chest revealed. He extended his arms for an embrace, which took you by surprise, but you were far from uncomfortable. Despite the previous activities, he smelled oddly good, like musk for some reason, you couldn’t get away from it.

He pulled away from you, and he rubbed your arms with a smile before letting them go, “I’ll see you, yeah?”

You nodded back and there you two went your separate ways. You saw Felix still standing behind the counter, his eyes still on you, and he asked about your experience. You raved everything to him and told him that this won’t be the last time he’ll be seeing you for sure.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it here, and I wish to see you,” he says as he leans closer to your ears to whisper, “but ask for me next time, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but be stunned at his last phrase, while he leans back and smiles at you. “Hope we can see you again, (y/n).”

Yeah, definitely… You’ll see me here again… I have to call Minho and Hyunjin.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids fics #stray kids fanfic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #skz fics #skz imagines #skz oneshots #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan imagine #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fics #bang chan fanfic

1K notes · View notes

kittenofdoomage · 1 year

Text

A Bargain Struck

Summary: Inspired by this post on Tumblr and the lovely @angryschnauzer. You’ve struck a bargain with something unholy, and now he wants his due.

Pairing: demonic!Geralt x female!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, demonic rituals, selling souls, everyone’s over the age of 18, this is a sort of medieval AU, use of horns for leverage during sex, transformations during sex, probably a lot of blasphemy?, it’s filth yet fluffy? Soft!Geralt is definitely a thing here. Let’s get weird. Uh, size kink, wing kink, demonic tongue fucking, definitely monsterfucking.

Ao3 Link

A/N: I was too excited to share this one with everyone. I know @deandoesthingstome wanted a tag (I think anyway, I didn't hallucinate that, right?) but haven't tagged anyone else to read. Let me know what you think, in gif form or otherwise!

She can’t help but feel joy when her sister, younger than her by only a few years, bursts through the door of their cottage, laughing as Dotty nips at the hem of her dress. It is a relatively new sight to behold, to see Emily filled with such life, when only weeks before she had been expected to die. “The moon, Y/N, did you see it?” she gasps, coming to a stop at the table, leaning on it with her hands to stare out of the window. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’ve seen,” Y/N replies, turning away from her sibling so she doesn’t see the worry in her eyes. It’s a blood moon, huge and pinkish red, filling the horizon in a stunningly clear sky. You have until midnight at the blood moon, he had said, the formless voice in the darkness that had granted her wish for her sister to live. She knew the price when she sought him out; it was clear in the ritual. Her sister’s life for her soul, bound to him for eternity.

A price she would gladly pay again.

“You’re quiet,” Emily murmurs, pulling out a chair as Dotty jumps around her. “What are you making?”

“Venison pie for supper. And I’m just concentrating.” The pastry around the edges of her creation are not playing ball, and they need to be perfect. This is her last meal with her family, and she intends to savor every moment of it. “Would you mind setting the table?”

She’s spent the last three weeks worrying if they will cope without her. He had given her assurances of a long happy life, but the what ifs and maybes still linger, nibbling at her thoughts until she was consumed with anxiety over it.

Emily hums as she gathers the dishes and cutlery for dinner, making Y/N smile as she finally gets the pastry to behave. The oven billows out a plume of hot air when she tugs the door open, and she shoves the pie in. “There we go,” she mutters, wiping the grease off of her hands onto her apron. “It should be ready when Mother gets home.”

“She’s still at the church?” her sister asks.

Chuckling, Y/N locates her cup of tea, happy to find it still warm enough to drink. “Well, your recovery was nothing short of miraculous,” she sighs. “Mother just thinks she needs to pay Him back.” She could have told her, of course, but their mother had always fallen on the more devout side of religious, and she didn’t think any good could come of confessing her deal with the devil, or something like him at the very least. The last thing she needed is to be locked up for being a witch - if she wasn’t there to pay the price, he could take back what he’d given, and she would not let that happen.

The cottage fills with the scent of the pie as it cooks. Y/N prepares the vegetables, listening to Emily chat about her day, wiping away an errant tear as she soaks in her sister’s excitement and zest for life. She wishes dearly that she could be there to see her grow and learn, maybe get married and have children, and hates even more that she won’t be. As the time to say goodbye creeps closer, she feels her nerves churning into an uncomfortable ball that sits in her belly, filling her with dread.

Their mother comes home just as they are plating up the meal, and the conversation revolves around her day at the church. She makes them say a prayer before supper, though Y/N keeps one eye open because she’s certain no prayer or God can save her from what she’s giving herself to.

As her family continues to chatter obliviously, she tries to keep her focus on them, to enjoy the moments she has left with them. Emily is talking about a local boy she has a crush on, and Y/N feels her heart in her throat when her mother asks if she will be going to the market in the morning.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” she mumbles, cheeks rapidly warming. “How’s the pie?”

“Wonderful as always,” her mother replies. “I don’t know where you get your cooking skills from, certainly not me.” The joke is supposed to make her smile but Y/N only feels regret that she’s leaving them.

“You’re a good cook too,” Emily insists, grinning at her sister who manages a weak curve of her lips.

She’s trying so hard not to show her grief. She should be happy. Her sister will live a full and happy life. Y/N couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

Dinner is over quickly, and once everything is cleared away, Y/N looks out of the window. The moon is a deeper shade of red now, hanging ominously over the trees in the distance. It’s bright enough that the whole valley is bathed in an eerie crimson, and she shudders as she looks towards the forest and the darkness waiting to greet her.

She still has time. Her sister is already in front of the fire, needlework in hand, humming again like she is prone to do since her recovery. Their mother reads, glasses perched on the end of her nose to make her look far older than she is, and Y/N smiles as she sits between them, letting the warmth of the firelight wash over her.

“You should take the rest of those apples to the market tomorrow,” Mother says quietly, and she nods, even though she knows she’ll never go to market again. The apples will probably rot in the basket.

The night draws on. Mother retires first, kissing her firstborn on the top of the head as she passes, before taking Emily’s hand and looking at her fondly. Y/N watches her go with a heavy ache in her heart, wishing she could say goodbye, and not just leave them without resolution.

“You’re still being quiet,” Emily observes, putting her needlework away. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a second where she’s not sure what to say. She can see herself spilling the truth, dragging a promise from her little sister that she would live her life, fall in love, do all the things Y/N would never get to do. But she can’t say it because then Emily would know, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her sister carrying the weight of that guilt forever.

Sitting up, she smiles, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says, getting up to take over the seat their mother had vacated.

Emily watches her for a moment longer, obviously deciding whether to prod at the subject. When she makes her choice, she sighs, rising from the chair. “Well, I’m tired too, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.” She turns, then pauses before crossing the room to lean down and press a kiss to her sister’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispers, tears in her eyes. If the younger woman notices, she doesn’t say anything, quickly retreating and leaving her sibling alone.

She waits a while, watching the fire die out until there are only a few embers remaining. Once the red glow fades, she gets to her feet, making her way to her mother’s room first, and she finds her in a deep slumber, one arm slung over the edge of her bed. With a smile, Y/N pulls the door shut, moving to the next, and Emily is asleep too. She lingers for a second, wishing once more that she could say goodbye, but time is running thin, so she closes the door and moves on.

It didn’t seem worth the effort to take anything with her, and it’s easier to move silently with just her cloak. She fastens it at her throat and makes her way out of the cottage, careful to lock the door behind her, slipping the key into her pocket through habit - it’s unlikely she’ll need it again. Pulling her hood up, she walks away from the village and towards the forest, keeping her footsteps light and quick. Her cloak catches on the undergrowth as it gets thicker, and soon she’s picking her way along the narrow path between the trees, feeling more anxious as the darkness crowds her. Further along, the trees are so dense that the moonlight cannot penetrate their leaves and she has to slow to avoid tripping on unseen hazards.

Her destination isn’t all that far. The ground grows steeper, and she has to be more careful as she searches for the ruins in the dark. It helps that she has walked this path before, when she made her bargain, and she knows she’s there when she finds the first stone, stuck upright in the ground with strange symbols she traces with her fingers.

The ruins are empty and dark. Huge stones mark the circle, with some lying flat in the middle, almost like an altar. She doesn’t know what they once were but she can feel the electricity in the air, taste it like iron on her tongue.

“Hello?” she calls in a shaky uncertain voice. It must be nearly midnight; if she looks up, she can see the moon high above the trees. The wind rushes around her, and she shivers, tugging her cloak closed. “Are you here?”

Everything falls silent. A twig snaps, and she spins, peering into the dark thicket of trees between two of the largest stones. She’s about to call again as two golden eyes suddenly become visible, and instinct makes her pull back.

“Hello?” she whispers this time. For some strange reason, she doesn’t feel afraid, just apprehensive and uncertain in the face of something so unholy.

“You are ready to finish our bargain.”

She casts her gaze back the way she came, sorrow heavy in her heart. “I am.”

“The price was agreed,” he murmurs, golden eyes shining in the darkness surrounding him. “Yet I see tears in your eyes. Do you wish to take back what was given?”

Horror fills her, the image of her sister dying slowly still imprinted in her mind. She doesn’t want that. “I’m never going to see my family again,” she replies softly, wiping at her eyes. “Are you so unfeeling that you cannot understand grief?”

He chuckles at that, and she can hear him shifting around. “I understand perfectly.” Squinting isn’t giving her a clearer view of him, though her eyes are still adjusting to the lack of light. “You’re not afraid.”

It’s a statement, made out of curiosity, and she lets her shoulders relax. “I don’t think so,” she whispers. She’s uncertain what faces her, but it’s difficult for anything to overcome the despair at leaving her family. “Can I see you?”

There’s a pause, more rustling, and he clears his throat. “Have you ever seen a demon before?”

“No,” she answers truthfully, even as her mind conjures images of disgusting beasts and eldritch creatures.

He harrumphs under his breath. Y/N watches, unsure what to expect, and then he steps forward, letting the darkness melt away. At first he seems huge, and she hears the rustle of wings, but as he comes closer, he seems to shrink into a more human shape. He’s still tall, broad, rippling with muscle underneath a black shirt that clings to his skin, and the only things that indicate his otherworldliness are his golden eyes, his long white hair, and the two thick black horns curving out from the sides of his head. She sucks in a breath at the sight of him, and he stares at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Are you frightened now?” he asks.

There is fear but it’s inspired by a new feeling inside her, something raw and primal, something that’s telling her she belongs to this creature, and she’s not sure if it’s magic or him, or something else entirely. “No,” she says again, shaking her head this time.

His lips curl into a smile. “Curious,” he rumbles. “I knew there was a reason I answered the summons.”

The comment makes her frown. “Aren’t you compelled to?” He laughs, and it’s a sound that makes her insides quiver with need. There’s something strange about him that draws her in, and she takes a step closer to him, tilting her head. “Do you have a name?” she asks boldly.

He watches her in amusement, like he’s never encountered anyone like her before. “Geralt,” he concedes.

It feels more comfortable to have a name to use, though she’s no closer to understanding what is happening. If he didn’t have to respond to the ritual, why did he? The thought makes it out of her mouth before she can stop it, and the amusement doesn’t fade from his face.

“The ritual only binds the one whose blood is used,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them. “You are now bound to me, Y/N, for what I have given you. Do you understand what that means?”

Her mouth goes dry. “You take my soul,” she rasps, eyes watering again. “I have to die.”

There’s a second where he seems confused, and then his knuckles are brushing her cheek, wiping away the errant tear that escapes. “What gave you that idea?” She stares at him, puzzled by his words, and he’s suddenly right there, looming over her, one meaty paw cupping her face. Her heart is racing at his proximity, and she begins to understand exactly what he wants from her. “You’re mine now,” he repeats softly. “I will only ever protect you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she breathes, lifting her hands to brace them against his chest, to stop him getting closer or just to touch him - she’s not certain which. He’s real and solid under her palms, and she’s surprised when she feels the dull thud of his heart in his chest.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he hums, dropping his head just enough to nuzzle the tip of his nose against hers. “I was growing weary of solitude. Then I heard your plea…”

His lips brush hers, and she stuns herself by lifting her chin, allowing him to initiate the kiss. It’s not like she hasn’t been kissed before, she’s just never been kissed with such raw need, and before she can register it, he has her body pinned against his, held in place with a hand on her lower back. She can barely breathe when he breaks away to look down at her; his eyes are nearly black and it’s too hard to pull her gaze away.

“But you’re a demon,” she mumbles.

He answers in a gentle tone, almost amused by her dazed reaction. “I cannot help what I am.” His hand is around her hip now, keeping their bodies pressed together, and she can feel something hard digging into her belly. It takes a second for her to realize; her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You want me to be your companion,” she says slowly, acutely aware of how large he is. “For me to - to -”

Geralt smiles, and it’s a hungry smile, exposing his sharp canines. “Yes,” he confirms, voice thick and syrupy. “I knew as soon as I heard your plea. You are lonely too.”

She wants to be indignant at that, to deny it, except she has always been lonely. Once she thought she had found someone who she had been prepared to give her whole heart to, only for him to shatter the dream and walk away. Since then, her only duty had been to her family, and though she loved them dearly, she had never tried to be anything but the perfect daughter and sister.

“You see?” Geralt draws her back to the present. “You ache for someone to love you. To care for you. It’s why you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for your sister.” His hand somehow covers the whole side of her head, which should be terrifying, but she’s leaning into it, finding comfort in the touch. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

She nods, almost in a daze. He pulls back, taking her hand to lead her to the altar-like stone in the middle of the ruins, and she follows without question. When he sits, he drags her between his thighs, and the angle is much friendlier to her neck when he kisses her again.

“I need to hear you say it,” he growls, unclasping her cloak to let it fall to the ground.

Her eyes lock on his. The golden in them is nearly entirely eaten by black, and a rush of warmth ends right at her core. “I’m yours,” she manages weakly, suddenly acutely aware of the pounding of her heart and the blood in her veins. She feels like she should resist simply because he’s a demon, but she doesn’t feel any danger from him at all.

He tugs her dress up, slicing through the fabric that gets in his way with sharpened claws that are gone by the time he finds her flesh. Heat floods her face when he rubs thick fingers against her sex, and she flings out a hand to brace herself against his shoulder, leaning to the side as he sinks a single digit inside her. It’s thicker than anything that’s ever been inside her before, making her squeak and cling to him, and a rumble of amusement echoes in his chest.

“I’m not a virgin,” she whispers, suddenly in fear of disappointing him.

“Neither am I,” he replies in a quiet laugh. She gasps as he works a second finger into her, and she begins to think that if his cock is bigger than this, he might not fit. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that rallies against the idea of intimate relations with a demon, but she ignores it in favor of his touch, gasping as he thrusts his fingers inside her as deep as they can go.

She can hear how wet she’s getting, and he can too, grunting his appreciation when his fingers come out glistening. When he pushes them into her again, she whimpers, rocking her hips to meet his movement, focusing on the fire he’s igniting in her belly. She’s felt it before, just not this powerful, like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and before she can vocalize the pleasure, her pussy clenches and she’s dripping down his wrist. He moans, almost covering the squelch of his fingers as they keep sinking into her over and over, forcing her to ride out every wave of her orgasm until he’s satisfied she’s done.

He withdraws, allowing her to rest as he tears his shirt off, but her attention has moved to the bulge in his pants. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers against it, looking up sharply when he growls low in his throat and slides his hand to the fastening. His cock springs free the second it's able, and she swallows around the lump in her throat, still uncertain she can take him.

Her apprehension must have been plastered across her face. He catches her chin, forcing her to look at him, and she sees reassurance in his eyes. “It will feel good,” he says softly, taking hold her hand to guide it to his shaft. It’s warm to touch, solid under her fingertips, so she grasps him in her hand, tentatively stroking down then up, smiling when he moans. “That’s it,” he purrs, pressing his hand between her thighs again.

The intrusion of his fingers is familiar now her body has adjusted but he takes his time to open her up properly, bringing her to the cusp of climax after climax. By the time he is hauling her into his lap, she’s a panting mess, yet she still hesitates as he presses the wide tip of his shaft to her entrance, using his fingers to position himself. His golden gaze fixes on hers when he begins to drag her down, and for a moment, she’s convinced he’ll break her, then the first inch is in and she practically begs for the rest. He sinks up into her slowly, letting her pussy drench him to ease his path, and when he’s finally buried deep, she can’t breathe for the pressure in her belly. Her walls hug him tightly, cockhead snug against her cervix, and he keeps her right there, grinding inside while she can do nothing except accommodate him.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a gravelly voice that makes her feel like he’s holding something back.

“You’re -” She still can’t control her breathing, almost shivering through overstimulation. “You’re so big, I -”

“Hmmm.” He sounds amused, watching as she gasps and splutters, pressing her hands against his chest before sliding them to his shoulders. “Would you like me to move?”

She whimpers with a nod. “Yes,” is all she can manage, and he chuckles, putting his hands to her waist. The first slow pull away from him has her digging her nails into his shoulders, but her body is quickly acclimatizing and when he’s almost fully withdrawn, she only wants him back inside her. He gives her exactly what she wants, filling her again, and she cries out in ecstasy, drowning out his low possessive growl.

There’s an electricity in the air when he begins to fuck her, overriding her meager strength to manipulate her body until she’s almost out of her mind with pleasure. The intensity of it makes her feel like she might die if he stops, or if he doesn’t; either way, she’s craving more and more, and it seems he is more than willing to give it. She comes for him easily, easing his path into her slick channel even more, and she’s sobbing by the time she’s done, prompting him to slow just a little.

He growls as she leans back just a little, held in his grasp. “I want to see all of you,” he grunts.

A clawed finger tears down the front of her dress. The fabric falls either side, exposing her breasts, and Geralt doesn’t hesitate, curling his long tongue around one stiff peak as she moans decadently. She reaches up, letting her fingers slide over the horns either side of his head, tugging experimentally. It inspires a moan that vibrates out against her sensitive skin, so she does it again, using the slight leverage to lift off of his cock before sinking back down.

He doesn’t stop her when she does it again. His hands tighten around her waist, giving her assistance on each stroke, bringing her down hard until she’s stuffed with him again. “I want to see all of you too,” she whines, resting her hands at the base of his horns. “I want to see what you really look like.”

Releasing her breast, he meets her gaze, baring his teeth slightly as she keeps moving. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“You won’t,” she promises desperately.

His grip on her waist tightens, forcing her to slow. She gasps, watching the slow ripple as he relinquishes the control over his form, whimpering when he pulls her down hard on his cock as it grows with him, pushing her to her limit. Large black wings sprout from his back, his teeth become sharper, and his eyes glow; he’s breathtaking and terrifying, or he should be, but she feels no fear, only the need for him.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, holding her down on his cock with clawed hands.

“Yes,” she hisses, panting and wriggling to relieve the unbearable pressure in her belly. He grabs her hand, pressing it down against her gut, and her eyes go wide. “Oh -” She can feel him, right underneath her palm, throbbing inside her.

“Like you were made for me,” he snarls, rocking his hips again so she can feel the thick girth dragging against her walls. “You’re mine.”

He moves before she can react, finding herself naked and pinned underneath him on the stone altar. His wings expand then contract, surrounding them as he slides down her body, covering her aching cunt with his mouth. She yelps when she feels his tongue probing her entrance, thick and long, wriggling, and it’s a new sensation that curls her toes as he pushes the flexible organ inside her. It doesn’t fill her like his cock does but it seems to touch every hidden part of her, and she can’t catch her breath, panting hard as she reaches a new high on his tongue.

She’s shaking from head to toe, yet he doesn’t stop, groaning against her pussy, nuzzling against her clit. The additional point of stimulation makes her reach down, sliding her fingers around one horn, and he snarls, fucking his tongue into her with a little more vigor. Her back arches at the unexpected force, and she can feel her heart hammering hard in her chest. She screams and writhes, but he holds her in place until he’s satisfied, and she’s boneless, eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to pass out.

Withdrawing slowly, he climbs up her body, lining up his monstrous cock once more, and she feels like she’s looking up at a god instead of a demon. Her thoughts are swept away in the next instant when he cants his hips forward, burying his cock to the root inside her aching channel again. She falls apart in seconds, crying out until he silences her with a heady kiss.

Time is meaningless. Every thrust sends her spiraling, raking her nails over his biceps as he claims her body along with her soul. She can’t think between bursts of ecstasy except for one driving need to feel him come inside her.

He growls as his strokes become sloppy, harder, faster, and finally, he buries himself as deep as he can, punching a choked cry out of her lungs as he spills into her. It’s hot and thick, and she groans as he keeps her still, riding out his orgasm and grinding deep until he’s done.

Her head rolls from side to side as the pleasure resides, though she can still feel him buried inside her, keeping his seed deep in her womb. He doesn’t move yet, coaxing her into a soft kiss as he remains with his wings sheltering them from the cold air. She hiccups a sob against his mouth, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, and when they part, she gasps for breath.

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her gently.

She doesn’t feel up to anything like fretting at that moment, even as she looks up at his demonic countenance. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she’s certain she could fall asleep in the warmth of his hold. “Will they be alright without me?” she asks, because she has to know, and she trusts him to give her the truth.

He nods, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Yes.”

It’s all she needs. Her eyes flutter shut as she curls into his chest, contentment washing through her as the demon holds her close, lifting her from the stone to carry her towards the darkness he had come from.

When dawn breaks, all that is left is her cloak and a few tattered rags.

Thanks for reading! Please, please let me know if you liked it 🤗

#geralt x reader #demon geralt #monsterfucking #smut #adult fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #reader insert #pwp #female!reader #angst #fluff #smutty smut smut

695 notes · View notes

strangerthedevil · 2 years

Text

i fucking hate you - e.m

part 2 part 3

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you and eddie fuck your anger out on eachother

warnings:enemies to fucking, hate sex, lots of degrading uses, of “bitch, whore, slut, fuck toy” lots of i fucking hate you’s, blow job, oral sex fem recieving, unprotected p in v, (irl wrap it :/), lots of dirty talk, ANGSTTTTTT, jealous eddie, angry eddie, eddie being an asshole at the end. i think thats it. (please do not read if any of this would offend you, it’s the last thing i want to do.)

4.3k words of filth.

authors note: reblogging and feedback is appreciated, please don’t just like :/ i am planning on making this a series if this one does good ;) so please leave some feedbackkkk okay bye ily hope u enjoy.

everyone in hawkins high knew you and eddie hated eachother, ever since freshman year you were the new kid and became popular very quickly, you were the exact same as eddie, same clothing, same hair, same interests and yet he was the freak and you were the queen of hawkins high, and he hated you for that, and you hated him because he made your life a living hell.

he would try and make your life as miserable as possible, telling you that an assignment was due one week from now but actually it was due last night, mispronounce your name, and embarrassing you in front of all your friends, embarrassing you in front of your family, just basically making a fool out of you 24/7.

he was the worst possible human in the world and you could not stand him. everytime you saw him you would roll your eyes and he would flip you off, it’s just that, you hated him, and he hated you, and everyone knew that, so when your teacher paired you up for an upcoming project together everyone gasped and awaited both of your reactions to this new information.

“you cannot be serious.” you gape at your teacher and turn around to see eddie just playing with his pencil not a care in the world. rolling your eyes at his calm reaction, you turn back to your teacher “i’m afraid i am miss ‘i cant stand eddie’” she puts her hands up in quotation marks and gives us both a serious look. “i am exhausted of your bickering in my class, so i thought the best way for you to stop your childishness is to be at forced proximity-“

“but-“ you try to argue, “but nothing. you will both work on this project and you will give me an A+ worthy project and if you fail to settle your differences, you both will fail. try to work together and make the best out of this!” she smiled widely at us both and claps her hands together before returning to her desk to continue calling out partners.

you sigh and cover your face in your hands, fuck how are you going to do this…

the bell rings and you find eddie outside of his locker talking to gareth and jeff, you sigh knowing you have to walk up to him at some point, you’re not failing this project.

you slowly walk up to eddie and tighten your grip on your text books, you felt nervous being so close to him, the closest you’ve ever gotten to him is when you flip him off, and shove your finger in front of his face.

you were standing directly in front of all 3 of them and not one even noticed your presence, they just continued to talk about their d&d campaign they have tomorrow night. you sigh in impatience and snap your fingers in front eddie’s face “helloooo??? earth to moron? we need to talk about the project.” eddie blinks slowly and turns his head to look at you, he looks you up and down slowly, sighing, “what do you want,”

“i-“

“and make it quick sweetheart i really don’t have all day.”

you try to hold your composure and not smack the shit out of him at his arrogance, and his disrespectful attitude how dare he-

you break out of your internal rant when you see eddie start to walk away since you were taking so long to talk.

“shit- wait!” you run after him grabbing his arm and he immediately pulls his hand back like you burned him.

“fuck okay, first of all don’t call me sweetheart you pretentious asshole, second of all, can you please just listen to what i have to say because honestly i don’t want to be around you right now either, and frankly knowing you i’ll probably be doing this project by myself anyway, so just pretend that you’re doing somewhat something in this stupid fucking project so we can both get A+’s and move on with our lives and go back to continuing to hate eachother but right now we need to be normal because I can’t fail this project and I know you can’t too unless you want to get held back again. so if you don’t mind, can you come over to my house after school so we can just get this over with, okay?” you finish off your rant and catch your breath because you were talking pretty fast to keep his attention, it’s pretty clear he doesn’t have a long one. you give him a piece of paper with your address written on it.

“if you wanted to get me in your bedroom you could’ve just asked sweetheart.” he smirks and takes the piece of paper, “you know that’s not what i want-“ he cuts you off “yeah, yeah, i’ll see you later shit bird” he begins to walk away and you stand there dumbfounded.

“you’re a dick!” you sigh smiling, you cross your arms and he flips you off without looking back.

it was currently 7 pm and school ended 4 hours ago, jesus where could he be? he said he was coming so that means he’s coming right? i really hope so, your parents aren’t home, they’re at a business party, won’t be home till late, so it’s the perfect time for him to come, and yet he isn’t here.

you’ve been nervous all day, you’ve never hung out with eddie before, and you were pleasantly intimidated by him sometimes even though you hated him. you had all the things from the project ready and just needed to start at this point, so you did, fuck him, you could do this project without him

no you cant. fuck this shit was hard, luckily a sound of a knock on your door was heard and you ran downstairs to open it, you found eddie in his hellfire shirt and leather jacket, skinny jeans with rips at the knees and his curly hair atop his head. he honestly looked tired? bags under his eyes and he walked past you, a little slump in his step. you turned around to face him and crossed your arms and stared him down. “you’re late and you look like shit.”

“you don’t look too bad yourself there too shit bird” he takes out a blunt from his jacket pocket and tries to light it before you grab the drug and throw it on the floor. “absolutely not, you know my parents will know the smell of weed anywhere.”

eddie rolls his eyes “oh are you scared your perfect fucking parents are gonna find out your hanging out with the freak of hawkins.”

“yes, yes i am actually. you’re here because you have to be not because i want you to be now let’s start this project and get it over with,” you begin to walk away but eddie grabs your arm and pulls you back to him spinning you so your basically wrapped around him, your noses less than an inch apart. you’re both breathing heavily, neither of you pulling away, waiting for the other to do it first because the feeling of being this close to him didn’t feel all bad.

“you know what i think?” eddie whispers, and you nod your head encouraging him to continue. “i think you’re happy you got paired with me, i think you’re happy that this is finally the moment you get to spend time with me, you can be around me, joke with me, kiss me.. maybe even fuck me, because truly, honestly, if you really hated me like you say you do sweetheart, you would’ve done this project all on your own and didn’t even bother to reach out to me for help, but what did you do? ask me for help. you don’t hate me baby, you never did.”

you push him off if you and groan in disgust “that is so not true! why do you think every girl or boy who looks at you automatically wants to fuck you? you’re such a self centered douche bag!” you begin to storm off and don’t bother to see if he follows.

eddie sighs in anger before following you “don’t fucking walk away from me,” eddie grabs your hand and you pull back as if he stinged you like he did earlier,

“and don’t fucking tell me what to do! god you really piss me off you know? no one in my 18 years of life has ever made me as infuriated as you have” you huff and point at his chest pushing him back slightly,

“and nobody in my 20 years of life has ever made me want to yell at a person so much, you make me want to scream! your whole life has been given to you on a silver fucking platter, you’ve always gotten everything you’ve ever wanted and i am stuck in the low class and labeled as the freak, yet you are little miss fucking perfect!” eddie ends his rant with heavy breathing as he is out of breath,

you look at him with your eyes widened and you sigh not knowing what to say to that. you felt so bad, but it’s not like you could say anything to make it better, you didn’t know what else to say so.. “can we just… work on the project, please.” you sigh out.

eddie shakes his head in disbelief and his jaw clenches. “fuck you, and your project.” he storms out of your house slamming the door behind him. you wait for him to come back and keep talking with you but he doesn’t, he leaves you there in your empty house, alone.

you walk cautiously inside the only class you have with eddie, searching for him, you were planning on apologizing but he’s no where to be found today, usually you see him in the morning before class but he wasn’t there, so you were sure you would see him in third period but nope, maybe he just skipped today. did your words really affect him that bad?

you thought maybe you would find him at lunch but nope, it was just his usual table sitting there but eddie was no where to found, you risk your life and head over to that table to ask dustin and mike where he could be and they both gape at you the most popular girl in school wants to talk to them? you ask them where eddie is and they both shrug saying he’s not here today and you sigh giving up, you head back to your table.

chrissy gives you a weirded out look at the fact you went over to the freaks table and but she smiles at you and takes your hand. “ahhh you would not believe who wants to ask you out to prom!! eek!” she exclaims.

you sigh not really interested in anyone at the moment, “oh yeah? who?” she smiles widely and says “billy hargrove! he’s coming over here right now pretend i didn’t say anything” she squeals and claps her hands.

you sigh and turn around to find him right next to you, “hey gorgeous” you’re surprised at his sudden appearance and giggle nervously.

“umm hi?”

“you’re a shy one aren’t you?” he smirks and grabs your chin with his thumb and index finger grabbing your cheek rubbing it back and forth.

“i guess you could say that.” you hum.

“yeah well maybe i can get you outta your shell? maybe at prom?” he takes your hand and kisses it waiting for your answer.

“i-i don’t know-“ you think quickly, you didn’t want to go with him.

“she’ll go! she’s so excited!” chrissy cuts you off and answers for you. you snap your head towards her and back to billy who smiles and claps his hands together “great.. date tomorrow at 7?”

you’re dumbfounded at the situation and chrissy answers for you again “she’ll be there!” chrissy pats your back harshly.

billy gives a cheeky smile and kisses your cheek before walking away as the bell rings and lunch is over.

you’re confused and star struck at what just happened and you go to yell at chrissy but she’s already gone. you look around looking for billy to tell him it’s just a misunderstanding but instead you find yourself holding eye contact with eddie. he looked angry? upset? he looked like he was about to kill someone.

eddie walks away the second you look at him and walks quickly down the hallway, you follow him and see he walks inside an empty classroom, you open the door to the classroom looking around before walking in hoping nobody sees you both going inside, luckily it’s passing period so nobodies paying attention.

you walk inside slowly and find eddie with his hands on a desk leaning forward, his eyes closed as he looks as if he’s trying to keep his composure and stay calm.

“are you okay?” you inch forward to him and put your hand on his shoulder.

eddie flinches and takes your hand and moves to pin you on the wall harshly, you gasp and your mouth is open as you groan in pain at him man handling you like that, he puts both of your arms on either side of your head and his breathing is heavy. “like you fucking care. what are you doing going out to prom with billy hargrove. you know he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

“and why the fuck do you care who’s trying to get in my pants, are you jealous that’s it’s him and not you?” you bite back.

“you wish you fucking whore” he growls back. “you’re so fucking desperate you’re settling for someone who doesn’t even respect you.”

“and what are you gonna do about it?” you smile at him and he stares back and forth between your lips and eyes breathing heavily trying to figure out what to do.

“fuck it.” he closes the distance between your lips and you moan into the kiss, you’ve been waiting for him to do that for so long. eddie let’s go of your hands and his hands trail from your neck down to your chest grabbing both of your tits harshly and hungrily as he bites your lip and you open your mouth allowing him to shove his tongue inside your mouth. you grab onto his hair and pull and he groans.

your tongues dance together and you pull back staring at him waiting for whatever is gonna happen next, is he gonna walk away?

“get on your knees.” he orders and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his words,

you get on your knees grabbing eddie’s belt smiling at the handcuffs there, you unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans reaching your hand inside and palming him through his boxers. looking up to his eyes as you do so, his face contorts in pleasure and he moans out loud at you finally touching him. “i f-fucking hate you…” he sighs out as you take his cock out out of his boxers and it springs out slapping his stomach.

“i fucking hate you more” you drool at the size of him and grab his length and spit on it your drool dribbling down on to his cock and you lean down to suck on the tip.

“f-fuck your mouth is so good… billy doesn’t deserve your pretty little mouth.” he gasps and grabs on to your head to guide your mouth farther down onto his cock.

you hum around him and take him farther down until he’s hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making you gag and eddie whimper, “if your mouth feels this good i can’t imagine what your cunt is gonna feel like fuck..”

you grab his balls in your hand and play with them, wanting them in your mouth you pull back from his length and take his balls into your mouth sucking, you scratch up and down his thigh.

“g-god you’re a fucking whore… where did you learn how to do t-this?” he sighs and leans his head back in pleasure.

you back up from his balls and stroke his cock with your hand and shrug, “guess i’m just a natural whore.” you lean back down to continue sucking him off.

“yeah? you like being called a whore huh, god you’re such a slut letting me use your mouth like this no questions asked, you’re my little fuck toy” he grabs your hair and pulls making you suck his cock faster.

you moan and cant help but reach down under your skirt and rub little circles on your clit, relieving some of the pressure there, you couldn’t believe eddie fucking munson, your enemy, was making you this wet, and you were so fucking wet.

“i’m g-gonna c-cum, please f-fuck” eddie grabs your head and you stop moving letting him just fuck your mouth violently. your eyes were watering, and you can feel the bruise forming in the back of your throat but you didn’t care.

“fuck are you crying sweetheart, does my cock feel that good inside your mouth g-god-“ he shoots his load inside your mouth and a few tears stream down your cheek as you swallow his cum. eddie grabs you by your neck harshly and kisses you, “you’re such a filthy little bitch, did my cum taste good baby?” you nod and he moves you backwards until you reach the back of a teachers desk, he wipes everything off it making room for you.

he grabs you by the waist and puts you on the desk getting on his knees for you rubbing your thighs up and down your skirt,

“did you wear this skirt for me today? fuck it makes me weak, it’s so short… everytime you wear it, i want to bend you over the first surface i see and fuck you so hard, i wanna make you scream.” he says while taking off your panties from underneath your skirt.

you buck your hips at his words and say “you’re all talk munson… shut the up and fuck me.”

“all talk huh?” he lifts your skirt up your stomach and finally sees your slick pussy. your wetness was leaking on to the desk now and eddie moans at the sight. “fuck i’ve been wanting to see your pretty little cunt for so long..” he leaves a kiss there and begins kissing up your thighs and biting leaving marks there.

“p-please eddie.” you beg him to stop teasing.

“shut the fuck up, and take what i give you” he slaps your thigh leaving a red mark.

you almost scream at the sting but bite your lip not wanting to get interrupted, eddie finally puts his tongue inside of you and you gasp grabbing his curls and pulling so hard, eddie moans against you and the vibration makes you shiver.

“oh f-fuck eddie right there.” eddie’s tongue hits your sweet spot and you bite your tongue letting out a whimper bucking your hips violently against his face.

eddie adds one of fingers inside of you and you cry out his name, this was the best head you’ve ever gotten and it was out of pure hatred.

“god i- i’m gonna cum already” you whimper.

eddie pulls his mouth off you, his finger still inside of you, “cover my face in your cum baby” he leans down back to continue working his tongue, he sucks your clit inside his mouth and that’s when your orgasm washes over you and you scream covering your mouth and bucking your hips against eddie’s tongue.

eddie stays between your legs licking up all of your cum and covering his face with it. he takes a finger to wipe it off his face and put it in his mouth.

“you taste just as good as i imagined sweetheart” he smirks at you being out of breath and totally fucked out, he grabs you making you get off the desk and he turns you around roughly pinning you on the desk, bending you over your ass in front of his crotch. you wiggle your ass rubbing yourself against him and eddie grabs your waist stroking his cock up and down your ass.

“i cant wait to be inside you… fucking you in this skirt is a dream.” eddie grabs his painfully hard cock and strokes himself a bit before bumping his tip against your clit teasing himself and you.

“yeah? i guess you got what you wished for..” you back your ass into his touch wanting him to be inside you, “f-fuck get inside of me already.”

“beg.” eddie bends over so he can kiss your neck.

“fuck you eddie.” you roll your eyes, you’re not going to beg to be fucked

“pretty sure you already are sweetheart.” you can feel him smirking against your neck. he bites your ear lobe and you sigh into his touch. “c’mon baby i know you want me inside of you just say the magic word and i’ll let you be filled up with me…” he bumps his tip against your clit again and you want to cry, you’re so fucking wet for him.

“f-fuck i cant believe i’m saying this, please fuck me eddie.” you close your eyes in disgust at saying please to him.

“mm not good enough try again” eddie laughs into your neck and you smack the side of his head.

“what do you mean? i said the magic word!” you yell at him.

“i said beg, not just say please. try again.”

you sigh and give into his demands, you needed him inside of you “god eddie please fuck me you’re so big i-i just need you inside of me filling me up and calling me your little fuck toy, you make me so fucking wet like no other guy has, please get inside me, cum inside of me and making me walk around for the rest of the day with your cum inside of my panties running down my legs i-“

you’re cut off with eddie plunging inside of you and grabbing your hips to fuck you vigorously and roughly. he was not holding back, “god i cant believe i’m fucking you.. i hate you so much.”

“you’re not t-too great e-either, jesus you’re such an asshole sometimes i-”you choke on a moan and grab the desk for dear life trying not to scream. you moan loudly and eddie grabs your mouth trying to muffle your sounds.

“fuck baby i know im big but do you want us to get caught?” eddie moans when you clench around him. “fuck you’re so tight so fucking wet for me.”

“i-i cant, you’re so big” you try to say under the palm of eddie’s hand, he hears you anyway, and leans his head to whisper into your ear “you can take it, you’re my filthy girl, you can take it, my little fuck toy huh baby?”

you nod aggressively against his palm, “yes f-fuck.”

“you’re all mine, and you’re fucking stupid for thinking otherwise. you’ve always been my fuck toy, you’re the only thing and only person who can make me cum, when i jerk off you’re all i can think about.”

“y-you jerk off to m-me?” your eyes widen and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

“god yes, you’re so fucking hot. it’s unfortunate you’re annoying as fuck too… i would’ve made you mine already.” eddie fucks you harder if that’s even possible and hits your g-spot making you scream, eddie immediately puts his hand back over your mouth shutting you up.

“i-i didn’t know you thought about me that way…” eddie takes his hand off your mouth and smiles pulling out of you, and moving you so you’re facing him now, your legs are wrapped around his waist and he puts himself back inside of you quickly. “it’s the only way i think about you. you make me so hard all the time, just your voice makes me rock hard, which is why i always walk away from you…”

eddie looks at your face contorting in pleasure and he almost cums right there, he’s been wanting to fuck you for so long, he’s been imagining it since he met you. you clench around him and eddie falls forward his head buried in your neck moaning. “keep doing that. fuck you’re so tight,”

you squeeze around him in response and he asks “are you on birth control? can i cum inside you? fuck please baby? please let me cum inside you g-god.” you nod, “yes i’m on the pill, god yes please cum inside of me…” your nails scratch down his back leaving marks there.

“i-im so close eddie, fuck don’t stop.” eddie continues to hit that sweet spongy spot and you finally clench and cum all around his cock, the feeling of you cumming pushes eddie over the edge and he shoots his load inside of you and you grab onto eddie’s shoulders wrapping your arms around him, you were so tired.

eddie hugs you back and he leans forward to grab your panties and put them back on you, your cum and his cum swirling around inside of you. your cheek is pressed against eddie’s shoulder and he lifts your head to kiss your cheek and you could just fall asleep like this, but eddie doesn’t speak a word after that, he puts his boxers and pants back on, buckling his belt and you ask him “where are you going?” he smiles awkwardly avoiding eye contact with you.

“going to class?”

you nod shyly and look down your hands, waiting for him to say anything about what just happened but he doesn’t, he just walks out and leaves you in the empty classroom, alone.

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #dating eddie munson #steddie #comiccon #i miss his smile #eddie #dom eddie munson #hate sex #enemies to lovers #enemies sex #sub reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #i want angry sex with eddie :/#sigh

3K notes · View notes

luniellar · 3 months

Text

Breathe Me (Garrick Tavis X OC) - The Empyrean Series

When Xaden Riorson and Garrick Tavis arrive at Samara, they are forced to prove themselves all over again. When Xaden heads off to see Violet at Basgiath since their dragons are mated, Garrick finds himself alone in this unfamiliar area trying to get his name established navigating fights and ambushes. He owed his life to the man.

One particular night when Xaden leaves for Basgiath, Garrick finds himself with a new company. One who starts turning his world upside down and giving him something, that isn't just the Xaden and rebellion, to fight for.

______________________________________

All rights to Rebecca Yarros for her original work and original characters. ______________________________________

Contains: Iron Flame Spoilers Warnings: Language

Chapters: 1 | 2

Read on AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Garrick Tavis

I stretched out my body as I started heading up to the outpost. I didn’t mind taking on Xaden’s shifts when he had to go visit Violet. Hell, I always offered because it gave me something to do when Xaden wasn’t around. I looked up at the clear night sky scattered with millions of stars as I started up the stairs. With each step the sky felt closer as if I could reach out and feel the tiny stars in my hands. Not that I would want to do that either. I would probably crush them all instantly. I tend to do that with beautiful things. Xaden also loved reminding me that and I enjoyed reminding him the same message back.

When I got to the top of the stairs, my shift mate was already there. It looked as if she was cleaning up the mess the last shift left behind. I could hear her tiny, gentle voice as she skillfully navigated around the room mumbling to herself.

“You would think that with all the filth around here, it was pigs who paired with dragons.”

I can feel Chradh, my brown scorpiontail who I’ve known for almost four years now, stirring in my mind. I’m insulted that she could think that dragons would even think about any other living creature being riders. We can barely stand humans.

I smile, mentally rolling my eyes at Chradh. Still playing hard to get? You don’t mean that.

I do. Although, it is humorous that she is comparing humans to pigs. The state of your room definitely reflects that.

The small figure turns from the desk towards the door where I’m standing and we lock eyes. Her brilliant blue eyes with gray flecks stare back at me and widen almost immediately as she drop the few pieces of trash on the floor.

“What the-” Her small, pale hands fly up clutching her chest as she staggers back.

“Sorry, if I startled you. I’m your shift mate for today.” I say back calmly, trying to make sure she doesn’t have a heart attack. “I’m Garrick.”

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I need to extend my hands to shake, but she definitely doesn’t look like the handshake type. Her long raven black hair is in a high ponytail and compliments her icy pale skin. It always made me wonder how some riders manage to stay light after hours flying near the sun.

Considering that we were both standing up, she only came up to my shoulders. She had a smaller frame than your average female rider, but through the rider leather anyone could see that she was built with lean muscle that only helped to accentuate her hourglass figure.

“Gods, you scared me,” she started. Her soft voice gently filled up the small space we were in. “How does a guy like you manage to sneak around like that?”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, taking a small step closer. I didn’t see her react or step back which gave me the assurance that she was just startled. I was always aware of my size and how people had to comment about it. This case was no exception.

Her shoulders dropped as she let out a soft exhale. “I thought Riorson was on duty.”

I immediately noticed how she said Xaden’s name in a normal tone in that sentence. Here, everyone has a little disgust when they have to say his name. Or should I say spit out his name. Most try to avoid it all together and just ignore his existence. They will never understand what he means to us.

“Sorry to disappoint. Riorson is on girlfriend duties. You’re stuck with me.” It only takes five big strides for me to go over to her and pick up the items from the floor.

“No, you don’t have to-” She started to say as her small hand reached for my forearm. Looking down, I saw how small and soft her hands looked against the contrast of my dark, muscular forearms. The only regular female interactions I had was with Imogen and it’s been a month. We determined that a break would be best anyways since rider's life is short and all. “I’ll take this, Tavis.”

Tavis? I didn’t remember giving her my last name.

Her hands strategically moved around the few pieces of paper in my hands and took them into hers. She walked past me to reach the waste basket by the door, her warm scent of vanilla and clean laundry wafting up to my nose. Damn, she smelled amazing.

Clean your room once a while and you could smell like that too, Big One. Chradh replied in my mind.

“I’m Lei Aukai. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Straightening her posture, she meets my eyes and smiles gently. The wooden log outpost looks like it’s big enough to be her room, but here I look like a dragon in my bedroom. Linking her hands behind her, she walks up to me. “I’ve heard about the new Basgiath graduate transfers. Welcome. I joined Samara last year.”

I nod. She definitely wasn’t the handshaking type, noted. “The pleasure is mine,” I replied. Her raven black hair tossed as she turned to the windows. My body straightened in response. That smell was intoxicating. I could smell her for hours… days even.

“I wish I could tell you we could take turns sleeping or something, but Samara is the cruelest outpost. It looks like we will both have to be awake for this one.” She paused, still keeping her eyes on the mountains on the horizon. “You bonded with a brown scorpiontail, is that correct?”

Chardh’s senses heightened and so did mine. She says she was hoping for Riorson, knows my last name, and Chradh’s traits. It was truly a shame she was so beautiful, but I knew I could have her on the floor and gasping for air instantly. “How do you know about Chradh?”

“Chradh.” My dragon’s name even sounded beautiful in her voice. That’s a compliment for you, Chradh. Chradh is not pleased.

I slowly reached for my sword strapped to my back and she turned around to face me at the same time, raising her hands to show there was nothing in them. “I’m not your enemy, Tavis.” Her round eyes glistened in the dimly lit outpost, but I could still make out her small, but perfectly shaped button nose and full lips. “I promise.”

I lowered my hand down and mentally noted the dagger strapped around my waist. I think my size alone would be able to crush her, but you know what they say. Never trust the quiet ones, or in this case small and quiet ones.

“I want to help you and Riorson. I know it’s not easy to get around here. It’s hard on all the newcomers, but especially harder on…” she paused looking at my rebellion markings. “I can help you navigate Samara. I don’t like bullies.” Her brows furrowed like she was reminded of something unpleasant.

“We.. I can take care of bullies.” I flexed my muscles and tensed my jaw. “Why do you want to help us?” I scan her exposed fair skin for any rebellion relics and I find none.

“Like I said, I don’t like bullies. A group of guys are planning to attack you tonight on your way back to your quarters. Let me walk with you.”

I opened my mouth and nothing came out as my mind was trying to process what she was saying. What was this girl’s deal? She wants to escort me to my room? Has she seen me? “Wait, do you know what I look like?” I asked.

A smile appeared on her face. “Yes, Tavis. I’m staring at you right now.”

“Then, how could you say-” Before I could finish my sentence, she quickly reached for her dagger strapped to her thighs in one graceful move. She dashed towards me, moving past my body to jab at the back of my knees with her heel and easily brought me to my knees. As my legs gave out, I managed to reach for my dagger, but when I looked up… her dagger met my line of sight and I was only able to get to her… knees. Fuck. Xaden would be disappointed. But, depending on the angle of entry I was sure that I could make sure she won’t be able to walk on two feet anymore.

Lei looked down at me. “I see you Tavis and I just confirmed that I was faster.”

She was fast. I haven’t seen anything this fast like this since I’ve seen Violet train with Xaden. I think Lei might be... faster.

“I would never want to go one on one with you on the mats, but this is not school. People will do anything to get what they want. Even if it means it’s a cheap fight like the group of 7 guys who plan on doing that tonight. If you had Riorson, sure it could be easy, but not on your own.”

“Fine,” I agreed. “Now, I would like to keep my beautiful face, thank you.” Survival was most important for us. At Bagisth, Xaden and I were easily the best fighters, but that is definitely not the case here, considering it’s the worst outpost. I move my dagger first as a sign of trust and she does the same, taking a step back.

“So Lei,” I started getting up from the floor. “How would this situation have gone if it was Riorson and not me?”

“Hm, I don’t know.” She shrugged her clear blue eyes meeting mine. “I always knew it was going to be you, Tavis.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The shift went by fast as Lei and I chatted about Samara. She told me the kind of missions she went on and what I could expect being here. It was a good orientation. She also told me about her bonded dragon, Cosheirm. Cosheirm was also a brown dragon, but with a morningstartail. Morningstartails were highly sought out by other riders for having one of the deadliest weapons and I suspected maybe that’s why she didn’t like bullies? She wanted to know about Chradh and of course Chradh had an ego trip with that.

It was past midnight when Lei and I headed back for the barracks. Well, my barrack. I never had anyone walk me to my bedroom before so this was new. The night was quiet.

Lei’s scent was softer outside, more fresh and clean than the intoxicating vanilla. She walked beside me in silence, listening for any sounds. If I didn’t know what she told me earlier, I would have thought it was just another walk outside for her. Even though I met her today, she was so good at masking. Maybe it was related to her signet?

I straightened my posture when we got near the side clearing. If there was any attack, this field would be the best. It was secluded from the main building and under the moonlight, you got a direct view of your target.

“Wait, that’s not the Riorson boy,” a deep voice called out.

Lei and I stopped in our tracks. She looked up at me and eyed the woods to our right where seven figures emerged. None of them were my height, but no one was my height. A guy about a head shorter than me walked up to us and I noticed that Lei already had her dagger out. She really was fast.

“Oh shit, isn't that little Lei?” He said, amused.

I saw her stance change as she lowered her body a little like a predator before it jumped to kill the prey. “Move along, Pratt.” She spat out. Lei’s voice was blood-drippingly lethal. I didn’t even know she could sound like that.

“Lei, you have no business being here. Come back over here and stand behind me so we can take care of this dumb giant beside you.”

I laughed at the pitiful attempt at an insult. “The lady asked you to move along, in case you couldn’t hear it from down there.” I stepped ahead and Pratt’s groupie moved up as well. I quickly assessed the situation and saw a glint of a sword in their hands. The guys to the left of Pratt looked the most inexperienced, their stance still needed work. Unlike Lei who could easily wipe them out knowing how fast she moved.

“Lei, we didn’t keep you alive just so you could die here. Come here.”

“Fuck off, Pratt.”

They clearly had some history I had no business in knowing, but I wanted to know. Were these the bullies she had to deal with? How many did she deal with? Did she do it alone?

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” I said stretching my arms and legs. “You want Riorson right? You can’t have him unless you can get through me first.”

When her blue eyes met mine, I quickly signaled with my eyes to go for the guys to the left and she nodded in understanding. I pulled out only one sword. I only needed one from my back and charged ahead, slicing open one of their legs causing a guy to immediately fall to the floor. Two of them came at me next and I dodged their sword jabs and skillfully kicked one down with raw force while slashing through the side of the other. My job here was not to kill. It was better having them around for show so others knew exactly what it means to challenge Xaden and I. What it means to challenge me.

I looked for Pratt and saw his body pinning down Lei’s, next to the injured bodies of the three guys I asked Lei to go for first. I mentally smiled at her holding her own. But, that fucker. He knew exactly that he couldn’t handle me so he went for Lei, go figure. I strided over and with my right hand peeled his body off of her and flung him to the side.

A loud thud hit the floor with the sound of something breaking. I hope it was a leg or arm, but it sounded more like a rib or two. How disappointing. I reached out my hand and Lei quickly grabbed it as I pulled her up to her feet. My heart sank when I saw the cut across her cheekbone that fresh blood trickled down from. My gaze quickly scanned her over to look for any cuts, but didn’t see anything else. She was fierce. I liked fierce.

“Are you okay, Tavis?” She asked, glancing down at the bodies groaning on the floor.

“I’m fine, are you?” I pointed to the same area on my cheek where she was cut.

“It’s nothing. Pratt wears a family ring. It was probably from that.” She ripped the edge of her sleeve and placed it on her cheek. She was resourceful. I liked resourceful.

I looked down at Pratt who was holding his stomach like air was knocked out of him. Well, air was knocked out of him. After hearing that his hand touched her face made me want to crush him under my feet. I was considering it when I heard Lei’s voice behind me.

“Come on, Tavis. Let’s go before someone notices.”

I had some herbs and medicine for her cut so I insisted she walk the rest of the way to my room. Her clean vanilla scent filled my room as she sat on my chair and I brought over the medicine. Looking at the small mirror in the aid kit, she quickly fixed up her cut and thanked me. “I can get the herbs I used and bring it back to you,” she said, getting up and heading for the door.

I thought about telling her she could just take all of it back with her if she wanted since this was the first time I used it, but I wasn’t against the thought of her visiting again. “Sure.”

“Let me walk you back,” I started to say leaning on the door frame and she shook her head. “Come on, you’re hurt and it’s late.”

She looked around the hallway to see if anyone was around and leaned to me. Her scent filled my lungs and I found myself learning closer. I couldn’t read her face, but it looked like she was hesitating to tell me. Wondering if she could trust me.

“You can tell me,” I whispered.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, it was like I was staring at a clear blue lake. It was breathtaking.

“What if I told you I could get back to my room before you could finish blinking.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “What do you-” Then the flashback of how fast she moved earlier back at the outpost. How, despite my hours of training with Xaden, one the most powerful fighters, I couldn't stop her. I could only reach her knees. “Teleportation,” I breathed. Her signet was teleportation.

“Yes,” she whispered back, smiling. “I can tell you more about it if you want to know.”

“I do.” I replied.

“We will talk again, Tavis.”

“Wait,” I quickly reached for her wrists, thinking that she was going to disappear. When her gaze dropped down to my hands, I let go just as fast. “Sorry, I didn’t know if you were going to disappear.”

She smiled that gentle smile again, moving her hands to her sides. “It’s okay.”

“Call me Garrick. My friends call me Garrick, and thank you for tonight.” What else do people say after thank you? I couldn’t think straight through her scent, her smile. “I owe you one.”

“Friends…” her voice trailed off. “I’ll remember that, Garrick.” I didn't know my name could sound like that. Ever.

And just like that after a blink, Lei was gone. Leaving me with nothing but her scent.

I was wondering when you would start taking interest in other humans again. And your rebellion leader doesn’t count. Chradh noted.

I’m not interested. I reply back to Chradh. And shouldn’t you be sleeping, Chradh?

You try sleeping through that loud thumping, Big One.

✦ ✦ ✦

The morning came around and I found Xaden standing in his usual spot at the morning assembly.

“You have something on your face,” Xaden said when I stood next to him.

“What? Where?” I ran my hands over my face. I didn’t see anything when I came out of the shower 10 minutes ago. Also, my room may not be clean, but I washed myself often and very thoroughly. “I don’t think-”

Xaden turns to me and I swear I saw a smile flash across his face. “Since when did you roll up to morning assembly with a smile on your face?”

From the corner of my eyes I saw her shiny raven ponytail. I must have been looking longer than I thought I had because her head turned and her clear blue eyes from the night that actually had some sage green in the sun were staring back at me. Lei gave a slight head nod greeting and a smile before turning back to the podium.

“Good luck,” Xaden’s voice tugs me back to reality. “But, damn I sure hope I wasn’t as obvious as you.” He finished looking up at the podium as well.

I scoffed. “I thought about going easy on you today since I thought Violet would be giving you a hard time, but watch out on the sparring mat.” I paused, remembering how it was last year when he met Violet. “Oh trust me, you were worse.”

“Looking at you, there is no way.” Xaden replied confidently.

After a short pause, I cleared my throat and swallowed my pride. “By the way, can you send me all your outpost patrol duties?”

Xaden laughed.

“Fuck you, Xaden.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #romance #the empyrean #garrick tavis #original character #iron flame #fourth wing #xaden riorson #violet and xaden #chradh #friends to lovers #dragons

35 notes · View notes