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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 14 days

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You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

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As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

Text

im ngl i've been driving myself insane with the thought of harboring Ghost in your home. Like in the 09 mission The Hornet's Nest where Roach falls off the one roof?

Yeah, make that Ghost and there's no other choice but for the guys to leave him behind. The LZ is too hot, the enemies are swarming like moths to a flame.

The floor comes to him.

He grits his teeth at the agony, choking back a scream. Ghost just fell off a height that should've broken at least a couple ribs; maybe they did, he doesn't know, there's too much adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He's seeing duplicates, the buildings in front of him blurred. There's buzzing in his head, loud like bees. His chest aches, it burns with the lack of oxygen. His throat feels swollen as he wheezes; each breath feels like shards of glass in his lungs.

The white noise dissipates slowly. His vision realigns, lines and details sharpening. The unseen force that squeezed his throat finally lets go, setting him free from its deadly hold., his chest expanding to the point of discomfort— deep inhale, loud exhale.

Breathe. Focus.

There's radio chatter in his ear— Price snarling at Nikolai to fucking wait, that they can't leave him there in the hornet's nest but even with his vision blurred, Ghost can see that they're getting lit up, and he's not gonna have the entire team blow to bits in the helo over him.

He's just one man, and there's a whole world to save.

There's a searing pain in his arm when he shifts, he can't remember the last time his eyes welled up with tears, but fuckin' hell does it hurt.

His hand trembles violently, and it takes him a couple of tries to finally get his thumb to firmly press down on the button of the radio in the front of his tac vest.

"Leave me! Just go!" he roars.

Price argues back that no man is to be left behind, but Ghost can hear far too many voices in a different language get louder. They'll be killed hovering in the air like that.

"Price! Go!"

The voices in his ear are deafening. He rips off his headset, letting it sit around his neck.

The helicopter above him disappears.

Good.

The avalanche of footsteps gets closer and with a strangled noise that scrapes the back of his throat, he moves. Move to safety, get away from them, hide.

Ghost pushes forward until he stumbles, falling onto one knee— using his injured arm to stabilize. White hot pain licks from the wrist up, flames threatening to consume him whole.

A few stray tears escape the corners of his eyes.

He's too blinded by the throbbing in his body to realize that someone is grabbing his other arm.

"Can you hear me?"

Ghost thinks he might be hallucinating your voice. His agony is transcendent.

"Hey! We don't have much time!"

He turns his head to his left, and there you are. A civilian, by the looks of it. And you're trying to lead him away. Where? Are you leading him to a trap?

"Quickly! They're almost here! I can hide you, but you need to get on your feet!" you piped.

Ghost gets up without a fight, decision-making dulled by everything he's feeling.

"Come on, this way!" Your hand grabs his forearm tightly as you drag him away. He trudges behind you, breathing ragged.

Clarity comes and goes, but then he feels your small palms push him forward, into your tiny home.

His eyes drag as he takes in his surroundings. A tiny television in the living room to his left, and an ugly brown couch placed in front of it. To this right is your kitchen, food still steaming on the stove, and a scratched teak dinner table with just two chairs sits by a dirty window.

Quaint.

"Okay, okay. They shouldn't come in here, but if they do, I want you to go to the bathroom and sit in the tub with the curtain closed. Understand?"

His chin tips forward unbidden.

"Good. Uhm, I saw that your right arm is injured. A makeshift splint will have to do, alright?" You briskly walk away, opening the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink.

Ghost stiffens, swallowing thickly. If you pull anything underhanded, he's going to have to kill you.

The tension melts from his shoulders when he sees that you're simply pulling out a first aid kit, and some other stuff to wrap his most likely broken arm up.

You pull out a chair before opening the kit. "Sit. I'm not standing while I do this."

He huffs but complies. "Yes, ma'am." Unafraid to order a stranger around. How peculiar.

The minutes drag on, each one more agonizing than the last. It's a relentless cycle of pain... until it finally stops. The residual pain makes him dry heave.

"Whoa there, please don't puke."

Ghost gives a pained chuckle. "I'll try."

Your fingers tighten the knot in the fabric. "Can't say it's pristine, but it's better than having your arm dangle uselessly, I think." You stare at your handiwork for a second longer, before rising from your seat.

"I'm not sure who you are, but you look like actual military and not a thug with a gun. Did you have a team?" you quietly ask as you put away the medical supplies.

He cuts his eyes to you and doesn't answer.

"Yeah, I suppose it wouldn't be smart of you to blindly give information I don't need to know."

He shakes his head imperceptibly.

"Right. Well, I'm sure you know that we need to lay low, so unfortunately, that means no tv. Sorry." How cheeky.

Ghost simply hums in response.

He looks down at his injured arm. It's wrapped tightly, enough to keep it from moving but not enough to cut off his blood flow.

Not the work of a regular civilian.

You must've noticed him scrutinizing your work because you speak up. "I've worked in the medical field before. Nothing spectacular, but I can deal with a broken bone or two."

He closes his eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the day creep up on him.

So bloody tired.

Ghost takes a breath and opens his eyes. No rest for the wicked, he thinks.

He puts his headset back on, as well as he can with his one arm.

There's a crackling sound in his ear.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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bloompompom · 10 months

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Safekeeping

Your brother's best friend learns you don't want to leave for college a virgin, and he thinks he might be able to lend you a hand.

✧ content: ~9.2k word count. 20 y/o eren jaeger x 18 y/o female reader. shameless porn without plot, older brother's friend trope, inexperienced reader/virginity loss, praise, spit, corruption themes, dry humping, guided masturbation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, reader's brother has a name, pet name ('baby'), passing mentions of alcohol/marijuana, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only. ✧ a/n: virginity is a social construct but this is smut so i’m gonna play into it. enjoy ♡ ✧ part two

You planned to move away to college at the end of the summer, finally. Your school of choice was a three-hour drive from home. To you, it was the perfect distance. Just far enough to give you some much-needed space, but still within reason for a weekend visit if needed. You wouldn’t know anyone there, but that was what you were looking forward to the most, actually. It would be a fresh start.

You never did get the ‘fresh start’ that everyone talked about. You know, the new beginnings that came with every school year. You always tried to be optimistic about it but each time, without fail, your teachers scowled when they saw your last name on their rosters. They all knew your older brother Collin—very well, unfortunately.

His reputation preceded you as a punk who was sent to the principal’s office for acting out in class time and time again. Out of the classroom, too—in the hallways, on the football field after hours. Even in the parking lot when he got into a fender bender with his English teacher his senior year. You were cursed with the same teacher last semester and learned the hard way that she had a habit of holding grudges.

But that was beside the point. What you were trying to say was: you were ready for college. More than ready. Giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, marking the days off on your calendar until move-in week. Until you could finally quit your lousy summer job at the ice cream shop, waiting on old folk that never knew what they wanted and didn’t bother tipping.

Still, there was just one teensy little thing you were hoping to get out of the way before freshman year. But now that it was only a few weeks away—twenty-three days, but who’s counting?—it was starting to feel more like a pipe dream.

At the end of the day, there was no point throwing a tizzy over going to college a virgin. Surely, you wouldn’t be the only one.

Right?

Your parents had left for their annual end-of-summer trip down to the beach to visit your grandparents for a week. It used to be a family event, but now that you and Collin were deemed old enough, you had more say in whether you tagged along or not.

Collin had skipped out the last two summers, but this was the first year you were allowed to stay home, too, now that you were eighteen. But what you didn’t expect was that his three best friends would be there with the two of you—for the better half of the week, at that. Apparently, since they had done it the last two years, it had become a tradition, as they put it. Honestly, you were just impressed Collin was able to pull it off without your parents catching on, considering he was never one to clean the house when you were kids.

No matter, though; it didn’t bother you much. They had been your brother’s friends since they were in the eighth grade. Having them around was nothing new to you. Of course, it was more fun when you were younger—back when you could play Mario Party together and force Collin to sit out. Now, there wasn’t nearly as much in common besides the occasional tormenting of your brother.

So, the four of them did their thing, and you did yours.

But therein lies the problem. Even while you minded your business, someone just couldn’t seem to mind theirs. He couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering back to you—couldn’t prevent his eyes from lingering longer than they should.

It wasn’t Armin. He would never dare to look at you that way, the girl he tutored in algebra. Nor was it Jean, hopelessly consumed with texting his classmate, still determined as ever to win her over.

No, it was Eren. 'The cute one,’ as coined by you and your friends once he hit his growth spurt and grew out his hair. Though Eren was unaware of the epithet, this would be the year he’d unknowingly return the sentiment, thinking of you as Collin's very cute sister.

Eren was gone last summer, away at an internship, so it had been a couple of years since he’d last seen you. And you appeared to have—ahem—really grown into yourself, to put it delicately.

Listen, it was harmless. It wasn’t like Eren planned on feeling this way toward you. He didn’t think twice about it when Collin said you’d be at his place, too. And there was no way in hell he’d act on it. He wouldn’t even dare to let the thoughts hang around in his mind, consistently shoving them aside before they could permeate. You were Collin’s—his best friend’s—sister. More than that, you were his little sister!

He thought he was being discreet about it, but man, did you have to make it so tough? Did you really need to lay out by your parents’ pool every single day? Jeez. As a matter of fact, when was the last time it rained? This had to be the longest they’d been without it, now that Eren was thinking about it.

Back to the point here: Eren was, in fact, not remotely discreet. Armin brought it to his attention as they went to grab another beer. You happened to pop into the kitchen at the same time, just to grab a snack, and damn it, why did you have next to nothing on? Like, yeah, the place was a little warm tonight, and it was your house and all, but seriously—tiny shorts rolled high on your waist and a tank top that looked extra clingy as you reached for a cup on the top shelf? Really?

“You can’t be serious,” Armin grumbled to Eren. Once you were gone, obviously.

Eren should have known what Armin was referencing, but he was dumb to it, wholly convinced he had been treading carefully. “What do you—”

“You can’t bang Collin’s sister!”

Who even says ‘bang’ anymore?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second.” Eren innocently held his palms up, waving them as if he could shake off the wicked accusation. “That’s a little far now, isn’t it?”

Armin was getting ahead of himself again; even Eren hadn’t let his mind wander past that boundary… yet.

Armin gave him a look, like he knew better than to take Eren’s word at face value. “Well, it sure looks like you’re trying to bang his sister.”

“Who’s trying to bang who’s sister?”

Both Eren and Armin jumped at the voice, heads spinning like they were on a swivel to find Collin. He emerged from the basement, Jean trailing behind with a suspicious, low-browed expression.

“Oh,” Eren stammered. He had to come up with something fast because he wasn’t about to leave it to Armin, the notoriously awful liar. “Armin was just telling me about some porn he watched the other night.” Eren shrugged. “You know, where the guy tries to bang someone’s sister.”

Armin glared at Eren for throwing him under the bus but reluctantly went along with the lie. “Yeah, and then he, uh… bangs the sister?”

Idiot, Eren couldn’t help but think. Whatever, it seemed to work well enough. Collin stared back at them like they were no better than a couple of horny morons. Jean dismissed it, too. Or at least, it didn’t bother him enough to let it interfere with him going for another beer.

With the crisis only half-averted, the four returned to the basement with freshly-cracked cans of beer in tow, where they would spend the rest of the night playing video games until they eventually passed out.

Well, at least three of them did.

Eren couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. He battled with insomnia from time to time. Tossing and turning on a wobbly air mattress didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep, and with the basement only marginally cooler than the rest of the house, he thought he might as well get a glass of water.

Unluckily (luckily?) for him, he was interrupted before he could do just that. The sight of you, simply existing, lounged up on the couch, startled him.

Someone’s jumpy tonight. You giggled when he cursed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” Eren asked.

You lightheartedly taunted, “Last time I checked, I live here, don’t I?”

He made a face at you, lacking the amusement your voice carried. “You know what I meant. Why are you still awake?”

It was the first time Eren had bumped into you. Not the first time ever, obviously; you had been alone together on countless occasions. But this was different, never this late at night before, and it was the only time it’d been just the two of you since he’d thought about you like that.

“Do I need a reason?” you airly replied, almost on a yawn as you stretched. “It’s summer break, and I don’t have work tomorrow.”

He didn’t offer more than a nod of acknowledgment before moseying across the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. Unsure of where this was going, you reached for the remote and paused your show.

“What are you guys doing down there?”

“They’re all asleep,” Eren answered. He stood idly in the middle of the room because, like you, he was curious as to where this was heading.

“And you’re not asleep because…?”

No, he couldn’t think like that. This was going nowhere.

“I came to grab some water,” he hurried to say—or at least, you thought it sounded hurried—and disappeared into the kitchen right after.

You listened for a moment, fingers dancing on the button of the remote as you debated starting your show again. But when the faucet flicked off, he didn’t return to the basement in the apparent rush he was in. Instead, he stayed there, with you.

Eren sipped his water, thinking of what to say next. It was an uphill battle because there wasn’t anything to say. There was no reason he needed to start a conversation with you. And yet, there he was, leaned up against the wall, dumbly scratching at his midriff as he racked—

Wait. Were you checking him out?

If there was one thing Eren had learned at college—let’s be real here, he had a nasty habit of skipping class—it was that he did pretty well for himself when it came to girls. Decent enough, he’d say. He at least had enough sense to know when a chick was interested in him. And now that you had creaked that door open, ogled at where his hand had lifted his shirt to reveal his stomach, he didn’t really have another choice but to step inside and explore around. Just a bit.

Armin’s warning blared in the back of Eren’s head. As luck would have it, his conscience tended to have Armin’s voice. But there wasn’t anything wrong with casual conversation, was there? After all, he had known you for years.

“So, are you excited to leave for college soon?”

Nope. There was no turning back now.

You perked up in your seat. “Yeah, for sure. It’ll be nice to go somewhere new. Meet new people, make new friends—”

“Maybe you’ll finally find your Fabio.”

There was a joke there, unfortunately. One you hadn’t heard in so long that you cringed at the memory.

As Collin’s sister, his friends were first-hand witnesses to your boy crazy phase, all your dating flops. Perhaps they had even learned you were quite the hopeless romantic. And by that, you meant Jean had found a smutty novel you had stolen from your mom—yes, it even had the signature Fabio-esque cover, hence the joke. Anyway, he read it aloud in front of your brother and the rest of their friends until Armin snatched the book from him, which somehow made the whole ordeal even worse.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you offhandedly chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would happen before college, but you know—I’m sure plenty of people go to college inexperienced.”

Your voice trailed off there at the end, almost like the notion really bothered you. Eren scrutinized it, this thing you handed him. It was a conversational game of hot potato—something you had shoved his way and forced him to hold onto. Why were you bringing this up? Were you looking for his advice?

Eren set down his glass and moved to sit by you on the couch. The far side of it. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed and kicking yourself for having said anything in the first place. But your abruptness sounded just as bad, so with a sigh, you said, “I mean, I guess. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser for being a virgin.”

Again, why were you mentioning this to him? Eren felt like he was playing with fire. He knew he was going to wind up burnt the longer he stayed, maybe even scorching everything around him, even you, in the process.

Still, he poked it, added some kindling because he was unwilling to let it die out. “I think there’s a fairly simple solution to that.”

“What, getting laid? I think I know that,” you scoffed. “And it’s easy for you to say that, looking like—” You loosely waved your hand over the length of him. “You. Believe it or not, I don’t exactly have suitors lining up outside my door.”

Okay, so he was picking up on something here. He wasn’t crazy. You said it then: you found him attractive. And he found you attractive. Extremely so, if that wasn’t obvious already. The answer was easy enough; he might as well go on say it outright then.

“What if I did it?” Eren suggested.

You didn’t know what he meant by it, his casualness throwing you for a loop. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about that.

“You know, took your virginity.”

Oh. There was no mistaking it now. He was, without a doubt, talking about that.

And why were you considering it?

Your brother’s friends, Eren included, had taught you all sorts of things before, things they probably shouldn’t have. They told you to flush the toilet to mask your squeaky front door if you planned on sneaking out. Taught you how to roll a joint, and how to take a proper hit after you confessed you had never ‘felt high’ when you smoked. So, would this be any different?

While you mulled it over, Eren took the far-away look behind your eyes as a horrible sign. He realized how insane the proposition sounded once he spoke it into existence. Before he could take it back, play it off as a joke—he had one too many beers, that’s all—you piped up.

“Really?”

He certainly didn’t expect that, stammering, “I—yeah. Why not?”

Another lengthy pause passed before you accused, “Are you just fucking with me?”

“No, no! I wouldn’t.” He started rambling then, a jumbled mix of ‘I just—’ and ‘I shouldn’t have—’ until you decidedly cut him off.

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. You can… take my virginity.” It felt like a strange way to say it, too formal. And to say it to Eren of all people, who would have guessed it?

Then again, maybe this was the most logical outcome. It wasn’t like you needed to make a big deal of losing your virginity. You weren’t looking for something romantic, with rose petals or a waterbed or any of that corny-porny crap. You were just looking to get it out of the way. That way, when you inevitably meet the love of your life in college (okay, so maybe you were a hopeless romantic), you wouldn’t embarrass yourself the first time you hooked up.

“Okay,” Eren replied on his inhale, a breath sucked through his teeth, like it was a sin to say aloud.

He scooted closer, sitting on the cushion that once separated you. You expected him to kiss you, even leaning into him with closed eyes, but your lips barely brushed into his. He didn’t come any closer than that.

Lowly, he asked you, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded. Your noses bumped.

“I need to hear it.”

“I trust you,” you said, even quieter than him. You could barely hear it over the sound of your heart, thumping so hard you swore it might burst into your throat.

Eren kissed you then, tentatively, with his hand cradling the side of your face. He didn’t move until you did, and when you returned the kiss, he followed while letting you take lead.

It didn’t last long, though. You jumped away from each other, back to the opposite sides of the couch, when the basement door squeaked open. The panic subsided when you caught the bright eyes of your family’s cat, her little head poking out from the shadows.

You held a hand to your chest, steadying your breath and trying to settle your rapid heartbeat, as if both were possible. When you met Eren’s gaze, he was already staring at you with a brittle sort of look. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Did he regret what he had done with you? You didn’t, and you prayed he didn’t either.

Before you had the chance to ask, he finally said, “Should we go to your room?”

“Good idea.”

He knew where your room was, but still, he followed right behind you anyway. At the top of the staircase, just before your bedroom door, you split. You turned to see Eren sneaking into Collin’s room. A minute passed while you listened to his rustling, but when he returned, held between his two fingers was that infamous, shiny foil.

You frowned, hard. “I’m not going to use one of my brother’s condoms.”

“Do you have one then?” Eren asked, already well aware of your answer.

“Fine.”

Eren had never been in your bedroom before. It felt foreign, and weirdly wrong, to have him in there. He looked out of place for it, too big, too mature, especially as you looked at all your girlish knick-knacks and old photos. You wished you could tuck everything away into some lonely drawer.

You avoided Eren’s eyes and fixed your attention on adjusting the lights. Your bright ceiling light was far too unforgiving for this, so you switched it out for your bedside lamp. The drone of the old bulb buzzed in the back of your ears, its light a fizzy yellow.

You were nervous. Eren didn’t need to see your face to know it was written all across it. Not that it surprised him, considering this was about to be your first time having sex, and it would be with him.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach, the sick feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but somehow you want to ride again. Maybe he was just as nervous as you. You had put your trust in him, enough to take your virginity. Handing it to him as if it were some sentimental treasure he could watch over, for safekeeping.

Sure, he knew the optics were bad. Not just bad but horrendous, actually. He was about to sleep with his best friend’s younger sister, a recently eighteen-year-old virgin. The whole situation sounded no better than a second-rate porno—like the one he had made up with Armin in the kitchen, ha!

This was as much a blessing straight from heaven as it was a curse. But he couldn’t care about the optics now, not with you taking a seat on the bed, looking over at him with these come-and-get-me eyes that may or may not have been intentional.

No, this wasn’t a curse at all. If it were so wrong of him, then why was it that he already felt his cock straining against his sweats at the mere thought? The thought of how delicate he’d be with you. He needed to be, for the last thing he wanted was to ruin your first time. He’d be the first to show you what pleasure could be with another person—what you were deserving of before going off and letting other boys touch you.

He set the condom on the nightstand and joined you at the edge of your bed, his knee barely grazing yours. He was about to ask if he could kiss you again, but you entirely side-skipped any conversation by picking up right where the two of you had left off.

Again, Eren relinquished control to you, but he did take the initiative to swipe his tongue into your mouth. You tasted him, the bittersweet flavor of light beer. He was nothing like the last boy you kissed. He didn’t ram his tongue down your throat but kissed you as though he wanted to taste you, to muse over and memorize you. And you let him, lips languidly caressing one another with little point or purpose, solely running on instinct.

You balled his shirt in your fist, twisted the fabric of it between your hands to have him close—closer. He hoisted you onto his lap with his hands at your waist, and you went along with him more than willing. You draped your hands over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and didn’t let your lips break from his once.

He smoothed his palms up and down the small of your back until he eventually ventured lower. He gripped at your ass, pulling you down to grind over him. Just once, so you could feel him, how achingly hard he was for you. Then, you did it again all on your own. Lightheaded and teeming with desire, the pressure against your clit, even through your layers of clothing, was an addicting relief. You moved against him, again and again, until you were dragging yourself over him, practically about get off from that alone.

But Eren didn’t let that happen. Before you get there, Eren used his hold on your hips to stall you. His voice was a mumble against your mouth as he asked you, “How far have you gone?”

“This,” you professed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone.”

Fuck.

“Okay.” It was the word of the night. Eren breathed it out like he was talking to himself. The type of sigh you’d give yourself in the mirror when trying to calm down, which was precisely his goal.

He lifted you with little effort, had you lie back into the pillows before he crawled on top of you. He kissed at your jawline, then placed another on the side of your neck. He left a few of them there. It was all lip, all wispy, like he could break you. Still, you felt each of them like a spark at the base of your spine.

His fingers trailed lower, tickling over your collarbone but stopping short of the neckline of your tank top.

“Is it all right if I touch you here?” he asked, punctuating it by running a hand down your breast, over your shirt.

“Yes,” you whispered with a shudder.

With the confirmation, he massaged lightly, his thumb caressing over your perked nipple.

He kissed you again, his tongue meeting yours while he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched instinctively, wanting more—needing more. He listened to your body, learning as he went, and tugged down your tank top. With nothing between you, he lightly pinched at your nipple, pulling a whine from you, one that didn’t get the chance to meet the air.

Eren kissed the side of your face. “Can I kiss you there?” he muttered, referencing your tits as he gave another squeeze. He pressed another kiss, lower, against your throat.

“Mhm,” was all you managed with a voice that was long gone, lost somewhere in the opened-mouth kisses he left along the dip between your chest.

It tickled a bit when he flicked over your nipple with his tongue—even more when he latched onto it with his mouth. You were wiggly beneath him, driving him wild, and you didn’t even know it. It was sweet how sensitive you were, his mouth being the first to kiss you there, to learn the taste of your skin. So soft. And warm, too, heating up the longer he sucked at your tits, anywhere he pleased.

Eren kept his hand at your waist, palming over your stomach but never risking any lower than that. His touch was heated, urgent, yet he only showed restraint.

He pulled back from you, letting his face hover inches above yours when he asked, “Have you ever touched yourself before?”

He was strangely calm for asking such a personal question, setting your face ablaze. Too rushed, you replied, “Of course I have.”

What did he think? That because you were a virgin, you hadn’t thought about sex before? Hadn’t ever watched porn? Yes, you hadn’t actually done it, but it wasn’t as though you were heading into the situation blind.

“Then—” You, the sight of you wriggling out of your sleep shorts, interrupted him. You caught the bob of his throat when he swallowed, but you weren’t sure he was trying that hard to hide it. “Show me how you do it.”

Eren sat back on his knees, just shy of sitting between your legs as you rested against the pillows. The only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of panties. You hoped he didn’t notice your jittery fingers as you slipped them beneath the band.

You started, “This is—”

“It’s not embarrassing,” he interrupted. It only made you more anxious, like he could read your mind or something. But he was genuine as he said it, assuring you even while struggling to maintain eye contact, his attention flitting from your face to between your legs. “Show me how I can make you come.”

How could he possibly be so open about this? There wasn’t even a shred of hesitation or shame in his voice. You wondered how many people he’d been with—how many times he’d rehearsed before he could speak with such confidence? Enough confidence to have you listening loyally and plunging your hand beneath your underwear.

You pressed the pads of your fingers against your clit and started to rub. Slowly at first, but already, just that smidgen of relief was enough to pull a flimsy sound from you. You were sensitive, throbbing, and so incredibly turned on that you didn’t hide even as he unabashedly stared at you with pure infatuation.

Eren rested a hand on your leg, sliding higher and reaching for your panties. “Can I take these off?”

You stopped only to help him work them down your leg, shimmying until he had them thrown to the foot of the bed. You were hesitant to spread your legs again, but he did it for you, placing one at each of his sides. He took your hand and returned it between your thighs, eager for you to continue. So you did just that.

There wasn’t any doubt he could see everything now—how wet you were, how it coated your fingers the longer you rubbed, the tighter your little circles became. But you were too wrapped up in it to care, playing with yourself just as indecently as you would if you were alone. You couldn’t even be bothered to stifle the chant of gasps spilling from you.

“Can you put a finger inside for me?” Eren requested.

You nodded and pushed one inside, felt how you pulsed around it. You moved it in and out, the same way you had done many times before.

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. You heard the ‘fuck’ he cursed under his breath. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Try a little faster.”

You did just that and bit back a whimper.

“Add another.”

He needed you stretched. He needed you ready for him.

You took your second finger well; you had done that before, too.

“You’re doing so good,” he told you. He leaned into you, closing in. “Can I help you now?”

“Please,” you breathed. You slipped your fingers from you, giving Eren access to do with you as he wished.

But he didn’t reach for you. Not there, at least. He held his fingers before your mouth.

“Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was after, but you obeyed, lusty enough that you found you were trusting him implicitly. He placed his middle and index fingers against your tongue, telling you, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You sucked on them lightly. Saliva pooled on the back of your tongue as he pressed down. He pulled them from your mouth with a lewd sound and smiled at you. It made your chest swell a bit.

Eren returned to your side. His presence was engulfing as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. It surprised you, the intimacy of it, but you didn’t have any time for second-guessing before he urged, “Keep going.”

You returned to circling your clit as his hand met yours. He traced his pointer finger through you, and every muscle in your body tensed.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you said, practically a moan.

He slipped it inside you, taking his time with it. His finger was much larger than your own, thicker, reaching deeper than yours had ever gone. Your stomach tightened at the intrusion, trying to adjust.

“That okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was better than okay. “More. Please.”

Eren chuckled warmly. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curving it just right to have you squirming in his arms. You were beginning to understand why he was holding you now. He wanted to keep you still so that, once he figured out what you liked, he could maintain his pace through your needy bucking.

He had a hand on your head, petting over you as he asked, “You close?” You couldn’t respond because he added a second finger. A hiss left you, but it melted into a satisfied whine. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you whispered against him, his body dizzyingly hot even through his T-shirt.

It was becoming quite the task to keep your fingers moving, what with Eren’s fingers hitting a spot that you didn’t even know existed, over and over again. It had you—fuck—it had you coming. So hard that you thoughtlessly rode his hand, eyes screwing shut as you fucked yourself deeper on his fingers, prolonging the bliss however you could until you turned to goo in his arms.

You were panting against his chest, your body still twitchy, when he started to ask, “Did you—”

“Yes,” you said on a drawn-out exhale.

He pecked your forehead. You still felt the stamp of it as he moved to get back on top. He held himself above you with hands planted on either side of you, kissing you full on the mouth. Still hazy, you didn’t move much, letting him make out with you all he wanted until his lips traveled down to the dip behind your ear, then the delicate crook of your neck.

He bunched your tank higher up your chest until you both tore it over your head. With it out of his way, Eren continued kissing lower—even lower than before. His breath tickled over your nipples, leaving you a needy, rutting mess—for what exactly, you didn’t know, just more.

“Too much?” Eren asked, looking up at you with his big, green eyes.

“No,” you assured, your mouth agape and in awe of him. “I like it.”

He pressed his smile against your skin, kissing and licking his way down your sternum.

When he reached your navel, you asked, “What are you—”

“Making sure you’re ready.” He kissed your hipbone.

“It’s really okay,” you said, slightly wary. “We should just get this over with, right?”

“What if I don’t want to get this over with?” Eren kissed just above your slit. “What if I want to take my time?”

Eren wanted you as comfortable—as relaxed—as possible. And since he was already about to fuck his friend’s younger sister, with one of his condoms nonetheless, he certainly wasn’t going to dig around for his friend’s lube next. Luckily, there was another, more fun, way that he could ensure you were properly lubricated so as to avoid any pain that may arise from him splitting you on his—

Focus.

“I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t,” Eren said, a reminder more to himself than for you.

You gasped, almost choked, when he kissed the top of your thigh, then the inner part of it.

“Can you do that for me?”

“Eren, I—”

“Please.” He licked a broad stripe up the crease of your thigh. That alone had your head thrown back against your pillow, a tiny ‘oh’ escaping you. “Let me. I want to.”

“You do?” you timidly asked.

“So badly,” he replied, but it sounded more like an admission. A white flag of surrender, like he was letting himself fully give in to his desires because, yes, he had thought about this before. There was no use in lying about it now.

“O-okay.”

On that, he returned to teasing his way between your legs, kissing from the delicate flesh of your inner thighs to—

“Wait!” you interjected. Eren immediately looked to you like he had done something wrong, but you quelled his worry with, “Can you get undressed, too? Like, at least your shirt.”

Your request didn’t sound nearly as self-assured as his, but he listened to you nonetheless. He sat back to peel off his shirt. He smiled at you softly. “Better?”

You scanned over his toned torso, sun-kissed and tanned from summer. Definitely better. “Thanks.”

He leaned over you, his mouth inches from your pussy as he murmured, “It’ll feel good.” Then he kissed your entrance, and the sensation of it jolted through your body like lightning. “Promise.”

Eren parted you with his fingers before licking through you, letting the newfound feeling sink in deep. His tongue was warm, wet, and exceedingly gentle—nothing like his fingers or even your own. You couldn’t begin to describe it, but that might be because, after a second lap of his tongue, you were already losing any and all coherency.

You made a few strained sounds, flowery and pathetic, but supported yourself on trembling elbows to watch. When you met Eren’s eyes, he only stopped licking at you to say, “Tell me what feels good.”

“Everything.” The word tumbled out of your mouth desperately. “Everything feels good.”

You felt his laugh just before he closed his mouth back over you. He continued having his way with you, sucking and licking at you, saliva and slick making a mess of his pretty face as he staggered kisses between his laps. Whenever his lips brushed against your clit, your legs would flex tight. He hooked his arms around them, laying them over his strong shoulders. You felt the way his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, locking them in place while he circled his lips around your clit with more pressure than before.

“Ah—oh,” you moaned, your back leaving the bed to press your pussy further into his face, as if you could have him any closer—you know, until you’d have him inside you. But that would come soon enough.

Eren didn’t ask this time; he knew exactly how he was making you feel. And you were thankful for it because you couldn’t dream of him stopping. You needed more, lacing a hand through his locks and pulling lightly, encouraging him. He groaned against you, clearly liking it, so you did it again.

He was sloppy with it while still… thoughtful? That didn’t feel like the correct word for it, but even as he made out with the most intimate part of you, he did it with intention, doing that thing again, whatever it was, with his tongue pointed, because he had quickly learned you liked it. No, he showed you that you liked it. Loved it, actually; it was excruciatingly evident by the breathless sounds you made.

And when Eren paired his tongue with his sucking lips, swirling it against your clit, you came with your own hand clamped over your mouth. Your entire body gained a pulse of its own. It was much stronger than your first orgasm and longer-lasting, too. The muscles of your stomach wound and released while you rode out your high, Eren groaning against you just as pleasedly.

Only once you were no longer propped on your elbows but flopped against the bed did Eren let up. Your thighs were still trembling as he kissed a pathway back to your side. You both sat with heaving chests, though yours much heavier than his, and you were beginning to question how you were supposed to go for another round. You hadn’t even reached the—for lack of a better word—main event yet. Truthfully, you expected Eren to throw you to your bed, pop your metaphorical cherry, and be done with it. But now you had already orgasmed twice and he still had his sweatpants on.

You should probably do something about that, shouldn’t you?

“I wanna touch you, too.”

While innocent, it was the most you had communicated with him this far, so he didn’t stop you when you reached for him. He was more than ready for it.

You explored him a bit, tracing over his length and discovering what touches made him twitch beneath your touch, still as chaste as ever.

“Show me,” you purred.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do—a hand job was far from rocket science. It was more like if you had to show him yours, then you wanted to see his. You wanted to watch.

Eren tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping against the low part of his abs. Already, his tip was wetted, needy for anything after going untouched this long, even if it was his own hand.

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, working his fist over his cock, faster, until he was jerking himself off for you. His breath, fanning just above your head, went from steady to ragged, his chest tight.

You watched him for a moment, already needing to touch him. You pushed yourself upright, perched so that your knees brushed against his thigh, ready to take him with both hands.

“Hold on.”

You glanced at him. He fidgeted, like he was about to say something but retracted it immediately. He sounded hesitant, looked even more hesitant, when he asked, “Can you—can you spit in your hand first?”

“Oh, um.” You looked at your open palm and tried your best to collect some saliva in your mouth. It was a little daunting, knowing he was watching as you did it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

No, he definitely didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. But he wouldn’t admit that to you right now.

You took him in your hand, mimicking how he did it, with a loose wrist and your grasp slightly firm. When you squeezed over his tip, you heard the sharp inhale it pulled from him, noted how his pelvis flexed. Eren’s hand closed over yours. He was going to show you exactly how he liked it.

Eren moved your hand for you, gripping it whenever you reached the head of his cock. His pinched breaths turned into groans, his brows hanging low over his keen eyes. That was when he started thrusting, fucking your hand, and nearly forgot where he was—forgot whose hand he was using like his own personal toy.

“Spit on it,” he grunted, that temperate side of him growing unrestrained.

He didn’t mean to come off so crass, not in front of you, not this soon. It was just that Eren couldn’t remember the last time he came from a handjob, but he was nearly there, with your hands so dainty and velvety around him. Not to mention the spit dribbling from your pretty lips before you spread it down his cock—he was about to lose his last smidgen of composure.

Thankfully, he remembered the reason why he was here. He had a much bigger agenda than fucking your hand. How could he have forgotten already that he was here for you?

“That’s—ah, shit.” Selfishly, Eren waited for another second before releasing your hand. You continued stroking him eagerly, and it felt wrong to stop you, but he did just that with his hand around your forearm. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep going.”

“Sorry,” you said, your hands now politely to yourself and folded on your lap.

With a short, huffing laugh, he told you, “You do not have to apologize for that. Believe me.”

His chuckle had you smiling again. That closed-mouth, coy smile that he was quickly learning might become the death of him. He straightened out, taking your chin between his fingers to kiss you again.

“Lay back for me,” he whispered.

You fell into the mess of pillows and tangled sheets, making yourself comfortable while Eren fetched the condom. You didn’t know what the feeling was—trepidation, anticipation, excitement, perhaps all three—but it bubbled in your stomach as you watched him rip the wrapper before rolling on the latex.

He pumped himself a few times as he reminded, “We can stop at any time if you need.”

Eyes wide and fixed onto him—specifically on his cock, which he’d soon gape you on—you asked, “Do we need a safe word?”

He laughed again, through his nose like earlier, but only because you were so agonizingly cute about it. “I think ‘stop’ will work just fine.”

You did that smile again, winding the knot in his stomach more than he even thought possible. Eren was so close to snapping—not like that! Not hurting you, never. More like coming undone, turning into a puddle of himself, finishing humiliatingly early—that sort of snapping. He didn’t know what had him feeling this way, but something about you made him feel like the virgin here.

He didn’t dare push inside yet, not only for your sake but for his. His eyes, now brazen and alert, scanned over you, staring you straight in the face like a silent check-in. And when you gave him the go-ahead, nothing more than a bobble of your head, slowly, he tilted his hips into yours.

With you unbelievably tight around him, he stilled with only his tip inside you. Even so, his breath had already hitched in his throat. He couldn’t hold back, he simply couldn’t. And when he gave you a little more, between his eyes flittering shut, he caught the scrunch of your nose.

There was a stretch, a certain fullness. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel like he belonged in there, either. It was considerate of him to take his time with you, prep you with his fingers and tongue. But even so, with his cock only halfway inside, you had your nails dug deep into his biceps.

“How’re you doing?” Eren asked.

“I’m—” You glanced at where your bodies were connecting. There was still more of him to take. “Okay.”

It didn’t appear like he believed you, which was fair because it was a shaky statement at best. “It’s too much?”

“A little,” you sheepishly admitted.

He pulled out of you, and even that made you wince. Your shoulders dropped back to the mattress, every muscle in your body easing up now that he wasn’t bullying inside you.

"Here.” Eren rolled onto his back. He guided you on top of him, set you so your knees straddled his waist, his cock resting between your legs. Somehow, it looked even longer like that, laid upon his abs. “Let’s try it like this.”

Like this? It felt incredibly vulnerable from up here, where he could see you—in all your glory—bouncy above him. Plus, you hardly knew what you were doing; you had just given your first handjob! If you were being honest, you thought you’d just sort of lay there and take it from him, and now he was expecting you to ride him? It was intimidating, to say the least, even if Eren tried to assure you it wasn’t.

“You have total control this way.”

That was the exact thing you feared. You didn’t want any control. What if you did something wrong?

Apparently, you didn’t do a great job at masking your worry because Eren immediately placed his hands on your hips, not taking them in his grasp but rubbing his thumbs encouragingly against your skin.

The entire point of this was to trust him. That was why you were doing this—losing it to Eren, someone who wouldn’t make fun of you. That way, when it really mattered, you wouldn’t royally fuck up. And after getting this far, there was no chance in hell you would end the night a virgin. Well, half-virgin.

Ready to try again, you drew a deep breath, lifting yourself to your knees. Before you reached for him, like the new sexpert that you were, you spat in the palm of your hand, not minding Eren’s eyes this time. You stroked over the condom, mixing its lube with your saliva, then lined his cock up with you.

Carefully, you sat down. He only reached as deep as before, but the pressure was nowhere near what it once was. You rolled your hips, testing different angles to see what worked best—how you could get more of him, all of him, inside you.

Eren curved a hand around the nape of your neck, cooing, “Come here.”

He brought you in for a kiss—more than a kiss—his tongue immediately licking into your mouth the second your lips crashed into his, tasting every one of your contented, little hums.

He snaked a hand between your legs, lazily thumbing over your clit until your lips were unable to match his fervency. It was more like you were moaning against his mouth, right into it, sharing each of his breaths until your cheeks sweltered. He melted you from the inside out, softening you up like butter until you were flush against his pelvis—as easy as that. Cautiously, you started rocking your hips.

“That’s it,” Eren whispered into the corner of your mouth.

With quivering arms, you held yourself up with your palms pressed into his chest. Perched proudly atop him, the tip of his cock reached deeper, filling you deeper than anything else had before. It stole your breath, almost like you felt him in your throat.

Eren admired how your mouth fell into an adorable ‘o’ before you started moving. As though a switch had flipped, you were suddenly rolling your hips against him—slowly, of course—repeatedly having him hit that delicious spot again as you indulgently chased after your third orgasm.

“You’re doing so good, taking me well for—for your first time.”

Shit. Eren remembered he was taking your virginity.

He inhaled sharply, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his voice gave way, or how his cock jolted inside you when he realized he was the first to have you like this. His cock was the first to fill you, stretch you, mold you to accommodate him. Only him.

“Do what feels good for you, baby.”

The pet name slipped past him before he could wrangle it back, but you didn’t seem to catch it. Or, at least, you didn’t mind.

No, you were too busy to hear him, more occupied with getting a feel for what you liked best. Eren let you use his cock freely because—what, was he supposed to stop you? Fuck no. He would let you continue forever if you desired it, so long as you’d continue gifting him with such lovely and lewd expressions—the sweet curl of your lip, the knit of your determined brows as your thighs had surely started to burn.

But, boy, it was quite the challenge, letting you have your way with him. You could only keep your pace for a moment or two before you’d take a break. Such a fucking tease, and you didn’t even know it. It was endearing how worn out you were from everything that came before this, and all Eren wanted was to dig his heels into your bed, pound away at that tight pussy of yours, and show you just how wonderful he could make you feel.

It was a test of strength for him, whether he could hold back or not, because finally, you looked like you were enjoying yourself on his cock. You took him with short strokes, a simple tilt of your hips back and forth once you realized you could grind your clit into his pelvis.

He could tell you were close, from the way you fluttered around him to the gasps getting caught in your throat from the added, and absolutely euphoric, pressure.

“Just like that. Keep going. Make yourself come for me.”

The gravel in Eren’s voice pushed you closer to the edge. There was a growl to it, and you could feel it vibrate through you. You tossed your head back with a cry loud enough to wake a neighbor as you shoved a hand between your legs, desperate to come.

Eren shushed you dotingly, but there was a grin on his face as he placed his sticky palm against your mouth. “Can’t let them hear us now, can we?”

He felt your heady breath as you panted, trying to reach your peak. When you couldn’t ride him any longer, your hips an erratic sputter, he beamed up at you, slack-jawed smile and all, and said, “Feel good? Need some help?”

Too overwhelmed, you couldn’t even nod your head. You babbled uselessly.

“Want me to fuck you, just a little? Get you coming on my cock?”

“Yes, please—oh, God, Eren.”

When he started to move, thrusting into you ever so slightly, you were already scratching your nails down his chest. It was no bother to him, though. He only wanted you to do it again.

When you came, you squeezed him so perfectly that he thought he might explode. It was taking his last bit of self-control to fuck you at such a steady and slow pace when, in reality, he only wanted to hammer into you. Eren felt like he was moments away from boiling over. His face was burning, and he could feel the sweat beading in his hairline from this aching, pent-up desire within him. After fingering you, going down on you—no, after days of fantasizing about you—he needed release.

Even you could see it—the unmistakable flush of his face now spreading to the base of his neck and spanning his chest. As blissed out as you were, limply collapsed on top of him, you mumbled against his skin, “Eren, I want you to come, too.”

And how could he turn that down? Now that you had come three times, he figured he could finally have his turn.

“I’m gonna go a bit faster now. You tell me if that’s okay or not.”

Before he could even flinch, you assured him, “It’s okay. I want you to.”

The soft laziness of your voice, the dreaminess seeping through it like syrup—it was too much.

Eren took you by the hips first, holding your body pliant for him to thrust into. He started with long drags of his cock, letting his tip kiss your entrance before stuffing himself back inside you. Each time he bottomed out, he bit back every vulgar curse he wanted to hiss into your ear.

Then, he flattened his hands against your back, folding you into him with his palms seared into your shoulder blades. Your face was smothered in the crook of his neck as he fucked up into you. The bed began to squeak, like a mockery of your tiny bleats.

“You all right?” Eren asked, his voice hoarse.

You only made an affirmative sound that got muffled as you burrowed against him. With your chest warm, like a tingling between your lungs, and your head stuck somewhere in the clouds, you took him in a speechless, almost surreal, bliss. How fiercely he needed you, if only for a blip in time, was intoxicating.

And in that fleeting moment, the sin of it, the forbiddenness surrounding you, had vanished. Eren was sure it would rear itself again, that was for certain. He could predict the ripple of guilt that’d course through him once he inevitably faced what he’d done. But even if it meant betraying his best friend, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

Especially when he realized how fucking good it felt to come inside you. With his arms locked around your waist, your entire body smushed against his, he snapped his hips into you, as if he could possibly fuck you any deeper. He emptied himself into the condom as a groan tore through his throat, the hum of it against the shell of your ear like a final shudder down your spine.

He pulled out of you, faintly cursing as he did. You flopped at his side, entirely spent, and stared at the ceiling with fuzzy, unfocused vision. The rush of adrenaline was on a steep comedown, and you were already starting to feel it. Sore, but extremely satisfied.

“You should probably go to the bathroom—to pee and stuff,” Eren said, that familiar, boyish side already returning in full force.

Pee. Got it.

You only muttered a ‘yeah’ before you redressed and tip-toed off to the bathroom down the hallway. There, you wiped yourself clean, forced yourself to pee, and gave yourself a good long look in the mirror.

In just one night, you had hit every base. By definition, a home run, in your book—and with your brother’s ‘cute friend,’ at that.

You were shocked to see Eren was still there when you returned to your bedroom. He had on his boxers and tee already, stepping into his sweatpants as you opened the door. He gave you a soft smile as you hopped into your bed.

Then, even more surprisingly, he asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

Eren knew he should leave unless he hoped to get caught. Still, he thought it was the right thing to say.

You giggled, “I think my brother would kill you if he found you in here.”

He laughed along with you, but when it settled, he crawled beneath your sheets anyway.

Though you felt uncertain about it, he consoled it away with, “Don’t worry. I’ll just hang here until you fall asleep.” You at least deserved that.

He turned the light off and let you rest your head against his chest, your arm looped around his waist. You didn't know where the urge to cuddle came from, and neither did he, but he didn't question it. It was comfortable, even as he waited for that pang of guilt to hit.

But it never did. And once he heard your breathing taper to a peaceful drone, he slipped out of your bed and snuck back down to the basement. That stupid air mattress felt a whole lot more comfortable now.

Finally, Eren had scratched the itch he couldn't kick, just to get it out of his system. Now, there was absolutely no way he'd think of you again—not that kittenish little smile nor how you curled against him in your sleep—and definitely not while you were three hours away at school…

Right?

✧ continue to part two ✧

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

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wolken-himmel · 1 year

Text

In which (Y/n) ends up in the infirmary because a child wandering around campus bit her.

It turns out that the feral boy is Floyd's and her child from the future.

Request by anon.

"(Y/n), we came as quickly as we could!"

A jolt ran through your body when the door to the infirmary was pushed open with an incredible force. Before you could even begin to recover from the awful noise the hinges produced, you found three figures surrounding your bed.

"What happened to you?" Deuce asked and pointed to your finger in worry. "Someone said you got bitten?"

Ace poked the band-aid that covered the tip of your pointer finger. "Bitten by a feral animal? By Grim?" he asked and began laughing, especially when the cat in question grumbled a few curses of protests.

Much to your amusement, Deuce shot the cat a stern look and wagged his finger in front of his disgruntled eyes. "Grim, what did we tell you?" the blue-haired boy scolded, narrowing his eyes. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Grim threw his hands into the air while Ace and you merely laughed your souls out. Your amusement seemed to confuse Deuce, so much that the cat had to explain, "I don't bite people. I have class, you know..."

"Yeah, I was bitten—" you began slowly.

"But you're not bleeding out, are you?" Ace interrupted you and took precautionary step backwards. "And please tell me you didn't get rabies..."

By then, your left eye had begun twitching in frustration — oh, and your ears had begun hurting with all the excessive noise. Before the three could begin arguing amongst each other again, you had already raised your hands to shut them up. "Let me finish my sentences, you idiots!" They quieted down at once, all due to the angry glare you shot them. "No, I got bitten by a child... It was a boy, turquoise blue hair and very very sharp teeth. He couldn't have been older than seven..."

"How... did a child get on campus?" Ace asked with scrunched up eyebrows.

"I don't know..." you grumbled and sank into the soft infirmary bed again — it was much softer than the one back at Ramshackle. After a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and waved the three off. "Just ask Crowley or something."

"And where is the boy now?" Deuce piped up, his eyes flashing with concern. "What if he bites other people? He could seriously hurt someone—"

The red-head rolled his eyes. "It's just a child, you idiot..."

"No, trust me, Ace," you interjected seriously. A series of shivers ran down your back, and something akin to trauma darkened your eyes. "That boy is a menace to society."

"So what do we do now?" Grim asked, panicked.

His blue eyes flashing with utter determination, a bulb seemed to light up above Deuce's head. "We could put up some traps," he suggested while pacing up and down the empty infirmary. "You know, attach some thread to a branch and then prop up a cage. And then use candy as bait."

You clicked your tongue. "That's how you catch a stray cat, not a child..."

"Ugh, why do our professors always give us so much homework? I barely even have time to fulfil my daily squeeze quota anymore! Jade, my whole life is falling apart! What is the purpose of living if I can't have fun?"

"Oh Floyd... please tell me you're finished with the alchemy assignment for tomorrow."

The twins were walking side by side, traversing another courtyard to get to the Mirror Chamber for their shifts at the lounge. Yet, dread already pooled in the depths of Jade's stomach when he looked upon the moody frown on his brother's face. Floyd's mood swings and work didn't mix well at all — it was like throwing oil and water together.

"Nope," Floyd chimed innocently, "haven't even started yet with that stupid assignment."

"The deadline is tomorrow..." Jade furrowed his eyebrows in worry.

His concerned tone merely drew an annoyed scoff from Floyd's pursed lips. "I wasn't in the mood." A whine escaped his lips when he raised his long arms to stretch lazily. His lips twisted downwards into a pout when he suddenly complained, "I haven't seen (Y/n) all day! My little shrimpy would usually bribe me with hugs and what not to do my homework..."

Jade shook his head in disbelief. "By the Great Seven, Floyd..."

Before he could properly begin scolding his brother, a high-pitched voice reached their ears — someone was calling out to them, and the voice was drawing closer. "Daddy!" they managed to discern once the voice was close enough. And almost simultaneously, a young child threw himself into Floyd's arms while continously muttering 'Daddy' over and over again.

Reluctantly moving his arms around the boy to support him, Floyd furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and a tad bit of annoyance. "Huh? What do you want, little guppy?" The sharpness of his eyes softened up though as soon as he found the child's cheeks covered in dried tears. The boy continued wailing and clinging to the Octavinelle student. "Oh my, why are you crying?"

"I-I hurt Mommy earlier!" the boy confessed guiltily. "I bit her! I didn't mean to... I was just so excited to see her again! And I was so happy that I chomped down a little bit too much... It was meant as a love nibble..."

"And where is your mommy?" Jade asked hesitantly.

The boy's mood seemed to increase once he laid eyes upon the other twin. "Uncle Jade! You're here, too!" he exclaimed with a toothy smile.

Floyd and Jade shot each other surprised looks, astonished by the young boy's ease at telling them apart. Yet, with the way he addressed them, they both began to worry.

"I don't remember having a son, Jade..."

"Neither do I."

Before they could ask the child for answers, three figures came running towards them — two Heartslabyul students and a familiar cat monster. All of them were out of breath when they came to a halt in front of the twins.

"Floyd! Step away from that child at once!" Deuce exclaimed and extended his flat hand warningly. "He's dangerous..."

"This little guppy? No, he ain't dangerous at all." A bout of laughter escaped Floyd's lips when he began tickling the boy affectionately. "What's your name, guppy?" he cooed and cradled him gently.

"Nemo!" the boy chimed.

"See?" Floyd drawled. "So cute."

Grim shook his head hastily. "That boy bit (Y/n)!"

The remark caused Jade to tense at once. His limbs suddenly frozen, he only managed to slowly crane his neck at his brother, who was still busy playing with the mysterious boy. Now, on closer look, Jade managed to see the resemblance between the wild boy and the Ramshackle prefect. His disbelief still didn't lessen, somehow, when he carefully asked, "Wait... so (Y/n) is your mother, Nemo?"

The boy immediately piped up happily when that name reached his ears. "Mommy! Where is she?" His toothy smile showed off his razer-sharp teeth. "Is she alright?"

"Great," Ace grumbled under his breath, "so we bought the cage and candy for nothing..."

The revelation had Floyd perking up in utter delight. His bad mood from earlier had disappeared entirely, based on the way he was grinning widely. "Woah, so Shrimpy and I are gonna have little shrimpies together in the future?" Giggles escaped his lips while he threw the child into the air. "I love it! You're making my day, little guppy~"

"If that's the future, you should work hard for it..." Jade muttered mischievously. "Maybe this is a sign by the Great Seven to work on your assignment for tomorrow."

"Nemo, what do you know of alchemy?" Floyd asked, his laughter mixing with his son's giggles. "I'm sure you'll help your daddy work on his assignment, no?"

The question made Jade's smile waver. "Oh, he's hopeless..."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #floyd leech #twst floyd leech #twst floyd x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #female reader

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Girl rage, girl rage, girl rage!!

CW for Simon being a Jerk and a Creep, mentions of violence and murder, and kidnapping.

One time in high school, there was a boy that wouldn’t leave you alone. You gave him a million chances to knock it off, growing more and more hostile, snapping your teeth. The inappropriate touches in the hall, the lewd comments at lunch breaks, the fucking pictures. Nothing salacious, just long shots of you from afar, trying to go about your day.

One day he reached for your chest and you snapped two of his fingers. His parents wailed that you ruined his rugby career. You told them he should get better at football.

When you’re annoyed, you crack the knuckles of those same fingers on your own hand.

It’s the first thing you do when you wake up in a bare, grey basement, laid on a thin cot on the ground. Pop, pop. Recalibrating your foggy mind.

You don’t quite remember how you got here. Last clear thing is the bar. Doesn’t matter how you got here though, at least for the moment - just that you are here. And you don’t want to be.

You’re handcuffed, chain looped through an exposed pipe above your head. You clink it once, twice. Decide it’s fairly sturdy and take stock of everything else.

Your stomach is a bit tight with nausea - drug induced, you figure. Ugh. And your head aches, nothing a glass of water won’t fix.

But all your clothes are intact, no ache between your thighs or burgeoning bruises on your breasts. No shoes, though. Bummer, you liked those.

You crack the knuckles on your other hand; pop, pop.

You think of the scent of cheap whiskey, shattered glass, policemen wrapping you in a shock blanket. Remember your date chocking on his own vomit in a dark alley, then someone much bigger and stronger grabbing you as you tried to leave.

Hm.

The pipes are warm. You settle back against them and wait.

—

You don’t scream when Simon enters the basement. Don’t make a single peep. You shift against the pipes, tucking your feet under you as he approaches. Your eyes are so big, rounded as you peer up at him through your lashes.

“Such a smart girl,” he coos, “staying quiet for me. Or are you just that scared?”

You blink at him, the tiniest indent dimpling your bottom lip from your teeth. He crouches down in front of you, arms balanced on his knees. You’re curled up so small. He wants to bundle you in his lap, tuck you away.

“It’s alright, little one,” he soothes. “There’s no need to be scared.”

You twitch a bit, the metal cuffs clicking together. He flicks his eyes to them, sighs.

“Those are so that you don’t do something stupid,” he explains patiently. “Like you did earlier.”

A little furrow of confusion creases your brows. He exhales, amused despite himself. So precious, his girl. Like you can’t fathom why he would be upset with you.

“Going out with a strange man.”

He tuts, feels that black rage simmering again, same he felt when he realized you and that slime were no longer at the bar.

“He almost hurt you in that alley,” he reminds, “had he not been so drunk he tripped over his own fucking feet.”

He takes a second to breathe, fingers twitching. They feel too dry, too clean. He was so worried about getting you home that he had no time to bother taking care of that scum.

“I tried to let you have your fun, baby. I really did. But I can’t — I can’t anymore. The world is far too dangerous.” He brushes the backs of his fingers down your cheek, coos at the little shudder that runs through you. “And you’ve proven that you can’t take care of yourself.”

Your lips part. Shock, confusion, protest. It doesn’t matter, he’s more distracted feeling the soft give of your plush bottom lip beneath his thumb, bitten pink.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he soothes. “I’ll take care of you from now on.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your head to your arm. He hums.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. This is for the best, I promise.”

You sniffle a bit, blink wet eyes open. Wet your lips with the tip of your pretty pink tongue.

“What… what do I call you?” you ask, voice soft and raspy.

Oh, such a sweet thing. Such a sweet, clever girl. You’re going to be so, so good for him.

“Just Ghost for now, luv. Let me get you some water, you’ve earned it.”

—

You exhale slow and soft, counting every fourth heartbeat. If you don’t, you’ll start trying to break things. The smart money is on your bones giving before that stupid pipe. So. Breathing it is.

You’ve never felt out of control in anger. Everything is always so sharp and clear, you think and move with a precision you usually can’t coax from mind or body.

This… Ghost, though.

It was a pleasant surprise that he didn’t realize what you did in the alley. Too dark, perhaps. Too quiet. Perhaps he thought you were fleeing in fear.

It’s an advantage you can’t squander. He’s much bigger than you, much stronger. Carries himself with posture and purpose reminiscent of military or former military bearing. There’s a physicality to the way he moves that echos violence.

You know that you will only get one proper shot to escape. There is no point wasting it on shouting and cursing and snarling. Even if he did only consider it bluster and bark, it would plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Make him careful and conscious of any slip ups.

Sometimes, rabid animals appear friendly or docile. The virus gets a new victim close enough to turn and bite, spreading and infecting.

You run your tongue over your teeth, imagine the taste of blood if you’d bitten through his thumb like you wanted to. Inhale and exhale again, start the counter over.

Pause to resist another sneeze, blinking past watery eyes and sniffling it away. Christ, he couldn’t have at least cleaned the basement before chaining you up down here? Could barely focus on his ridiculous monologue through the allergies.

Not that you think you missed much; and you’re sure you’ll be hearing it again.

He’s just like every other man you’ve ever killed, you muse, settling in again. And it’ll be so, so sweet watching the blood bloom.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #rabid reader #simon ghost riley #simon x reader #kidnapper ghost #ghost x reader

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bit-odd-innit · 1 year

Text

“Sometimes,” Gareth drawls. He’s sitting behind his kit, twirling a drumstick in his fingers, thoughtful. “Sometimes I think this town really is cursed.” “Dude.” Jeff warns. “Let me finish. I think this town is cursed, and Eddie’s a part of it—” “Dude!” “Let me finish! Town’s cursed, Eddie’s involved, but he’s not the source. He’s a victim.”

Jeff and Francis exchange a look. ”And the true source.” He rises, getting on a roll. “The true source is hiding in plain sight, something—”

He cuts his eyes at them. “—or someone no one would expect. The true source...” He whirls his drumstick with a dramatic flourish then snaps his arm to its full extension and points outward, into the wild blue yonder that is the world beyond his parents’ garage. “...is Him.”

Him, being: Steve Harrington, parked at the end of the driveway. Steve Harrington, opening the passenger side door of his rich boy Beemer. Steve Harrington, who drove Eddie to band practice. Who’s shouldering Eddie’s gig bag. Who’s helping Eddie out of the car.

Jeff and Francis watch for a moment in silence, then turn back to Gareth in sync.

”An interesting theory.” ”Elaborate.”

“Consider the facts, boys!” He holds his drumstick to his mouth to pantomime smoking a pipe. It doesn’t really work but he’s committed to it now. “Prior to The Unfortunate Occurences Which Shan’t Be Named...”

Francis crosses himself backwards. Jeff looks down, shielding his eyes and murmuring, “That Which Shan’t Be Named.” It’s the only way they can cope with what happened last spring. It’s that or face the reality that their friend almost died horribly; that he was hunted for sport by a town that still looks at him sideways, still has not acknowledged any wrongdoing; that there’s a gap in Eddie’s retelling of What Really Happened he can’t or won’t explain, and in that gap Eddie was almost destroyed, was so brutalized he was hospitalized for a month and semi-comatose for half of it. That Eddie is different now. Wounded. Skittish. Not small, never small. But smaller.

That’s too much, man. So they make it a Bit.

“...Our darling Edward would have never associated with the likes of that.”

(That is currently smoothing down the collar of Eddie’s new battle jacket, nose wrinkling as the stubborn curl of the denim refuses to lay flat.)

”A jock? Hah! A jock and a yuppie? Hah and hah a-gain! But now, in the hereafter of...” He falters. “Certain Events...he has emerged unscathed—” “He is not unscathed,” Jeff corrects. “He is extremely scathed,” Francis adds. “Mentally, physically and emotionally scathed.”

“He’s scathed to shit dude.” “He has emerged unscathed,” Gareth barrels on, shooting them a look that says this is supposed to be a monologue. “But for one critical difference. Not only does he tolerate this...interloper’s existence, but he actively seeks out his company! I daresay he enjoys it! Thrives on it! Our jester is holding court in the empty kingdom of a fallen king!”

Francis laughs but Jeff frowns. “That’s a little mean.”

“Ah, but is it untrue?”

“Still.”

“Fine, sorry, jeez.”

(The fallen king is now holding the jester’s collar down with one hand and furiously rubbing at it with his fist, scowling like the fabric personally offended him. “You should have let me iron this,” he huffs, and the way Eddie watches Steve is so cartoonishly fond Gareth half expects a menagerie of woodland creatures to scamper out of the brush and sing a song about it.)

Satisfied, Jeff gets back on board. He hums, his mouth a grim line, voice dropping to the bottom of his register. “And you suspect the Dark Arts?”

“What other explanation could there be?” Gareth lifts his steepled fingers to his mouth, forgetting he is still holding the drumstick, and tips it forward so it doesn’t go right up his nose. He glowers in the pair’s general direction. “What do we truly know about this Hair-ington? What secrets does that follicle fortress hold? What Black Magic does this strapping sorcerer wield that has so bewitched our beloved bro?” Francis snorts. “The black magic is that Steve’s hot, and Eddie wants to kiss him.”

Gareth and Jeff stare at him, slack-jawed. Francis shrugs.

“Look I’m not into the guy but let’s call a spade a spade.”

Gareth shifts his weight to one leg, his theatrics flushing out of him. “I’m running out of steam on this, can we just talk about Eddie’s stupid crush on Steve Harrington?”

“Oh my god PLEASE.” “I have been WAITING for someone to bring it up” “I’ve never seen him like this. He is gone. He is smitten.”

“I’d go so far as to say he is straight up besotted my dude!” “Cupid’s arrow flew true and it got him right between the fucking eyes.”

It’s not the first time Eddie’s had a crush, or the most embarrassing. It’s not even that the guys are worried about what would happen if they roasted Eddie to his face—Eddie can dish it out as well as he can take it, mostly. But whatever Eddie has with Steve feels…untouchable. The first time Steve dropped him off Gareth tested the waters with something light, something along the lines of, “you think he’s gonna give you his letterman jacket?” Instead of laughing it off, Eddie dimmed, and he answered, quietly, “Steve’s just a friend.” The subject hasn’t been broached since.

But perhaps Eddie just can’t see the forest for the trees. Because from the band’s perspective…

“Oh my God are you KIDDING me?”

“What?”

“Steve just did The Move!”

“What move?”

“THE Move! You know.” Gareth presses together his palms, one slightly higher so he can curl his fingers over the ones on his opposite hand. He affects a bright, breathy voice and coos: “Hee hee oh wow your hands are soooo small compared to mine. Hee hee hoo my hands are so big and strong just like me, I could do a billion push ups, probably, and ohhhh wow! Now we’re holding hands! How did that happen! Hee hee hoo hoo ha ha ha!”

Francis chuckles knowingly. “Total Hot Guy Move.”

“A classic!”

“Is that what you think Steve Harrington sounds like?” Jeff asks.

As if on cue, Steve shifts his hand so his fingers fill the spaces between Eddie’s, and then those fingers are folding over, and then the two of them are just…holding hands, in the middle of the street. Staring at each other. Smiling.

Henderson seems just as fed up with this song and dance as the rest of them because he launches from his post in Steve’s back seat, halves himself over the center console and absolutely lays on the horn.

(That’s the other thing they don’t talk about, how clingy Dustin’s gotten. How he trails Eddie like a little shadow, like he’s been stitched to the sole of Eddie’s shoe. Like if he doesn’t have eyes on Eddie at all times he’s going to disappear.)

It snaps them out of their spell because then Steve is barking for him to, “quit it, this is a residential neighborhood!!!” and Henderson is punching out the tune to “Ride of the Valkyries” and Eddie is laughing, really laughing, his head thrown back and his eyes closed as he loses himself to a debilitating, full body cackle and for one brief, horrible moment Gareth thinks he might start crying.

Because there had been a time—Mayish, Juneish—when they didn’t know if they would get Eddie back. That part of him, the core of him, the writhing nucleus of his Eddie-ness, had been tamped down for good. And then Steve showed up. And then Steve kept showing up. And then slowly, surely, Eddie came back. Eddie’s here. Eddie’s late to band practice.

Gareth’s driveway has an incline so it takes Eddie a minute to reach them (Eddie’s working with a physical therapist to build up his quad strength Eddie’s missing sections of his internal organs Eddie almost died and he didn’t and they will never know how or why and Gareth swallows down another knot of emotion lodged at the base of his throat). When he’s at the top he bobs his chin at them and pumps his eyebrows, sheepish but unapologetic. He glances over his shoulder, flicks a salute at Henderson and Steve, beams when Steve answers with a fluttery trill of his fingers. He turns, moves to set up.

“Hey, Munson!”

Steve’s halfway in the car, forearm draped over the open driver’s side door, one foot propped on the seat. For a beat he doesn’t move, the corner of his lower lip pinched beneath the top row of his teeth. Then his tongue falls out of his mouth, he makes a little “Bleh!” noise like a B-movie vampire, and he throws the horns.

He does it wrong. He sticks his thumb out instead of tucking it beneath his middle and ring fingers. He isn’t saying rock on, he’s saying something else, cause Gareth knows a little ASL and in ASL that sign means—

Later Eddie will say his knee gave out, that he’s still figuring out how to maneuver his “busted ass body.” They let him have it, but Gareth and Jeff and Francis know the truth. Steve Harrington told Eddie Munson he loves him, and Eddie swooned. “You fellas ready to rock?” Eddie asks as he hooks up to his amp. Gareth gets behind his drum kit, counts them in, and the band plays on.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #my fanfic

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yuugen-benni · 6 months

Text

''...Excuse me ?''

Prompt: Getting hit on in front of your lover Fandom: Bungou Stray dogs and Genshin Impact Characters: Ayatsuji Yukito, Fyodor, Dazai - Freminet, Wanderer, Dehya Gn!Reader (They/them)

Ayatsuji Yukito: I feel sorry for anyone who likes jealous boyfriends because Ayatsuji is not one. While a random man is hitting on you, he will literally be standing next to you, as if testing to see if the man will realize that he is your lover. But this obviously failed. Ayatsuji is now staring at the man, raising an eyebrow and you can tell he is mentally cursing the man in a clever way. If the person gets too close, or does something that makes you even more uncomfortable, he pokes the tip, still hot, of the kiseru pipe on their forehead and push them back.

''How long will I have to listen to this ?...*sigh*... Sir, use your last remaining neuron to realize that: they're with me''

Fyodor: He laughs…HE LAUGHS. Fyodor is surprised, that you got hit? Maybe, but he's actually surprised by the man's boldness. I mean...he is scary, he exudes death so if someone is by his side it is either his partner in crime or maybe his lover.

When the ''conversation'' becomes more suggestive, he decides not to watch the show anymore and literally just take you out of there.

''It was really fun to watch, but now leave my lover alone if you don't want your heart to stop beating''

Dazai: He's a son of a b!tch, but a lovable one. Dazai will act like he's just a friend and started telling the guy about you (or rather, lie about you to protect your privacy) pretending to help the guy hit on you. Yes, he's just taking advantage of the situation; BUT YES, Dazai is also protecting you so don't be mad at him. At the end of all this performance, he will play his final card: ''They're great people, aren't they? Having them as a lover must be wonderful and guess what? They are my partner!''

Freminet: Poor thing, he doesn't know what to do! Does he explain?, Does he just push the guy?, Does he grab your hand and run away??? I believe the last option is more effective. Freminet isn't even used to talking to strangers, let alone someone hitting on his lover. But he tries, he tries hard. And when the guy becomes more invasive, he acts on impulse and pushes you to his side.

''...O-okay, I'm sorry but- you're being extremely disrespectful with my partner''

Wanderer/Scaramouche: This little man here is trying not to beat the ass of the person who is hitting on you. He's holding on so tight that his fists are white. But, as always, Wanderer pretends he's not jealous and then lets you handle the situation… before he does something he shouldn't-- but if the person is very insistent on ''having your heart'' he will definitely do something he shouldn't. He will use words… bad, horrible words or even opt for physical aggression... well you at least are safe now.

Dehya: This is a somewhat unlikely event because once you are under her gaze, nothing bad will happen to you. But, maybe, at some point when you two are shopping, and you end up distancing yourself a little, it can happen. She's prepared… a little too much, but she won't hesitate to confront the guy/girl who has started to make you uncomfortable. At this point, she won't even care if she's being overprotective or not, as long as you're okay.

''Are you blind or something? Can't you see that they're not interested ?''

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kikiyoomis · 7 months

Text

you've accepted the fact that sakusa does not enjoy physical affection. early on in your relationship you did try to initialize some small forms of physical affection but you were always met with the expression of repulse and so you quickly gave it up. so now, almost a year into your relationship there has been little to no physical affection between you and sakusa.

"so you haven't even had your first kiss even though you've been dating someone for almost a year?" your friend says, baffled at the thought of it.

"f/n nevermind their first kiss they haven't hugged or even held hands," your other friend pipes in.

"wow, y/n you're really a virgin in all aspects."

"guys it's really not that bad. he's a nice guy and physical affection isn't everything," you say sheepishly but you can't help but agree with them to some extent.

you too, aren't someone that needs physical affection as a form of love but you do enjoy it. and a little ashamed to admit it, but you do get touch starved sometimes.

there are many nights where you wished that sakusa would just hug and hold you to comfort you on your rough nights or give you a kiss in appreciation. even though he's willing to call and listen to you rant, sometimes all you want is just a hug from him as a form of comfort.

so your solution to this, was to by plushies as his hug replacement.

the first time he came over to your place roughly seven months into your relationship, he was shocked at the amount of plushies you acquired. you remember coming up with excuses about how they were so cute you couldn't help yourself but you were too embarrassed to tell him the real reason.

"i'm so happy that you're available today for a date," smile happily as you take a bite out of the homecooked meal sakusa made for your anniversary.

"i took the day off," sakusa says, taking off his apron before taking a seat across from you. you look up in surprise but you're greeted with sakusa's soft smile. "does it taste good?"

"yes it tastes amazing but why did you take the day off? the tournament is starting soon," you say. sakusa rarely took days off especially when tournaments are around the corner. you were sure that when he said that he was available today that meant that the entire team was given the day off.

"because you're important too. i wanted to celebrate this milestone with you." you face flushes red at his statement so you busy yourself with the food to hide your embarrassment.

"...thank you for taking the day off then," you say quietly, heart fluttering just like when you had a crush on him.

"y/n, there's something i want to talk to you about."

and just like that, your heart instantly drops to your stomach. what could he want to talk about? he literally made your heart flutter just a moment ago but now he makes it feel like it weighs a thousand tons all of a sudden?

"w-what do you want to talk to me about?" you stutter out, nervousness evident in your voice.

"it's nothing to worry about but..."

"but?"

"i've been thinking for a while that uh..." sakusa's face suddenly starts to turn red. so much so that the tips of his ears are also turning red. from the sweet and confident air that he had just a moment ago suddenly turned nervous and bashful.

"... thinking that... you..." he mumbles out.

"pardon?" you ask, not quite hearing what he said.

"i said, that i've been thinking about how i wanted our relationship to be more... "

"kiyoomi i literally cannot hear what you're saying," you say, suddenly wondering what he wants with you.

he rests his chin in one of his palms and he turns away from you so that all you can see is the back of his head and his bright red ears.

"i want a more physical relationship with you. i want to hug and kiss you y/n"

your eyes widen in shock. was this the same guy that displayed an expression of disgust whenever someone's hands accidently touches him? who is this and where did your boyfriend go?

"but i thought that you..." you trail off, not believing your ears.

"i wanted to for a while actually, but i thought you didn't like it so i held off on it. there were times where all i could think about was how nice it would've been if i wasn't a coward to just give you hugs and kisses like a normal boyfriend would," sakusa says sheepishly.

this was a new sakusa that you've never seen. in fact you don't think anyone has ever seen sakusa like this.

you quickly get up from your chair and walk around the table to sakusa's seat and without any hesitation you throw your arms around him.

"kiyoomi you're actually so stupid!" you laugh as sakusa jolts in surprise at your sudden back hug. but he quickly relaxes into your touch and turns so that he wrap an arm around your waist.

"yea, yea i'm stupid," he smiles before quickly planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. "happy one year my love, no need to hug those plushies when you have me" he whispers before hiding his bright red face into the crook of your neck.

#haikyu #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #msby sakusa

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irndad · 1 month

Note

Flower prompt request for Spencer Reid please!!!

Arbutus combined with Freesia.

And if you wanna add in something suggestive or downright filthy, there will be no complaints! (Or just a heartfelt fluff fest)

Thank youuuuu! (Will totally understand if you aren’t interested though!)

-🌕

hi!! this is sfw but here u go!! i hope you enjoy!! requests r open <3 flower prompts

Something’s wrong with her.

Not wrong, of course. Quite the opposite, really. She looks beautiful, a swipe of a purplish red on her pretty lips, a cowl neck dress wrapped around her form like a well-made glove. She’s a vision, and he adores looking at her- he doesn’t get the chance as often as tonight. While they get the chance to talk on the plane (when no one else is sleeping) or at the bar after cases, but this- this is an entire night she’s spent by his side.

He normally doesn’t like when the FBI does these galas, but they’re fundraising, and now his beautiful coworker who’s a little more than that is drinking rosé out of a thin stemmed wine glass. He adores the sight of her.

“You okay?” He hears himself say, and there’s a beat of silence before she looks up from her beverage, and smiles a false grin at him.

“Right as rain, Spencer.” She grins back at him, leaning back on the table they were standing by.

“You’re acting different,” he says, “You’ve been quiet, and you seem distant from the team. You didn’t have any of the cupcakes Penelope brought in, either.”

“I didn’t want too much sugar in the morning!”

“Now, that is a lie.” He finds himself smiling at her when he says it. Things move naturally with her, have a flow of conversation that takes no effort, only gentle enjoyment.

She really does look so pretty. This is a factual thing Spencer has noticed- a fact of her that he would be blind not to see. It’s evolutionarily advantageous to want to look at beautiful things. It doesn’t mean anything.

She sighs fondly down into her glass, her breath causing ripples in the wine.

“Can I tell you something?” She says, and it shocks him. He feels a bit like an insider, and adores the feeling of being on the inside of a secret of hers. He’d like to be someone she tells things to.

He nods, awaiting with baited breath.

“I went out with this guy who’s here tonight.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel so warm.

Except, it shouldn’t bother him- they’re not dating. She’s beautiful, all soft lines and curve, lovely blooming smiles and kind-heartedness, and he’s a pipe cleaner with eyes. It’s not a thought he’s entertained-

But still, in this moment, Spencer’s not blind to the image they’re projecting. Hanging back at a party, low lighting and hushed conversation, her in a beautiful dress and him in a rented tux- he could see how someone could mistake the two of them for- for something.

Did he want that?

“Spence?” She shakes him out of his thoughts, warm tone punctuated by her adorable head tipping to the side. Had she always been that adorable?

“Sorry, sorry,” he rambles, “You went out with an FBI agent?” His tone is incredulous. She jokingly slaps his arm, and he fills with affection.

“Don’t be mean! It was literally one date, it was before I knew how obnoxious Agent Bennet was. Believe me, he made me realize about ten minutes in.”

She tells him the story of their first and only date, and while he is sure it’s full of anecdotes that are effervescent and hilarious, all he can think about is date with her, date with her, date with her.

He’d be on time, if they went out. He’d be well-dressed, put together and polite. She’s so lovely, so kind and so sweet and it’s only now he realizes that this is something he can want.

“So you’d go out with another federal agent?” It’s clumsy and awkward of a question, but it seems the only time it would ever be appropriate to ask it.

She shrugs, smiling at him.

“If it was the right person, sure.”

“And Bennett wasn’t?”

“No, I don’t think so. I like a different type of guy, you know. Kinda nerdy."

Even despite this, when Spencer spills his coffee on Bennett's legal pad the following week, he can't drum up even a little bit of remorse.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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capricornlevi · 11 months

Text

on the cusp | miguel o 'hara x reader

summary:

Miguel O'Hara is many things: a patron at your bar, an occasional drinking buddy, your not-quite-friend with benefits, someone you barely know.

Or so you thought. Maybe, somewhere along the way, you've gotten to know him a bit better than you'd originally thought.

cw: alcohol consumption, casual sexual relationship, PIV intercourse, oral sex (m and f receiving) praise kink, a teeny bit of biting kink if you squint but nothing explicit and no blood/violence of any description, all consensual & enthusiastic - NSFW, MDNI

word count: 3.5k

You can count the things you know about Miguel O’Hara on just one hand – that is to say, the real things. The important things.

First of all, you’re aware that he has a stressful job. Not one to divulge any specifics, Miguel’s only description of the aforementioned job is that it involves a lot of late nights and keeps him out of town more than he’d like – you consider that to be just one fact since it all affects you the same.

You also know that his family life is … complicated, to say the least. He withdraws whenever you bring it up so you’re not even sure exactly where the issue lies; his parents? Siblings? An ex? It could be all of that or none. You learned long ago not to pry, but in your opinion, this still counts as a fact – after all, you’re aware of just how sensitive a topic it is for him. That counts for something, at least, some clue as to what made him this way: withdrawn, headstrong, and at times, a little cold.

Thirdly, you know that he drinks. Not heavily, mind, and you’d be the one to know since you work as a bartender at his favourite dive bar, the sort of establishment where people don’t try to hide their indulgences. He knows his limits and toes the line on a regular basis, never tipping over it. He is always sober enough to walk home. Which, you have to admit, is more than you can say for the rest of your patrons.

You met him at that bar - three, four years ago, depending on which one of you is recalling the story - and didn’t make much of him at first glance. He was just a stranger to you then, even more closed off than he is now. All you could judge him on was physical appearance and in that regard, he was - is - beyond imposing, towering above the next tallest person at the bar. Broad shoulders, strong arms, and the ability to make himself seem ever larger if needed – if some drunken pig started pushing you too far or refused to take the hint, Miguel never even needed to say anything to scare them off. Taking a step in their direction was usually enough to do the job. You’re not sure when it started, but that’s how you grew … not close, exactly, but … familiar.

Miguel knows you can fend for yourself - you’ve both accepted as much - but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t handy to have backup when you’re behind the bar by yourself. You had better things to do than swat away their leery advances all night, and word spread fast that Miguel was likely to step in if anyone tried their luck. It made your life a lot easier.

Now having moved from strangers to acquaintances, you learned a fourth fact about Miguel; that he really enjoyed listening to your stories. It took you by surprise at first since he’s not much of a talker – he still isn’t, but he’ll listen all night long to your rambling tales about the bachelor party who disassembled the bar’s pool table with their bare hands, or whatever new event occurred during your work week. If it’s quiet, you end up talking for hours.

Part of you felt guilty for taking up so much of his time. It feels strange to talk at length about yourself to someone who never interrupts, never pipes up with information of his own. But you soon learned Miguel likes it this way. He likes to sit at the counter with a glass of subpar whiskey with half-melted ice and listen to you, eyes following your every move, never zoning out. It relaxes him, he said once. It’s nice for him to be able to get out of his head, and if it means hearing about the ninety-year-old deliveryman who dropped off a couch infested with termites to the apartment next door, so be it.

It’s not that you never gave Miguel the opportunity to share. Every night, you tried to pry some more information out of him:

“So, have you ever worked in a bar?”

“No? Where do you work?”

“So what does that involve? What sort of work do you do?”

And you’d get a non-committal answer to every question. He has a unique talent for talking without revealing too much of himself; he’ll mumble something vague that technically serves as an answer, but you’ll leave knowing little to nothing definitive.

But this setup worked for both of you, so you never objected too much.

That’s how things were for two years (or maybe three). For the most part, he’d come in a couple of hours before closing on quiet nights, so you were able to talk til last call. It was nice – and it still is nice, because you still have the same routine – for the most part.

There’s just one significant change.

The fifth and final thing that you know about Miguel O’Hara - the most exclusive fact, since it’s a secret between the two of you - is that on the nights when he gets to take you home, he wants to fuck you like you’re both in love.

And it’s a fact you’re completely sure of since his face is currently buried in between your thighs, whispering unintelligible praise into your soaking folds.

The ‘in love’ part isn’t actually true, really, you don’t think. You’re not sure it’s even possible to love someone you know so little about. But when he’s like this, tongue swirling your clit with a look on his face as though he could do this all night, you know that this is what he wants.

Intimacy. For just these fleeting moments you share.

And, like the other little things, you’re more than happy to give it to him.

“ F-fuck,” your broken moan echoes around your bedroom, your hands pawing at the covers of your unmade bed, “right - right there, fuck, yes, yes, keep going.”

Miguel’s lying on his impossibly toned stomach, half-naked since he only had time to remove his shirt before setting you down on the bed and spreading your legs open, and he’s more than happy to take instruction. He stays in that spot, flicking it with the perfect pressure, mumbling something about adding a finger.

Your head is swimming but you manage to reply - or make some sound that shows your assent - and you feel him press a thick finger into you, an easy slide with how wet he’s made you, curling up for just a moment before it slides back out.

Then back in, then out, and all the while, you’re crying out for him.

You think he likes it when you say his name in bed. You don’t count it as a fact since you’re not completely certain, but whenever you do say it, he makes a low, groaning noise deep in his throat and speeds up whatever he’s doing – licking you, touching you, fucking you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was possessive.

Now, with you saying his name over and over and over again, he looks up at you with heavy, lidded eyes, an animalistic desire flashing over them. It’s enough to make you shiver. The power in his body, the strength he possesses …

He is never rough without your consent, but when his eyes get that hazy look and his grip on your thighs gets a little tighter, you can see how he keeps his impulses on a tight leash.

If you were of a clearer mind, you’d wonder again what he actually does outside of the bar, outside of this, what could get him worked up to this extent.

Thankfully, your thoughts are very much elsewhere. Right now, they’re focused on how quickly your orgasm is building, low and hot in the pit of your stomach.

“ Miguel ,” you gasp, voice pitching upwards as he adds a second finger – this time you really feel the stretch, but it’s anything but unpleasant. It makes that ball of heat burn brighter and brighter, your thighs shaking around Miguel’s face, your breaths coming out in short pants.

“ Miguel, fuck, oh -”

His fingers are hitting just deep enough, just in the right spot, you can hear how wet you are, you can feel how you’re soaking his hand and mouth, how much he’s enjoying this, maybe even more than you are –

When you come, it’s almost blinding. You could feel it building but it somehow took you by surprise anyway, it always does; the intensity, the duration, the way Miguel keeps licking you open until you’re trembling with oversensitivity.

The waves wrack your body continuously. You’re more than happy to get lost in it, to relinquish control and let it wash over you.

It’s so much that tears collect at the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks when you eventually regain the strength to sit up.

This is the sentimental part. Miguel sits back on his haunches, wipes his soaked lower face against his bicep, and leans over to wipe the tears away with his thumb. When there’s no trace left, he leans in a little further to press kisses on the apples of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your lips that part against his.

It’s enough to make you ache, but everything else is so enjoyable that it keeps your mind elsewhere. You don’t want to overthink and ruin this. That’s the last thing either one of you needs; the loss of this outlet.

You run your tongue against his lower lip and he groans, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. You kiss him fervently, tasting yourself on his mouth, and notice how the already-noticeable bulge in his pants hardens even more as you start to rock back and forth against it.

He kisses back hungrily, strong hands gripping your waist. Every time he kisses you it’s like the first chance he’s ever had to do it, as though he’ll never get the opportunity to do it again.

Somewhere in the haze, you remember the actual first time; the time you closed the bar early on a particularly quiet night. He helped you lock up, stack away chairs. He laughed at your shitty jokes and toasted the night with a shot of whiskey, and then you two were kissing, he was backing you up against the door, caging you in with his arms as you started to tug his shirt off.

Though you dispute the exact date, you both agree on the details. How could you forget images of him holding you up against the door, legs wrapped around his trim waist, your bare shoulders pressed against the cold wooden panels but not caring because everything else was burning, so hot and so perfect -

“Help me with my belt?” Miguel murmurs into your ear, warm breath over exposed skin raising goosebumps all over your neck.

He likes to see you do it, likes to see your fingers scramble to get the loops of his belt undone, so desperate to wrap your hand around his length – as much as you can, anyway, since your fingers don’t meet with you stroke him.

You manage a little nod before working his belt open, willing your fingers to stay steady, and soon, his pants are pulled down and tossed to the floor with the rest of the clothes, leaving him in black boxer briefs that do little to hide the straining in the front.

He’s the one who takes off his underwear since the sight of you rocking against his thigh is too much for him to keep up the pretence of teasing. Soon, he’s completely bare before you, his thick cock bobbing against his stomach and …

You want your mouth on it. Not just to return the favour, either, you want to hear the desperate grunts that escape him as you suck him off, you want to feel his hand at the back of your head, guiding your movements.

You want it, so you do it.

“Oh - ah, ah, fuck, you - you’re gonna kill me,” he says, half-slurring as you wrap your lips around the head, lapping at it so you feel it throb against your tongue. “F-fucking hell, oh - oh my god.”

You’re not sure why the sound of him so desperate gets you going like this, but it does. Miguel, for a man so secretive, contains multitudes; he’s animalistic, possessive, but he’s not afraid to show desperation. Maybe even vulnerability.

In bed, of course. Only ever in bed, but you’re fine with that. Completely fine.

You moan as he leaks onto your tongue, hitting deeper and deeper with every thrust into your mouth.

A couple of minutes later, you pull your head up and run the tip of your tongue down the prominent veins on the side of his length. The noises he makes have you feeling more than a little self-satisfied, knowing your touch reduces him to this.

You go to take him fully in your mouth again but he stops you, cupping your jaw carefully as he sits up straight.

“Can I fuck you?”

You know that he’s asking now because he’s getting too close with you sucking him off. He doesn’t like the risk of edging before he gets to actually fuck you, and when his voice gets all low and heated and with just a hint of pleading buried deep in you, you know it’s a matter of urgency.

By way of answering, you climb back into his lap. You kiss him again, sliding up and down his length as you do so.

You look down, but Miguel catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tips your head back up so you’re looking him in the eye.

Your next breath comes out shaky and tattered, your chest rising and falling.

He’s so close. Of course, since you’ve fucked countless times before, you’re no strangers to closeness. But the intimacy of this, of the eye contact and the embracing and the pretty names he calls you when you ride him … it feels new every time.

“I want to see your face as you sink down on it,” he grumbles, his throat bobbing between the words. You want to bite him there, sink your teeth into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck — not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel him tense underneath you. You want his body to go rigid, taut, you want him on a hair-trigger, you want him to be free of the thoughts that haunt him and just surrender to this sensation.

You want him to be able to lose control, for once. He’s earned it.

You kiss just under his ear, teasing the sensitive skin with your teeth as he gasps - gasps - and cants his hips up, his fingernails pressing into the flesh of your ass so that it’s just shy of painful.

You smile, lips curling against his throat. He’s just where you want him.

Moving slowly, inch by torturous inch, you kiss every part of exposed skin you can. As your eyes move further down you see a constellation of pink bruises forming on his throat, and, keeping your unspoken promise, you lift your head to look him in the eye as you lower yourself down on his cock.

Even after having his fingers inside you, it’s still a stretch; but again, a pleasurable one. You can feel everything, every ridge, the shallow thrusts as he adjusts to the feeling of you wrapped around him.

The only light in the room is from the lamp at your bedside, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate – no, you definitely can, they darken so much his irises go almost black. Hungry, like before. Somehow tender as well, as though you’re his favourite prey.

And he’s yours, too.

You start to lift up and down, balancing yourself on your left knee and the ball of your right foot as you ride him, the pace gathering a momentum of its own.

Both moaning with every thrust, you still hear the sound of skin-on-skin bouncing off the walls around you. Your bedframe creaks, your sheets crumple underneath; you don’t care about that, only focusing on riding him so well that praise spills from his pretty lips.

“Beautiful, beautiful, so fucking perfect for me,” he whispers, the words sounding almost torn, “you were fucking made for me, d’you know that?”

“Hm?”

You ask only because you want him to say it again. He’s happy to oblige.

“You were fucking made for me, made to ride my cock, made to have my tongue in your pretty cunt,” he says, voice bleeding into a low groan. “So … so perfect, I could fuck you for the rest of my life.”

You know you’re both only hooking up with each other, nobody else. You had that conversion before, right when you went on birth control and started forgoing condoms, but the words sound different now. Like they carry a weight even Miguel doesn’t realise.

It sounds reverent, adoring. In the deep, dark, fantastical part of your brain that you only occasionally indulge, he’s saying he only ever wants you. He needs you and only you, always, and this is the only time he allows himself to admit it.

But that train of thought will lead to overthinking, and, as you noted earlier, this isn’t the time for that. Right now, Miguel’s words are having other effects too; you’re throbbing around him, wet, more turned on than you ever remember being. Your clit grazes against the thatch of dark curls at the base of his cock, and every time you take him fully, the sensation has you choking out weak-sounding mewls of pleasure.

Keeping one of his hands on your hip, Miguel lifts the other up to play with your breasts, biting his lip so hard you think he’ll draw blood. He tweaks one of your nipples and you tighten around his length, and you know by the way his brows furrow that he’s close.

You love this moment the most. Seeing Miguel lose control, surrendering to the pleasure, it’s gratifying in a way that you can’t put into words. For the weeks when he doesn’t have the time to go home with you, because of work or responsibilities or whatever it is that keeps him away, it’s this image that you picture in your mind when you lay in bed, touching yourself.

His strong jaw tenses, his features twist with pleasure, and you come undone just looking at him.

He bucks up into you as he comes, pulling you against his chest while you writhe helplessly, boneless in his arms.

It’s good, too good, better than the first. It radiates throughout your whole body. Every limb, every muscle, every nerve is bathed in a warm glow that doesn’t pass until the sweat starts to cool on your skin, until Miguel’s breathing has slowed back to normal.

You stay like that just a moment longer, head resting against his chest, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat.

You savour it while you can – you think you were wrong earlier. There’s a sixth fact you know about Miguel, and it’s this; after you’ve finished fucking, after he kisses you another time and helps you get dressed, he always, always leaves afterwards. You stopped taking it personally after the third time and now, it’s just part of the routine. It doesn’t sting quite like it used to, but it’s not exactly something you look forward to, either. It’s just another unanswered question.

You pull your head back and give Miguel a lazy smile, one that he returns. He kisses you, soft and slow, unaware of how it’s messing with your mind – but you don’t stop the kiss, either.

When you eventually break apart, you sit back on the bed and smooth down the covers as best you can, distracting yourself as you await the inevitable.

Miguel doesn’t move. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds pass, and he goes nowhere.

You stop your fidgeting, throwing him a curious glance. Another beat passes of surprisingly weighted silence. Miguel opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly having a tough time getting the articulation just right.

You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to – for the first time since you’ve known him, he eventually answers your unspoken question.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

The words are delivered plainly, devoid of a deep sentimentality, but you know the significance of him asking them. His expression is earnest. He means what he’s asking.

It’s not like it’s life-changing. It doesn’t mean the routine is disrupted, it doesn’t mean that he’s your boyfriend or that you’re in love or any of the other nonsense that forbidden part of your brain filters in every now and then.

But it’s something. It’s a start.

Your routine has changed before, it can stand to be changed again. Maybe you’ll learn something new.

“Yeah,” you answer after just a moment spent thinking it over, heart quickening in your chest for reasons you can’t quite explain, “yeah, you can stay.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #may tries to write #miguel o'hara x you

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bunnys-kisses · 3 months

Text

virtual - toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader rating: 18+ summary: Toji Fushiguro had his vices. He was a man of many of them, drinking, gambling, the occasional smoke, and the womanizing. Oh, the womanizing. Toji loved his fresh meat of the week, the pretty thing with daddy issues that hung onto his strong arm. But he had another vice, the kind that was nobody’s business. tags: pwp, cam worker!reader, hair pulling, biting, dark(ish) themes, toji is your number one fan, 3.1k

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Toji Fushiguro had his vices. He was a man of many of them, drinking, gambling, the occasional smoke, and the womanizing. Oh, womanizing. Toji loved his fresh meat of the week, the pretty thing with daddy issues that hung onto his strong arm. But he had another vice, the kind that was nobody’s business.

He loved a cute cam girl on a sketchy website under the username ‘DeerlyDoe’. He had seen your face a few times, but he had always seen your body. And he liked what he saw. He loved a girl with a little meat on her bones who knew how to use those curves.

He wanted to do unsavory things to you, nothing illegal or heinous. He wanted to see what those glossed lips could do. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he did want to make you scream his name.

“Shit,” He grunted to himself as he pleasured himself in front of his shitty computer. The internet in the hole he lived in was terrible, your perfect body was all pixels but he couldn’t deny the heat in his body from seeing you.

He relaxed in his chair and stroked his cock. he was a quiet tipper, he sent tips anonymously. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself, even though the tips were large. The excitement in your voice when you saw the number was enough for him.

Currently you are riding a dildo that you stuck to the tile floor of your kitchen. He watched your body shake with each movement. It made his cock tense in his hand, thick like a pipe and solid like a brick. He groaned through grit teeth as he continued to stroke himself.

His face felt hot and a bit of drool ran down his chin in his pursuit for pleasure. The pleasure was building up in his gut the closer he came to climax. And he could tell you were getting close as well. He began to edge himself so he could have the pleasure of finishing alongside you. There were many things he’d do in order to see it in real life. To watch your body move before his very eyes.

He heard your moans get higher and before he knew it you were finishing all over the dildo. You soaked the toy in your wetness. The sounds that followed your aching pussy around the dildo brought Toji over the edge.

He created a mess to the front of his sweatpants, but he felt relaxed. He dropped his arms over both sides of the chair and exhaled deeply. “Yeah.” He said breathlessly.

Toji never imagined that he’d ever meet you in real life. He knew you were located in Japan, but he ever expected to see you in Shibuya. It was late spring and the rain came down in sheets, but Toji was crawling the streets looking for a way to kill time.

At a crosswalk, he noticed someone beside him. He looked over and saw a familiar sight. Now of someone that he knew, but his little fixation on the internet. His eyes went wide at the sight of you. He was in disbelief at the sight but then he noticed that you were trying to protect yourself from the rain.

Without thinking he tilted his umbrella to cover your head. What he noticed next was how beautiful your eyes looked when you gazed up at him. He never expected to run into someone to beautiful. So how the hell did Toji end up back at your place with you digging through your belongings to find something big enough to change in. He thought it was impossible for you. You were so small, and he was so big. How was he even going to fit in anything you owned?

The DeerlyDoe was in front of him, digging through his expensive wardrobe to find something for him to wear. How endearing. He watched your ass as you were bent over. He even was a little wiggle as you dug further into the wardrobe.

He wondered how expensive your clothes were, and how much would you have lost if he tore the items off of you? The thought made him smirk but he dropped it when you turned around with a simple compression shirt and shorts in hand.

“That's all I have, it’s from an ex-boyfriend. I’m glad I didn’t throw it out.” You giggled sheepishly.

The idea of you having a boyfriend made his chest freeze. But he composed himself with a cough and replied, “Well, I’m glad you had it. There was no need to do this much for me. Thank you.”

“You gave up your umbrella and got all wet! How could I not repay you?”

He smiled as gently as he could, “Fair point. But I am still thankful.” He started to strip his clothes off and you observed his partially naked body.

You swallowed and felt heat rise in your cheeks. There was a strange man in your home. You tried to create a little room for him to change, but he kept getting closer. Like he enjoyed your closeness. You felt your heart stammer.

What were you thinking letting this strange man into your home? But those dark eyes and that scar. He was a bad boy, and you had your little fixation of bad boys. You swallowed once more then smiled at him. “I hope it fits.” You said, “You can take it home with you.“

He chuckled softly, ”Actually, I was wondering if I could take you home. I think you'd look good on my bed.“

The blush felt like it reached your scalp as you covered your mouth with your hands. You let out a small 'eep' noise from the embarrassment. Which only in turn made him laugh.

Once he was changed, he went over to you and took your hands away from your mouth. He looked down at you as he held your wrists probably a little tighter than for someone as delicate as you.

“No one invites strange men into their homes unless they want their ducts clean or their pussy ate.” He grinned at you, enamored by your shyness. It was so much different than the woman in the live streams. But he still loved it.

“Mister Fushiguro, sir.” You squeaked. He had told you his name when you walked back to your home. He held your wrists to your head to keep you steady, and he leaned in for a solid kiss. Your eyes closed and you felt the hammering in your chest.

By instinct you held onto him as you leaned up to meet his kiss more. The shirt felt familiar, but the muscles underneath did not. You gasped into the kiss as he cradled the back of your head.

When he pulled away you asked, “Is it too late to ask you to clean my ducts?” You giggled nervously.

He ran a thumb across your bottom lip to see if the lip gloss stayed on. He replied, “Interesting.“

”What do you mean?“ You asked curiously.

”Don't worry. As much as I love the clothes you've given to me. I think it's best if I take them off. How does that sound?“

You looked into those dark eyes and nodded, anything for him. You saw him smile, it almost looked terrifying, like you were the prey and he was the predator. He kissed your lips once more before he started to take off the clothes you lent him.

Your heart raced at the idea of being intimate with this man. It had been so long since you had actual sex with someone. Usually you did things alone in your tiny apartment. But here was a man, a very handsome man, taking off his clothes in front of you.

The sight of his muscles as he took off the already tight shirt made you gasp. He was perfection, he wa danger, he made your head spin. It wasn't until his hands were back on you that you realized that maybe you should get undressed as well.

You felt heat in your body as you removed your sundress and left you bare in a simple bra and underwear. Your breathing was growing rapid as the heat in the main room grew warmer. You whispered, “I'm sorry if I don't look very good.“ You crossed your arms self consciously.

He pulled your arms away from you and held both wrists in one hand. He leaned in and tucked hair behind your ear, “I don't want to hear you say that ever again. If I didn't want a taste of that pussy, then I wouldn't be here now. I want you to be a good girl for me.” His breath was hot and left tingles down your spine.

He told you to leave him in the bedroom and you did as you were told. Afterall you were a good girl.

You couldn't believe what was going on, but a curious part of you went along with it. You were used to performing in front of a camera, but to have the real thing sent excitement through you. You blushed as you opened the bedroom door and Toji pressed his front against your back.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked seductively.

You nodded, “Please, sir.” Then moaned when he started to feel up your breasts. You held onto his strong forearms, you could barely get your hands around them. You could feel his erection against your back, which made you grow even more flustered.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You know, I watch you perform almost every night. You help me relax, I always wondered what that pussy tasted like.”

“You mean-”

“Yeah, DeerlyDoe. I know that your pussy can take a beating.” He smirked into your ear before he bit your neck. He played with your nipples over your bra, “I've had my fantasies about you, what I'd do to you. Do you think tonight we can try some of them out?”

“I've never had sex a fan before.“ You admitted.

He chuckled, ”Don't worry, I'll go easy. Maybe you'll like it so much that you'll never even think about having sex with a fan again.“ His voice was hot in your ear as he continued to touch you. His grip was rough as he played with your breasts.

You took off the underwear you wore and got onto the bed. You laid out for him to see every curve of your body. You watched him lick his lips as rain battered your window. Your nipples were hard from his teasing and between your legs was slick from the arousal.

He smirked once more, ”What a sight. A proper whore, ready to accept any cock she's given.“ He watched you grow flustered once more and he approached the bed. His hard cock bobbed with every step, ”I hope you know, I like it bare. I think you can tell, no condoms fit me.“

You swallowed and nodded. You watched him get into bed and you felt his length graze your thigh as he got closer. Your body felt electric and hot. Your heart was racing. You weren't too sure how it was all going to fit inside of you, but you had to try. Your core throbbed for the feeling of it inside of you.

”Dirty girl.” He remarked as he kissed your neck. His teeth dug into your skin, hard enough to leave an indent. You rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. He groaned against you, you felt amazing. He could feel the sweat on his back as he pinned you down to the bed.

“Please, sir. Fushiguro, sir.“ You whimpered like a puppy which only aroused him further. His cock moved against your thigh once more and he caught a hint of how wet you were between your legs.

He groaned, the time for foreplay was over. He kept your arms pinned above your head with one large hand and your legs tightly locked around his waist. He gazed down at you with lust marking his face. With his free hand he guided his cock into your sweet pussy. He felt the stretch of your sex and he groaned.

You on the other hand were tense and it ached. You couldn't grip onto the bed for support. Your back arched but he kept you pinned down to the bed. Your heart raced as he sank himself inside of you. It was a tad painful, but it felt so good.

”Good girl.“ He groaned, he could've climaxed so easily but he edged himself not to. With one hand on your hip and the other holding you down, he began to thrust his hips. His cock pushed further inside of you and you moaned so loudly. Your noises made a shiver run up his spine to ecstasy.

”Please, sir.”

“I know you can take it, I've seen you take more than this.” He growled. He recalled every dildo and toy you ever used on yourself. You once told the stream you liked the pain. He watched you moaning as you gasped loudly.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the two on you fucked on the bed. The bed creaked from the movements and eventually Toji sloppily made out with you to shut you up. You felt the pleasure and the pain mix together in a way that left you speechless. You tightened your legs around the other man and tried to meet his pace.

Your heart raced and when he parted the kiss you said, “Fushiguro, ah, please.”

He smirked down at you, and your eyes gazed upon the scar on his lip. Part of you wanted to lick it, but he kept you pinned to the bed. You whimpered loudly some more and Toji let go of your hands but found his large, calloused hand in your hair. He yanked on the strands to pull you up towards him.

He held your hair in his hand as he bit your bottom lip and kissed you. You whined into the kiss from the subtle pain across your lips. Your heart hammered in your chest as he dropped you back on the bed and leaned back a little to get a better angle of his thrusts.

You saw stars as his cock hit every sweet spot inside of you. It felt like his cock was in the back of your throat the way he was moving inside of you. The sheer size took the wind out of you with each powerful thrust. You were becoming addicted to his feelings for him. It was arousing.

“Good girl.” He said with a low growl to his voice.

You were sweaty all over as your body moved up and down on the bed. You gasped loudly as his cock bulled your cervix, it was so different when it was a real person rather than a toy. You managed to get a hold of the covers under you and anchored yourself as his thrusts got more aggressive.

He groaned against you as he continued to move his body. His thrusts became erratic in a pursuit for climax. You gasped, moaned and whimpered which only encouraged him. His body throbbed with a need for release. This felt like nothing he had ever felt before, and he had his fair share of pussy.

He could tell why you were so good at what you did. His breathing was rapid as he held onto your hips with both hands and pushed his cock as deep as it would go. Sweat dripped from his hair down his back muscles.

There was so much he wanted to do to you, right now was just the taster. He licked his lips with want as he watched your heavy breathing. You were a total slut, you loved anything that would stuff those holes of yours.

He wanted to bite, bruise and mark you. To make you his. He'd let you do your shows but maybe his name tattooed on your thigh would be a reminder to your viewers that you were a taken woman. The thought made his cock throb. Maybe he could convince you of that. But first he'd have to break your brain while fucking it out of your skull.

He hunched over and dug his hands into the bed under you. He growled as he felt the pleasure race through his body. This felt good, you felt good. His muscles moved with each thrust of his hips. He knew he was getting close.

As were you.

The sex was rough, extreme to an extent. But you were both lost in the vastness of pleasure that you two kept going. You reached out for him and made out with him once more. He groaned into the kiss and put one hand in your hair again.

He pulled on it and you groaned into the kiss. Your pussy clenched around him and he made a noise that came from deep inside of him. That felt good.

The best continued to creak as the two of you fucked like two horny animals. The feeling was becoming overwhelming and you knew that you were both going to orgasm soon. You pulled away from the kiss and panted wildly.

“You're so good.' He grumbled, “Such a good hole to fuck. I might have to keep you to myself. See what else those hips can do. I'll need a good fuck after the work I do.” He grabbed your breasts so tightly that you knew they were going to put purple bruises come morning.

You whined and arched your pain from the pain, but yet it still made you core throb for him. With another heavy thrust you came all over his cock, you coated it in your wetness. You let out a high-pitched moan that was more erotic than anything that he ever saw online.

You went laxed on the bed but still held onto the sheets as you let Toji use your body to achieve his own orgasm. The bed continued to move, with it hitting the wall. Your breathing was heavy and your mind felt hazy.

With a few more thrusts into your tight cunt. he finished inside of you. He groaned as he did so before he leaned forward once more and gave you a searing kiss. You two made out with his softening cock still inside of you as the both of you came down from your orgasms.

“Sir.”

“Good girl, I hope you're ready for more because I'm not done with you. Now be a good girl and get on all fours for me. I want to see what ass.” He groaned against you before he pulled you in for another searing kiss.

You knew that you'd be seeing a lot of Toji Fushiguro after this, he may have been a fan but now he's making you feel really good and not from high donations.

#bunny writes #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujustu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

Note

The TADC cast with a reader who’s a fluffy droopy eared bunny like the picture above.

Those eyes have absolutely no thoughts behind them just vibes (that may or may not include various types of cake)

Readers just a little fella,an absolute pal.they give soft plush hugs but the catch is that their like 7’5 tall.their super kind and patient and somehow always know what to say or do to help the cast.

(Also…JAX FIDGET HC!! He totally flops their ears about)

TADC cast x big soft silly plushie bunny!reader!!!!!

uueueueue the macarons i made earlier ended up so good!! easily some of the nicest and prettiest ones i made recently; not like bakery level pretty but none of them collapsed or cracked! main issue is that some of them kind of have a tip or bump on the top from the piping!! otherwise theyre solid!! gonna answer some stuff then i might go draw then hit the sack

CAINE:

i like to think that he took one of your ears in each of his hands and lifted them up, messing with them a bit before letting them flop down to your sides. has probably tried to blow you away with spectacles and grand gestures only for you to blink dully at him... oh... was he saying something..? you werent really paying attention... always reties your bow/bowtie when it comes undone, he cant have you not being ... not presentable..! very much endeared by your sweet demeanor and very loudly asks for hugs every now and then

POMNI:

has probably waved her hand in front of your face to see if you were awake and/or alive, genuinely thought that you were a real normal plushie the first time she saw you. got jumpscared when you slowly moved your head to look at her. oh dear! please reassure her that everything is fine!

since shes new you have taken to hovering around her during IHAs to make sure shes safe.. you have probably picked her up to your chest and made a run for it. like literally just pomni held flat to you and you just running with her. silly, i think

RAGATHA:

one of my favorite ragatha headcannons that lowkey becoming a given and my go to; she makes you accessories to go on your ears! bows and ribbons and the like! she thinks you look so so cute; vaguely reminds her of a bunny doll she used to have in her childhood, at least thats her guess judging by the warped and murky memories of her old life in the real world. has accidentally left you behind because you were spacing out and thinking about whatever it is that goes on in your head... thinks youre as sweet as can be, probably calls you "carrot cake" or something along the lines

"sweetie bell"

sits

JAX:

messes with your long droopy ears. not uncommon for him to just grab one and run his thumb over you false fur and fabric. he thinks youre too soft; literally and metaphorically. you make a great cuddle buddy and give great hugs, but youre just too nice for your own good. and on the off chance that youre actually paying attention when hes setting up a prank for someone, you put a stop to it. pulling pranks is mean, especially jax's style of pranks! you cant have that!

jax definitely pouts off to the side when you sabotage him.. youd think the two bunny folk would get along with one another!

well its not like you guys dont get along, youre too nice for that and sometimes i feel like jax's conscious would step in at least once and he would try to be nicer to you, at least for a day

KINGER:

sometimes he likes snuggling into you within the pillow fort, your body is just so soft and warm and comforting, youre literally just a giant teddy bear- er... bunny! stuffed bunny! honestly he probably hangs around you more than he would hang around a normal reader simply because youre just so sweet and soft, as well as inviting. you both tend to space out together.. do you think he accidentally put you in the walls of his pillow fort, before he realized you were a whole person ? like do i think kinger is that dense? no, but i do think that the thought it really really funny and silly and i can definitely see it as a gag

ZOOBLE:

tries to pretend that theyre not into how soft and comfy you are.... but they find themselves subtly leaning into you when youre nearby. i would say that they would be blunt with wanting to be held or wanting a hug like they are with everything else.. but i think when it comes to affection, zooble can be a little... eh... like theyre bad at saying what they want when they want it, at least verbally.. your softness makes up for the fact that they feel like those hard plastic kids toys

sometimes get a little annoyed by your... empty eyed look... because sometimes its really hard to tell when youre paying attention or not

GANGLE:

love love loves snuggling into you after a rough day, bonus if youre fixing up her comedy mask while she presses her other masked-face into your fluff and venting about her day. oh that jax is so so mean! please rub her back... her.. ribbons, actually. honestly hugs from you are s tier and the very best because as said several times before, youre really soft and comfortable. you guys tend to lock yourselves up in gangles room and hang out when a IHA isnt going on; and thats just fine with the both of you because you have one anothers company

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 2 months

Note

okaaaaaaay i think im now madly obsessed w yan player amor so what if barista reader noticed and slowly became uncomfortable w his uncannily nice advances and overly big tips and all that knowing he has quite the reputation? but i think that the gods also shot an arrow into my heart as i read abt yan player >< <33

Yandere! Male! Player x gn! Barista! Reader part 2

An order of Amor coming right up!

"He's here again."

One of your coworkers nudged your side, smirking at your deadpan face. "Aw, what's the face for? Aren't you happy that you got such an icon pursuing you?"

You want to gag.

Amor has been going here, everyday. Drinking the same coffee, eating the same cake. It's been like that to the point that you'll prepare the order beforehand.

He always come to the cafe at 7:30 in the morning, walk up to you and with that dumb smile on his handsome face, he would say "Hello darling. One order of caramel machiatto and a slice of red velvet please." And you would hand the order immediately just to minimize interaction.

But he would stay at the counter just to smile creepily at you.

It doesn't help that your coworker would gush about how lucky you are, how amazing it is to have THE Amor fawning over you.

But guess what, you didn't care. You wanted out.

And you made sure Amor knew about it.

You ignored him, always adamantly returning his ever so generous tips, and shooting him down whenever you had the chances.

On the other hand, Amor is getting quite... Pissed.

Why aren't you falling for him?

He made sure to wish for every person to fall for him in his next life, which is this current life. So why aren't you fawning over him? Even the god of love doesn't have an answer at all.

It was infuriating.

You were so close. So painfully near to his grasp but so far. You were like an unreachable dream to someone so selfish as him. Like a punishment for being so over himself.

But, he's the Amor. He gets what he wants.

So, begging to his family, throwing a quite embarrassing tantrum, he managed to...

"MOM! DAD!" You yelled at your parents as they stopped arguing. The dark circles below their eyes were a signal that something's wrong. Terribly wrong.

They looked at each other before your mother gave a pointed look at your dad.

"Do not tell them." Your mother seethed, but your dad groaned.

"They deserve to know!"

"But they don't live here anymore! They don't have anything to do with our debts!"

Debts? Your parents had debts?

You looked at them incredulously, not believing at what they're talking about right now. Your parents were pious, they never, ever had debts and always were good people. So what's with debts? And why haven't they paid it yet?

"Dad, mom, debts? You guys made sure to pay them always if you did get debts or favors or whatever." You raised your hands in disbelief. You had a bad feeling about this.

"It's just that, we somehow got debted to the Kim's." Your dad said, worried.

"Kim's?" You asked. "There's too many Kim's! Which?!"

Your gut feeling made you remember a certain playboy.

"You know, that Kpop idol Taejoon Kim. With his wife the miss Universe Alyssa Kim? Their son... Amor Kim."

Your eyes widened, a feeling of dread creeping up your back and making you shiver from the sudden chill. No way, right?

"How did you even get debted to them?" Your voice carried a humorless laugh that seeped out a bit of fear. Your parents looked at each other before your mom sighed.

"I work in that fancy hotel, right?" Your mother grimaced. "I apparently broke their pipeline? I swear I was only in the pipe system to investigate the rat problem but I bumped into a faulty pipe and now the whole hotel is flooded... That hotel was owned by Mrs. Kim..."

Your father fidgeted on the spot also, looking away.

"The company I work at, had this pipe system too, and as their main cleaning manager I manage the waterline. I thought I could fix the problem by myself... Ended up flooding the building also... Owned by Mr. Kim."

You shivered from the weird coincidence. Both pipelines? Really? How did that even happen?

"So? Both of you are going to pay for it?" You asked with a slight grit on your voice and they nodded.

They looked so defeated, it broke your heart into tiny smithereens. The anger flared up for Amor once more.

"Those rich people..." You seethed.

"It was our fault dear." Your mother cooed, hugging your frame. "I... I wasn't careful enough."

"Me too. I should have called for an expert." Your father frowned sadly.

You never felt so helpless in your entire life. If only there was a way to help them.

"How can I help..?"

This time, your parents froze and they coughed loudly, looking away.

Another bout of the twisted gut, you looked at them with worry in your eyes. "What is it?"

"I-it's nothing, dear." Your mother whispered, avoiding eye contact. "We will find a solution ourself."

"No! If I can help then I will!" You stepped up to them. Your body moving in order to meet their evasive eyes. "Please! Look at me! What is it?"

"Ah..." Your father looked at your mother before whispering something to your ear.

"No."

Goosebumps riddled your body as you froze from the sudden shock going through your form. "Marriage?! What is this?! The 17th century?!"

Your parents looked at each other before shrugging. "It's really weird, dear. There's so many other chaebols out there who's more rich than us. But why you? We're not rich at all."

The whole situation was so fishy.

And a flash of that lovesick look Amor slips through sometimes came up on your mind.

You're too smart for your own good.

You knew it was due to him.

You had enough.

You can't just let your parents suffer like this.

So, with a heavy heart and a defeated look, you held their hands and hugged them both. "Thank you for taking care of me for my whole life, mom and dad."

A loving whisper, and a touch affectionate, your parents knew of your plan. And they paled.

"No! Dear, this is not your burden to carry!" Your father shakily let out. "You... You have so much to live for!"

"Look at the bright side, dad! I will be... Uh, rich! We will be!" You reasoned, trying, scouring for the bright side to this situation. "It's okay dad. Rather than being homeless trying to find money to pay for such a huge debt. I would take this road for the both of you."

Your mother started to weep, and you inwardly died.

You can't believe Amor would stoop this low.

You don't even know him that well.

And as you, in an elaborate and extravagant wedding garment, reach your hand towards the extended ones of Amor, with that triumphant and obsessive look that you abhor, you cursed him inwardly.

You never stood a chance.

The gods are on his side after all.

You are now his, fully.

Now it's up to you if you want to make his life miserable, or melt into his arms.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #tw yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Text

Hotel Room

PAIRING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2392

SUMMARY: changing plans midway into a mission in Tokyo- you, Tangerine and Lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train.

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. dry humping, pinv, unprotected sex, pull out. no use of y/n MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is my first post and im a little scared to post it, so please plz be kind. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible, however I accidentally made Tangerine kinder than I had originally planned and changed some things about the film plot so it doesn’t create a domino effect in this- aka Tan dying

rewritten 09/12/23 - no change to the plot, just made it less crap

"I don't think we should be getting this train," you mutter like you were talking to yourself, eyes darting across the busy platform of the station. "Guys?" you repeat, turning to see only Lemon behind you. "I don't think we should get this train."

"Yeah?" Lemon hums, sounding distracted.

"I have a bad feeling. The next one is in thirty minutes. I say we wait," you respond, wary eyes glancing around.

Tangerine joins you both, looking over the tickets he just collected. "What's that now?" he questions, brows furrowed.

"I got intel someone I used to know might be on here," you murmur, avoiding the Twins' focused gaze.

"Like an ex?" Tangerine prods, his tone slightly cautious.

"No— stop it. I'm being serious," you emphasise, eyes squinting to show your annoyance.

Usually, when others act possessive around you, you'd turn the other way - having no interest in games. But when you talk about other guys in front of Tangerine, you'd often notice how his forehead vein would subtly protrude, like he was bubbling with rage from the inside - keeping it hidden. Though you'd always notice. It wasn't hard to tell when he was jealous. His quick, snappy comments are often the main giveaway.

"Alright, alright. Keep'ya knickers on, bellend," he scoffs, crossing his arms and widening his stance as if he was trying to intimidate you - which it doesn't.

"Okay, so, you remember Johannesburg? When we saw that guy— dirty blonde, mid-length hair? Facial hair? Yellow outfit. Looked like a prisoner? That one?"

"No, not really," Lemon adds, shaking his head - looking clueless.

"Lemon. You shot him— a few times."

"No, not ringing a bell," he continues, just as clueless as before. "Oh, you mean Joburg?"

Tangerine pipes in, sighing. "Yes, you daft fuck."

"Well, I was just checking."

"Yeah, but it ain't important now, is it?" the twins bicker, overlapping each other.

"Oh my god," you mutter, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Right, anyway, none of that's important. I used to work with him— Ladybug, like way way way back. I got a tip-off he's gonna be getting this train, and he's clearly been assigned to snatch that case," you nod to the silver briefcase tucked under Lemon's arm.

"We can keep the case safe. We got hired for that reason," Tangerine adds, subtly reassuring you.

"No, no. That doesn't matter. He's seeing a new therapist, and he's got some weird fate, destiny thing protecting him— like everyone except him gets hurt. I dunno about you, but I don't really feel like getting shot at again today."

You look between the brothers, eyes softening like you are talking without words - telling them things to make them take your side, to make them see that you're trying to protect them. You find it harder to pull away from Tan's fixed blue gaze, feeling strangely hypnotised under his attention.

"Okay," Tangerine agrees simply. "We'll wait," he nods, extending his hands towards you, resting them on your shoulder as if he's comforting you - telling you in his own way that everything will be okay. He rips his hands away when he hears a cough from beside him - Lemon suspicious at the placement.

The kind gesture wasn't long-lived, but it helped. A lot.

You suggest staying in a nearby hotel for the night, offering to try again in the early hours of the morning. The case would be safe, and that's what mattered.

————

You and the twins walk into the quiet hotel lobby, asking for three rooms - preferably all next door to each other. Once collecting the key cards, you make your way up to your floor, letting yourselves into your rooms with a quick nod to one another, silently saying goodnight.

After the nonstop events of today, all you wanted was to shower. To wash away the grime of the day, literally.

You throw your overnight bag on the floor and do a quick sweep of the room to check it's safe, then head into the bathroom, stepping into the shower to begin a lengthy wash.

Afterwards, you pat yourself dry with a fluffy hotel towel, dressing in an oversized tee when you hear a few rhythmic knocks at the door. You look through the peephole to see a wet, curly-haired, ‘stached man - there was only one person that could be.

You tug on the hem of your t-shirt, covering your exposed thighs as you open the door, greeted by Tangerine on the other side wearing a baggy tee and a pair of boxers.

His eyes leisurely travel over you, slowly pulling away from your thighs that you subtly tried to hide. He coughs, clearing his throat like he's refocusing, diverting his attention from your lower half back to your fresh face.

"Just doing bed check. And you are... ahem," he masks the pause in another cough. "You are accounted for. So that's. That's good."

"Right, okay," you murmur, purposely keeping your gaze fixed on his face - stopping your eyes from glancing lower.

He hesitates, lingering like that wasn't all he knocked for. You wanted to invite him in. To hang out for a bit. But you get all finicky and squirrely when it's just the two of you, and you never know what to say or do. It was like you couldn't think straight, his aftershave and biceps acting like a barrier in your brain. Besides, it's not like anything can happen between you anyway - he didn't like you in that way.

He clears his throat once more, scratching the back of his neck. "My tv ain't working. I don't wanna watch Lem's shit, so can I watch some in your room?"

Letting out a small puff of a sigh, you agree and move aside, allowing him to walk past. He settles in almost instantly, shimmying himself under the covers and flicking through the channels, trying to find something good to watch.

You sit down awkwardly beside him, leaving a safe and comfortable gap between you, subtly scootching away when he moves closer to you.

"What's up with you? You're being well weird," he asks, diverting his attention from the Japanese game show to you, looking over you with furrowed brows.

"I'm not being weird. You're being weird," you divert, crossing your arms over yourself, trying to minimise space. "Just trying to get comfy."

"That's cos'ya hanging off the bed, knobhead. Get closer, then."

He swiftly pulls you closer, gently dragging you towards him so that both of you are leaning against the headboard, his arm draped over your shoulder.

It was the complete opposite of what you were trying to accomplish - now smushed up close to his side, forced to smell his masculine shower gel. You had no idea what to do with yourself.

You have only been this close in proximity a few times. And on those occasions, one of you would always be drunk - never to be brought up again. But when you're sitting so close to him, both completely sober, your brain can't help but stir up those feelings you've been trying to suppress.

Lewd and vulgar thoughts spiralled around when you feel the steady sound of his heartbeat against your arm, everything so casual and natural - like everything was a breeze with him. Your mind begins to wander when you feel him shift beside you, legs spreading, groin adjusting like he was making himself comfortable - like he was situating himself in your bed for the night.

In your line of work, you don't often experience genuine human interactions - ones that are soft and gentle, ones filled with tender love and care. Every encounter lately has ended in a blood bath - literally.

So when you feel Tangerine's hand slip into yours, you can't help but overthink it. It was so unlike him to physically show how he felt, so it was tricky not to question his motives.

His thumb swipes over your hand, softly squeezing yours, so you decide to look up at him, but he is already focused on you - the tv a mere thought away. The way he looked at you was so unexpected, so different to all the other times.

All you could offer under his concentrated attention was a faint and gentle smile, nose softly scrunching as you held his gaze. He returns with a boyish grin, tache twitching with the movement.

You momentarily break eye contact, quickly glancing down at his lips. You thought you were sneaky, but the way his breathing ever so slightly faltered told you otherwise.

He slowly leans towards you, his movements articulate and calculated as he pulls you in for a kiss, working over your lips carefully and considerately. His large palms nestling on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - everything turning somewhat desperate. Hasty.

His mouth travels away from your slightly bruised lips, now working along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Muttering faint groans into your skin as you tug on the damp curls at the back of his head - holding him close to you.

Tangerine's movements remain dominant. In charge. Guiding you and bringing you down the bed, laying you flat on your back so he can situate himself between your spread legs - hovering atop of you with his chest pressed to yours.

His cock feels firm against you, tucked and slotted perfectly between your thighs, nudging and brushing your clit with every subtle move he makes.

It wasn't long before you found yourself whimpering into his mouth and toying with your hips, the dry humping working you up more than you had thought.

He parts from your lips, looking into your hazy, blissed-out eyes -ones that mirror his own- and begins to lazily push up your tee, stroking up your stomach, exposing just what he wanted to see; plushy tits and cute soft tummy.

You help him out of his t-shirt, wanting to see more. Eager fingers trailing over the contours of his stomach before pulling him back to you, his happy trail brushing against your abdomen - chests sandwiched together.

He trails a faint line of kisses down your neck and along your collarbone as he slips himself from your grasp, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He picks up your hand, sliding his gold rings onto your fingers. "Look after these for me, would'ya?" he whispers, kissing the back of your hand.

It's then that he finally slips a hand between your legs, faintly trailing up and down your slit, teasing you as he palms his cock through his tented boxers, circling over the wet patch of fabric - right by his head.

His gaze remains lidded, lazily looking over you as he dips his hand into the waistband, rolling over his aching cock a couple of times. Your eyes respond pleadingly, silently begging him to hurry up.

Your keen fingers make haste movements, brushing over his boxers like you were trying to strip them from him - doing his job for him.

He answers your prayers and tugs down the fabric, flinging his briefs to the edge of the bed, letting his thick, hard cock spring free. He grips himself at the base, guiding his head towards your slick hole - rimming his tip around before slowly easing in.

He goes slow, steady. Like he has all the time in the world. Letting you adjust and accustom his size, deeply filling you. Bottoming out.

With his cock stuffed inside, he leans over you once more, hovering over you and caging you to the mattress - your arms and legs clinging onto him, wrapping around him like a monkey on a tree.

"Fuck me," Tangerine blabbers, voice hoarse and incoherent. Hot grunts against your throat as he winds into you, cock grinding inside you. "Christ."

He brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks, holding you still so he can lap over your lips, swallowing your whimpers - your sweet pretty sounds muffling against his tongue.

Your touch mirrors his, moving your hands from his back to hold either side of his face, pushing away a stray curl that fell. Holding him close. Keeping him there.

Tangerine quickens the pace, fucking into you a little better. More deliberatly. The curve of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls in the most sinful way.

He chases your release, wanting to feel you shudder and tighten around him - wanting to feel you cum on his cock. So, he parts from your lips and trails messy open kisses over your cheek, halting when he reaches under your ear.

"You feel so perfect wrapped around me— you're so perfect," he hazily whispers, talking low. "God— yeah, that's it," he nods slowly, encouraging you. "You're right there, pretty girl. I can feel it."

With his soft praise, you find yourself gripping onto his dick, tightly clamping around him as you cum. Moaning sweet cries senselessly into the crook of his neck.

Your release triggers his own, pumping his thick, warm load onto your stomach, biting back broken groans as he milks the rest of his cum onto your jittering tummy.

He leans back over you once more, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pushing himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Returning with a lusty smile and a wet washcloth, he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, gently wiping it over your stomach before doing the same with his cock, rubbing the fabric over his leaking, messy tip.

"We should've done that years ago," you whisper, flattening your tee down your stomach.

"Fuckin' years ago," he coyly grins, raking back his now-dried curls.

Your smile widens, meeting his eyes. "You, uh... you can stay over? If you want... so you— you can watch tv?" you offer, trying to persuade him - finding a reason for him to stay.

"For the tv," he chuckles, nodding. Playing along

He slips into the bed beside you, tugging the covers up and settling himself next to you. His large, warm arms find you under the sheets, holding you to his side.

"We got an early start. Get some sleep, love," he whispers, placing a delicate kiss on your temple. "Goodnight."

#tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fanfic #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #tangerine bullet train #smut #aaron taylor johnson

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daisies-daydreams · 3 months

Note

HIYA BABES 🥰✨ ITS ME AGAIN. Ready to sin 🙏. Bimbo reader with hobie brown..SOMETHING ABOUT THAT IDK..recently my page has been nothing BUT bimbo reader and i fell victim to them. Maybe something fluffy and airy? But def smut with it..but like in the beginning it can be that reader is getting ready to go out and obviously her outfit is bimbo core (I LOVE dressing like that.) short and pretty but definitely too revealing for outside, so hobie goes out with her (with consent). He’s like a guard dog but not to an overbearing point..hobie definitely knows he has nothing to worry about. Not when reader looks up at him like he hung the stars in the sky. The outfit definitely does things to hobie and yeah. Just a cute little date thing. Idk where the smut comes in from 😭 ALWAYS FEEL FREE TO HOLD MINE OFF IF YOU GET TOO OVERWHELMED. LOVE YA MUCH 💙✨ SO GLAD YOURE BACK

Juicy (Hobie Brown x F!Bimbo!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x F!Bimbo!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Warnings: Depictions of Drinking/Hangovers, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Swearing, Hickeys, Oral Sex (F!/M! Receiving), Face Sitting (Reader on Hobie), 69, Nipple Play, Unprotected P in V (You Know the Drill), Missionary Position, Mating Press, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Aftercare Word Count: 6.6k+ A/N: Hello hello! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so glad someone suggested Bimbo!Reader (the thought of that pairing has been eating me alive lol 🤭😳). I hope you enjoy! The reader's outfit is similar to this with a few changes

You paused when you stepped out of your room, your hoop earrings jingling softly as you tilted your head. You smiled gently when you saw your friend, Hobie, passed out on your couch. He’d usually come and crash at your place after long nights of playing shows or whatever mischief he found himself in. You hummed quietly as you grabbed one of your blankets and draped it over his lanky form.

“Sleep tight,” you whispered. You continued to hum to yourself as you sashayed to your bathroom, your hot pink crop top just barely hiding your tits as you reached into your medicine cabinet. You grabbed your lip gloss and mascara before shutting the mirrored cabinet. You swayed your hips side to side as an upbeat song played inside your head. You pursed your plump lips as you swiped your glossy, pink lip gloss across your mouth. You rubbed your lips together before puckering them out, smiling to yourself giddily as you set your lip gloss aside.

“Where you goin’ lovie?” Hobie hummed from the doorway. You gasped and dropped your mascara, the bottle hitting the porcelain sink with a loud “clink!”. You glanced over to see him lingering in the threshold of your bathroom.

“God, Hobie! You scared me!” you giggled. Hobie chuckled as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“Mhm,” you said with a suspicious, raised brow. You turned back to your mirror and unrolled your mascara. You arched your back a little as you leaned forward. “Anyway, I’m just heading to the pub down the street to watch the match. My stupid TV’s broken again,” you sighed as you brushed the thick, dark makeup across your lashes. Hobie pursed his lips.

“I told you I’d fix it for you,” he replied. You frowned and fluttered your lashes before applying a bit more.

“I know…but I don’t want to be a burden,” you said as you gazed at him with a slight frown. Hobie sighed before taking a step forward.

“You’ll never be a burden to me,” he said as he gently cupped your cheek. Your heart fluttered as he caressed your face with his warm palm. You laid a hand over his and smiled sweetly.

“Thank you, Hobie,” you beamed. The tall man before you nodded as he let his hand fall back to his side.

“No problem, love,” Hobie said. You tapped the tip of your white boot against the plush bathroom rug. His eyes scanned you up and down. “Would it be alright if I came with you tonight?” he piped up. Your eyes lit up as your heart glowed.

“Are you kidding? Of course you can come!” you giggled and wrapped your arms around him, your plump breasts pushing against his chest. Hobie chuckled as he patted the middle of your back.

“Sounds good. I’ll be waitin’ for you at the front door,'' he smiled brightly before slipping away. Your heart leapt as you finished getting ready. You slung your cute, pink purse over your white, fluffy jacket before walking into the living room. Hobie parted his lips as you walked out, your bra and thong peeking out of your crop top and short jean skirt.

“You ready to go?” you asked while biting your lip. Hobie swallowed thickly and nodded as he opened the door for you. “Why, thank you,” you beamed. The lanky man cleared his throat before he came up behind you. You raised a brow as he popped his elbow out.

“My, my. Aren’t you a gentleman,” you teased before slipping your arm into his. Hobie chuckled softly as the two of you walked out of your flat.

“What can I say - Nan raised me right,” he shrugged. You giggled as your hips swayed while the two of you began to make your way towards the pub. The cool night air washed over your form, goosebumps raising over your exposed skin as your boots clicked against the cracked pavement. You hummed as you pulled a cherry sucker out of your pocket, crinkling the wrapper and tossing it into a nearby bin.

“Not gonna eat there?” Hobie asked. You shrugged as you popped the sweet candy between your glossy lips.

“I might. I just like having something sweet before I drink,” you smiled brightly. You noticed Hobie’s gaze softened as he looked down at you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, the white stick poking past your plump lips. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly grabbed you. You gasped as the lollipop fell from your lips when he pulled you back against his chest. A car honked loudly before barreling down the street, the vehicle swaying back and forth before making a sharp turn.

“Wanker,” Hobie scowled as he squeezed your arms. You blinked as you slowly turned towards him, your hands trembling as you placed them on his chest.

“T-Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing at the thought of being nearly squashed by that car. Hobie nodded, his hands slowly dropping from your arms as he smiled gently.

“You’re welcome, lovie,” he murmured. The tips of your ears warmed as you realized how close the two of you were, your hands still splayed across his chest. You bit your lip as you looked both ways.

“Right…guess we should head inside,” you grinned. Hobie returned your expression as both of you made your way into the crowded pub. The sounds of people charming and shouting erupted from the slightly cracked door. Your cheeks flushed as Hobie ghosted his hand over your lower back as you walked up to the front stand.

“Two for tonight?” a blonde hostess asked as she popped a bright pink bubble of gum. You nodded.

“Yes, please!” you chirped. The hostess checked a piece of paper before her eyes lit up.

“You’re in luck - a booth just opened up,” she beamed. You smiled as she grabbed two menus for you. You looked up and furrowed your brows as you watched Hobie remain strangely still, his eyes scanning over the crowd as his jaw tightened.

"Are you okay?" you whispered and nudged his arm. Your friend blinked and hummed.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Just spaced out," he shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets. The hostess cleared her throat.

“Follow me,” the blonde grinned. You tugged on Hobie’s arm, slipping your own through the crook of his elbow as you followed the hostess through the crowd of people.

“Sorry!” you whispered loudly as you squeezed past several men. You noticed Hobie turned his head towards each man you passed before you finally stopped at a small, empty booth.

“Your server will be out any second. Enjoy!” the hostess chirped.

“Thank you!” you smiled brightly. The woman nodded before shuffling back to her post. You grinned as Hobie slid into the seat across from you. You sighed and squeezed your hands together, your glossy nails rubbing against the inside of your hands.

“So, how’s the band doing?” you asked excitedly. Hobie drummed his fingers on the table as he pursed his lips.

“They’re doin' well. Done a lot of shows recently, so we're taking a break for a bit," he said while scratching the back of his head. You hummed.

“That’s good,” you replied. "Where's your next show going to be?" you asked. Hobie pursed his lips as he drummed his fingers against the table.

"We're thinkin' of doin' it at Slotts' in a coupla weeks...but you don't know that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled and gave him a short nod.

"Of course," you winked back. You glanced down at your menu before the crowd erupted with cheers. You shifted your gaze to the TV: Chelsea just scored, several players jumping on the field and tackling each other.

“What ‘bout you? Haven’t seen you in a while,” Hobie piped up as he rested his hand over his menu, his silver rings shining beneath the dim light of the pub. You sighed and closed your menu.

“Nothing much. Still working as a bank teller these days,” you said in a bit of a despondent tone. Hobie nodded.

“So that’s where you keep getting that candy,” he chuckled. You giggled.

“Yeah. It’s become a real problem - I need to switch to something less hard soon,” you joked. The man across from you laughed, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling with mirth.

“You’ve got a real good sense of humor, (Y/N),” he chuckled. Your body flushed with heat as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Aw, shucks, Hobie,” you giggled. A server suddenly appeared in front of your table, his mouth curved into a perpetual frown as he stared at you.

“What can I get you?” he grunted. You smiled as you shuffled in your seat.

“Could I have a tall old speckled hen, please?” you asked. The man scribbled down on his notepad before turning to Hobie.

“Same f’me,” the tall man across from you replied. The waiter gave a silent nod before making his way over to the bar. Hobie turned his attention back to you.

“Old speckled, eh?” he raised a brow with an amused grin. You snorted.

“I’ll be able to handle it,” you said with a flippant wave of your hand.

Two Hours Later…

You met Hobie’s wide eyes as he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Hey, Hobie!” you giggled as you wobbled on your table. Several men were mesmerized by the way you swayed your hips to the music playing on the jukebox.

“Mamaaaaa! Oooooooh!” you belted, a few of the patrons joining in with you. You blinked as Hobie quickly pushed his way through the crowd, his brows knitted together as he flashed you a concerned look.

“Hobie!” you squealed before your ankle suddenly gave out. The man beneath you quickly steadied your standing; his large, warm hands bracing your legs as you hiccupped. “Come up and sing with me, Hobie!” you said as you wiggled your hips, the men around you hypnotized by your movements. You blinked as he squeezed your hand.

“C’mon, love. Let’s head on home,” Hobie sighed, his beautiful lips parted. You whined.

“But I’m having such a good time!” you pouted and started to stumble around on the tabletop. Hobie frowned as he brushed his thumb against the back of your palm.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he urged you with a pleading expression. You pouted before eventually sighing.

“Okay,” you murmured. Hobie kept his hands on your legs as you squatted down and started to crawl off of the table. The manager soon came out and gave you a deadly glare.

“The bloody hell is your girlfriend doin’?” he scoffed. You glanced down at your white boots while Hobie held you close to his side.

“She was just havin’ some fun, no harm done,” Hobie snapped back as he slung one of your arms over his shoulder. The manager sputtered as your friend guided you through the sea of swaying, drunk patrons. Your face grew hot when you realized the manager called you Hobie’s “girlfriend”. The thought made your body shiver slightly as your heart leapt beneath your sternum. You clumsily walked (more like dragged your feet) across the street, Hobie remaining by your side the whole time he guided you to the sidewalk.

“You’re so good to me, Hobie,” you cooed. He shifted his gaze over to you and smiled.

“I know, lovie,” he sighed softly. He gasped when you started to fall forward, your legs wobbling as he caught you. Hobie sighed as he threw one of your arms around his shoulder and hoisted you up. He studied your features before he parted his lips.

"What were you drinkin' so much for, anyway, hm?" your friend asked as he carried you towards flat. Your head spun as you frowned, your heart sinking a little even in your intoxicated state.

"I...I guess I just wanted your attention," you hiccupped. Hobie blinked, his features softening as you stumbled onto him. He grabbed your waist as you face planted into his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears as Hobie gently helped you back up, his large palm cupping your cheek as your vision began to fade.

"You've always had my attention, love”.

+++

You groaned as your head pounded, the room around you spinning as you slowly blinked your eyes open.

"Ugh, what the hell happened?" you asked groggily. You tensed when you felt someone's arms wrapped around your torso, their warm breath falling against the back of your neck. You swallowed thickly as you slowly turned your head, your body relaxing when you saw Hobie fast asleep beside you.

Hold on-

"HOBIE?!" you gasped as you scrambled onto your hands. His eyes instantly shot open as his breath hitched.

"(Y/N)?" he asked before drawing out a loud yawn. Your heart raced as his arms slipped away before he rubbed his eyes.

"What are you...how did we-" your mind was reeling as you tried to sort through your memory of last night. Hobie blinked a few times before he leaned on his side, his ripped, red shirt riding up his torso and revealing his lean abs. You bit your lip as your friend grunted beside you.

"You were completely smashed last night, so I carried you home," he explained nonchalantly. You slightly lowered your shoulders as you slowly nodded.

"Okay...but how did we...I mean, did we?" you made a few hand gestures while awkwardly glancing down. Hobie chuckled softly as he shook his head. "No?" you asked while perking your head up.

"No...you just asked me to stay with you," he said with a warm smile. You sighed and fell back onto your bed, your heart melting at his kindness.

"Thank God," you breathed. Hobie quirked a brow at your words. "No! I mean, not that I wouldn't, you know-" you groaned as you covered your face with your hands. Hobie remained quiet as he shifted beside you, his warm body barely caressing over yours.

"Do you want to?" he murmured. More heat rose to your cheeks as your throat tightened.

"You mean...have sex?" you breathed, each word growing more quiet with the last as your chest tightened. Hobie nodded as he leaned his head on his palm, his expression soft and inviting. You felt a spark of arousal light in your core as you gazed at his alluring, parted lips and down his dark, scruffy happy trail.

"You don't have to do anythin' you're uncomfortable with. I just-" Hobie's eyes widened as you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a heated, wet kiss. You closed your eyes and cupped his face as an insatiable hunger overwhelmed your body. Hobie sighed as he smoothed one of his hands over your hip, his other brushing over your face as he tilted his head.

You squeaked as he pulled you against his lithe body, something hard suddenly rubbing between your thighs as you moaned softly. Your lips glistened with your combined spit as you gulped for air. You shivered as Hobie stared into your eyes, his pupils blown wide and breath ragged as he squeezed the supple flesh of your hip.

"I thought you'd never ask," you confessed. You heard a low rumble rise from his throat before he dove back in. You trembled in his hold as he pressed his lips to yours, tenderly brushing over yours as he played with the band of your short skirt. You squealed as he slipped his warm tongue past your swollen, parted lips - his wet muscle eagerly dancing with yours as you bucked your hips forward.

"Fuck, you drive me wild, (Y/N)," he gasped before swiping his tongue along your lower lip. You panted and squeezed your thighs together as he kissed your chin and along your jaw, his fingers tugging on the thin band of your hot pink thong. "Every time I see you in one of these outfits, I have to stop myself from takin’ you right then and there," Hobie groaned before puckering his lips over your sensitive pulse. You pulled back a little as you laid your hands on his chest. He paused and deeply looked into your eyes.

“Please…don’t stop now. I never want you to stop,” you confessed with a low moan. A spark of lust ignited in his dark eyes as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he murmured. Hobie quickly crashed his lips against yours, hungrily devouring your mouth in a passionate, sloppy kiss. You keened as he pecked along your jaw as his hands slid beneath your shirt and push-up bra. A soft moan escaped from your lips as he tenderly massaged your tits and brushed his calloused thumbs over your hard nipples.

"Bet your pretty pussy tastes just as sweet as you," he moaned into your ear before puckering his lips over your sensitive pulse. You nearly choked as he squeezed your nipples between his fingers, tugging on them gently as he ground his hips against yours at a faster pace. "Would you like that, sweet girl? My face stuffed between your perfect thighs?" Hobie grunted, his lips dancing over the fresh hickey on your neck.

"God, yes," you mewled as your walls fluttered at the thought of his thick, juicy tongue parting your puffy lower lips. Hobie grinned against your wet skin before slowly rolling onto his side. Your whole body trembled with anticipation as you watched him lie on his back, his eyes raking over your barely covered body. Your thighs shook as you slowly pulled your slightly soaked thong down your legs and kicked them aside with your short jean skirt.

“Take your time if you need to, baby,” he gently reassured. Your cheeks warmed at his caring voice while you bit your lip. You slowly raised your skirt up as you slotted your thighs across his lithe waist. Hobie groaned lowly as you crawled on top of him, his hands falling over your waist as you wiggled your hips.

"God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," he murmured as he slowly slid his palms up and down your hips. You froze just before you reached his face, shivering as his warm breath fell over your slick folds.

“A-Are you sure about this?” you asked him with a gulp. "What if I break your neck or suffocate you?" you muttered and looked away. He raised his brows before leaning up and puckering his plump lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped and gently bucked your hips forward as he moaned against your dripping, warm sex. He released his mouth with a loud “pop” before gazing into your eyes.

“I want nothin’ more than to feel you sit-no, ride my face until my mouth is completely soaked with your cum,” he said lowly while licking his already glistening lips. A soft moan escaped from your throat as your cheeks swelled with heat. “C’mon, lovie. I won’t bite…unless you want me to,” Hobie smirked before licking a bold, sloppy stripe along your slit.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped as he pushed your hips down on his rugged face. You grabbed the headboard of your bed as he messily dug his tongue between your puffy labia, his nose grinding against your engorged clit. Your eyes rolled back as he audibly groaned into your cunt, his nails digging into your thighs as he voraciously devoured your sweet juices.

“God, Hobie,” you whined while gently grinding your cunt over his face, smearing your arousal across his lips and chin. Your jaw went slack when he swirled his wet muscle around your puffy bud, his fingers gently caressing your supple thighs as he flared his nostrils.

Your knuckles turned pale as you squeezed the headboard, your thighs quaking with every eager swipe of his soft tongue across your aching pussy.

“Yes,” you threw your head back and sobbed. Hobie’s eyes rolled back as you continued to rub your dripping cunt against his mouth, a low groan sending shivers through your quivering sex. The lewd, slick sounds of his tongue painting over your labia drive you further into a lustful frenzy.

“S-So good, baby,” you panted and nearly fell forward when he slipped his thumb over your swollen clit. The bed creaked as you thrusted a little faster, the feeling of his lip ring rubbing against your entrance making your head spin and thighs clench.

You squeezed your eyes shut as he massaged your tender button while sliding his tip past the rim of your tight entrance.

“Fuck!” you moaned as you felt the muscles in your lower stomach start to twist into a tight knot already. The way his tongue flicked and caressed your sex, his hot breath fanning over your clit every time his thumb came up - it was all too much.

“H-Hobie!” you cried as you fully sank down on his face. You heard him suck a sharp breath through his nose as your pussy pulsed against his smooth lips. Your breathing grew ragged as you white-knuckled the headboard, your bed creaking and groaning as he sloppily made out with your cunt. A sharp smack of his lips and swipe of his thumb finally made you tip over the edge. You cried and babbled incoherently as your jaw went slack, your legs shaking around his puffy wicks as your body grew rigid with bliss.

“S-Shit, Hobie,” you choked as your walls pulsed, your puckering hole gushing with your slick. A shiver ran down your spine as Hobie voraciously slurped up your juices - his tongue darting out and capturing every drop he could. You moaned as he continued to tenderly swipe his thumb across your bundle of nerves, his sharp chin supporting your perineum as he slowly blinked his eyes open.

It took a few moments before you slowly pulled your hips away from his face. Your jaw dropped when you saw how soaked his face was. Hobie chuckled as he swiped his tongue over his lips, his eyes half-lidded and completely mesmerized by your fucked-out expression.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said as you reached over to grab a tissue. You paused when he rested his hand over your wrist, a lopsided grin written over his sharp features.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it…I like it when my girl makes a mess,” he purred before pecking your swollen nub. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his warm lips glide over your sensitive bud before he swiped the tip of his tongue over it. But even more so…the fact that he called you his girl made your knees weak and legs turn to jelly. Hobie smirked as he smoothed his thumbs over your hips.

“You like it when I kiss your pretty clit like that, hm?” he chuckled before pressing a few more quick, wet kisses to your bundle of nerves.

“M-Mm yes,” you keened and squeezed your thighs against the sides of his head. Hobie furrowed his brows when you suddenly slid down his lithe body. You sighed as you pressed your breasts together and rubbed your fingertips over the button of his jeans.

“Lovie?” he murmured, his hickory eyes fixated on the gentle sway of your hips. Your heart skipped a beat as you played with the band of his pants.

“Please, Hobie. I wanna make sure you feel taken care of, too,” you breathed while trailing your hands down his dark happy trail. Hobie groaned as he propped himself up on his forearms.

“Alright…on one condition,” he said with a mischievous smirk. Your eyes widened as he suddenly flipped you around, your face hovering above his hard, throbbing, cock while his lips just barely grazed over your raw, swollen pussy. “You let me have a second serving,” he blew a puff of air over your labia. You squeaked as a pulse of heat swept through your core while he nibbled and tugged on your folds. You arched your back and let your legs rest over his chest.

“Please, Hobie,” was all you could manage, your mind growing more and more foggy with arousal. You whined when he suddenly pulled his face back.

“‘Please’ what, (Y/N)? Use your words, sweet girl,” he teased. You could practically feel the smirk on his face as he spread your asscheeks apart, his lips mere centimeters from your weeping sex. You keened and threw your hips back as you clutched the band of his jeans.

“Please let me suck your cock while you devour my pussy,” you moaned and wiggled your hips. Your jaw dropped when he suddenly dove between your supple cheeks, his tongue vigorously swirling around the seam of your tight hole. “S-Shit,” you groaned as you hastily unbuttoned his pants. The sound of his zipper mixed with the wet, sloppy noises of him indulging in the sweet flavor of your pussy. You gasped when you pulled down his black brief, revealing a long, veiny cock.

His dick throbbed as a thick bead of precum slid down his mushroomy tip. You licked your lips as you wrapped one of your hands around his base, the sudden feeling of his breath on your asshole making you whimper and twitch above him.

“Fuck, you taste divine,” Hobie growled before enveloping his whole mouth over your raw cunt. You squeezed the base of his cock, drawing a deep groan from your lover as you slowly swirled your tongue around his aching tip. You flared your nostrils as you slowly sank your mouth down on his bulbous head, your nails digging into his thighs as he parted the seam of your entrance with his long, writhing tongue.

You moaned around his dick as he gently thrusted his slick muscle into your hole, his hands squeezing and massaging your asscheeks as he grunted. You had to take a deep breath through your nose before you sucked in your cheeks and slowly sank your head down on his length. You flinched above Hobie when he gave a sudden, sharp thrust deep inside your core as your soft mouth glided along his veiny cock. You couldn’t help but lightly grind against his chin, your engorged clit deliciously rubbing against his warm skin as he pumped his long muscle along your velvety walls.

You only sank down halfway and already had to suppress the urge to gag, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as your throat tightened. You shifted above him, resting your arms across his upper thighs before wrapping one of your palms around the base of his cock. Hobie groaned into your pulsing heat while you stroked his length in time with bobbing your head.

“Fuck, just like that,” you heard his voice muffled into your folds before he dove back in. You squealed and dipped your head down a little faster while he slide his tongue back inside your tight little hole. The sweet smell of sex and sweat wafted through the air as the two of you moaned against each other.

“Can’t hold on much longer,” you thought as your eyes watered while he curled his pink tongue inside your slick, gummy cunt. You whined as you squeezed his shaft while slobbering over his hard, throbbing sex. Both of you grew more sloppy with your movements as you felt your body shiver and tense with pleasure. You squeaked when he dug his nails into the plush of your ass and slid his face back and forth, smearing your slick across his mouth and massaging your bundle of nerves with his chin.

You moaned and opened your throat up as your second orgasm crashed over you, your body trembling with bliss as you nearly choked on his long dick. Hobie inhaled deeply as he eagerly slurped up your juices, his tongue lashing in and out of your pulsing walls as your legs shook around his head.

“Yes!” you screamed internally as you squeezed the base of his heavy shaft. Your head spun as you sucked hard on his cock, drawing a deep growl from your lover. Your eyes shot open when you felt long, heavy ropes of his cum paint the back of your throat. You relished in the way his dick twitched against your tongue, the small groans that left his lips while he desperately bucked into your soft mouth.

You kept your cheeks hollowed and lips curled around his shaft as he panted beneath you, his body shivering and balls tightening under your hold. You gasped when Hobie suddenly slid his tongue out of you, his breathing ragged as he pumped his ups up.

“Mmm, baby girl,” he moaned as the last stream of his cum splashed against your raw esophagus. You let his dick rest against your tongue for a few seconds before you slowly pulled your mouth away with a wet “pop”. You gasped for air, your lungs burning a little as you trembled above him.

“How you feelin’?” Hobie asked as he smoothed his hands over your hips. You licked your slightly swollen lips before eyeing a thick bead of white leaking from his tip. You smirked and pressed your lips to his head. Hobie’s breath hitched when you swiped the tip of your tongue across his slit before swirling it around his entire head.

“Good,” you replied as you peeked over your shoulder and wiggled your hips again. Hobie’s chest rose and fell below your stomach as he rubbed your waist.

“God, you’re incredible,” he suddenly praised before pecking your cunt for the last time. You tried to steady yourself as you climbed off of him, your limbs shaking like leaves on a tree while you rolled beside your lover. Hobie’s eyes sparkled with affection as he gazed at your flushed face.

“Lovie, I know that was a lot…but do you think you’d be able to handle one more?” he panted while slinging one of his arms around your back. Your eyes widened a little as he mindlessly traced his fingers along your hip and lower back, his eyes soft and half-lidded as he eyed your body. You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yes,” you whispered while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You sure?” Hobie asked, his voice still dripping with lust yet carrying a gentle tone with it. You grinned and nodded.

“I’m sure, Hobie. But…won’t you need some help getting…you know-“ you blushed and looked down at his now soft cock between his legs. Hobie chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose, the smell of your arousal clinging to his face making your cheeks swell with heat.

“Don’t worry about me...right now, all I want to do is make sure the world knows your mine,” Hobie’s breath hovered over your neck as his hands slid up your stomach. He sat back on his knees and tossed his shirt aside before kicking his pants on the floor. You gasped when he pressed his body against yours and began to grind his cock against your swollen folds. You moaned and spread your legs a little more as he unzipped your jacket, letting the puffy fabric fall open to reveal your hot pink crop top.

“Mmm look at you,” Hobie kissed your ear as he rolled your shirt over your shoulders. You shivered as his nimble fingers expertly unclasped your bra and tossed it on the floor. You blushed and turned your head as you laid completely exposed beneath him, your perky nipples hardening as he sucked in a sharp breath. “God, you’re perfect,” Hobie murmured as he slid his fingers up your sides. Your face flushed as you bit your lip.

“H-Hobie,” you breathed. You felt him smile against your skin while he brought his hands back up to your breasts. You flinched as he suckled on your neck while tenderly squeezing your tits. He rocked his hips forward, drawing a high-pitched moan from your lips as his cock glided over your sopping wet sex.

“Fuck,” you hiccupped while Hobie tilted his head and licked a long stripe over your raw hickey. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck as he squeezed and pinched your sensitive nipples. Your mind grew fuzzy as the tip of his dick rubbed against your swollen clit, his veiny cock spreading your slick labia apart with every stroke.

“Makin’ such cute noises f’me,” he chuckled lowly before lightly tugging on your buds and sucking against your neck again. You snapped your head back and arched your spine as you felt his wet, warm lips curl over your skin, his dick starting to twitch and harden against your aching sex.

“Mmm!” you whined as the bed began to creak and groan beneath his rutting. You dipped your head into his thin shoulder as he bunched the supple flesh of your breasts within his large palms. Your breath stuttered as he sloppily kissed down your neck and nipped at your collarbone.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Hobie growled. You whined when he suddenly pulled away, his cock slipping from your sex as he panted wildly. “Need you now, baby. Please,” he grunted. Lust brightly flickered in his eyes as he grabbed your waist, his thumbs squeezing the plush of your hips as he breathed heavily. You felt a spark of pleasure rush through your core as he lined the tip of his dick to your weeping entrance, your legs falling on either side of his hips as he squeezed your waist. Your breasts jiggled as you sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward.

"Make this pussy yours, Hobie," you moaned into his ear. Your jaw went slack when he quickly sheathed his length deep inside you, his cock pulsing as your pussy squeezed him in a tender, vice grip.

“Oh my God,” Hobie groaned as your juicy walls sucked him in, enveloping his long shaft in a warm, vice grip. The two of you remained still for a moment as you adjusted to his size. He furrowed his brows and breathed heavily before opening his eyes again. “Just let me know when you’re ready,” Hobie whispered, his lips dancing over yours as his cock twitched inside you. You took a deep breath and slid your ankles over the back of his thighs.

“Y-You can move,” you breathed as you gripped onto him. Hobie gave you a warm smile before he slowly pulled his hips back. A rush of pleasure ran down your spine as he stretched your hole wide open, his cock massaging your soft walls as his tip bumped into your cervix.

“God, you feel so good around me,” Hobie sucked in a sharp breath as he pumped his hips in a steady rhythm. You whined as he crashed his lips against yours, the heady taste of your arousal slipping against your tongue as he moaned into your mouth. Electricity danced across your skin as goosebumps rose over your body each time his hips came into contact with yours.

“H-Hobie,” you spoke up right as he pulled away from your sloppy kiss. He grunted in reply as he continued to thrust into your snug sex. You swallowed the lump growing in your throat as tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks. “It's okay - I don’t want you to hold back,” you reassured him while cupping his sharp cheek. His pace slowed as he furrowed his brows.

“You sure, lovie?” Hobie asked, his voice laced with concern. You nodded before gasping as he pushed your legs up, his hands squeezing the back of your knees before he snapped his hips forward.

“Fuck!” you cried out as his tip slammed against the plug to your womb. The bed shook beneath his rough, heavy thrusts while his plump balls slapped against your asscheeks.

"Yes, s-shit you feel so good," Hobie panted as he nearly folded you in half. "So fuckin' hot and tight," he groaned while pistoning his hips forward, his cock sinking deeper and deeper inside of your clenching hole. You cried and thrashed beneath him, your pleasure bordering on pain as your cunt tightened around his cock.

"Gonna be a good girl and cum f'me, yeah?" Hobie breathed as he squeezed the back of your legs. You nodded as you moaned and babbled incessantly.

"Yes, please, k-keep going!" you cried out as his thick tip massaged your soft, sensitive g-spot. Stars began to dance in your field of vision as the muscles in your lower tummy grew unbearably tight.

"Hobie!" you screamed as you snapped your hips forward, your cunt violently pulsing around his shaft as a pure bliss pierced through your core. White flooded your vision as your entire being trembled, your pussy soaking his throbbing dick with your sweet cum while he moaned into your ear.

"Shit, baby," he gritted his teeth as your walls clamped down on his length. You sobbed uncontrollably as your legs trembled in his hold, your mind numb with an indescribable pleasure. "Grippin' me so fuckin' tight, such a good - fuck - girl," Hobie rasped as his thrusts began to falter. You parted your lips and gasped as if breaking free from drowning. Your body glowed with euphoria as your lover's breath grew short with each pump of his cock.

"W-Where do you want me?" he shivered while gazing into your tear-filled eyes.

"Inside!" you squealed as his taut lower stomach brushed over your clit. Your jaw dropped when he buried himself deep inside your core, his moans reverberating inside your ears as his cock swelled and throbbed.

"G-Good girl," Hobie rumbled as he shallowly pumped his hips while shooting streams of his thick, heady seed against your swollen cervix. You dug your nails into his glowing skin as he nearly choked, your walls greedily sucking him in as he drenched your walls with his cum. You felt like your body was drifting in the heavenly waters of a warm ocean as he gently thrusted into you a few more times, your sex squelching wetly as his cock deliciously rubbed along your raw walls.

"Christ," Hobie panted as his hold on the back of your knees softened. You slowly blinked your eyes open, tears falling past the rim of your eyelids. Your love swallowed thickly before he kissed your calf, a patch of goosebumps breaking out over the small area as you gulped.

"Please tell me we're doing another round - I think I need a breather first," you sighed. Hobie chuckled as he slowly helped you lie your legs back onto the messy sheets.

"We could just stay here if you'd like," he said with a bright grin. You nodded and took a deep breath, your heart still pounding against your sternum and body shivering with bliss.

"Yes, please," you murmured. Hobie smiled softly as he slowly pulled out of you, his cock drenched with your combined juices and inner thighs caked with slick. You sighed as he shifted behind you, wrapping one of his lanky legs over yours and sliding an arm over your stomach.

"Do you think we could do this again sometime?" you asked. Hobie hummed against your neck, his puffy wicks tickling your ear as he tilted his head.

"Do what, lovie?" he murmured before kissing over the blanket of hickeys laid across your pulse. Your breath hitched for a moment as he pulled you against his warm body. You slid your hand down and threaded your fingers through his.

"I guess I meant to ask...are we an item now?" you said aloud. Hobie squeezed your hand as you glanced over your shoulder, his smile soft and melting you to the core.

"I mean, I figured that the second my lips hit yours was the moment that sealed it," he chuckled. You giggled and shifted a little more to softly peck his lips. Hobie sighed as you fully turned around, your front pressed against his as he brushed his long, nimble fingers through your hair. Your heart skipped a beat as you parted, your eyes dancing with a warm love you haven't felt in so long.

"I love you, Hobie Brown," you whispered softly while rubbing his upper back. Your boyfriend returned your gentle smile as he kissed your forehead.

"I love you, too, (Y/N) (L/N)," he grinned ear to ear.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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