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#something more than just 'buzzed to a one everywhere but the top'
cherubfae · 1 month
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holding hands || hazbin/helluva boss x reader
With Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Angel Dust, Vox, Blitz, Loona, and Striker
tags: fluff, shy!gn!reader and implied masc for Angel 💕 crushing/mutual pining, pre-established relationships, blitz's relationship/intimacy issues (but we gonna get that healthy growth we need), striker's is a bit suggestive!
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Alastor
You weren't sure the barrier of touching Alastor would ever be something that would be crossed and you told yourself that you didn't mind. You chose to revel in the moments of when he sought out affections and physical closeness be it dancing or if he suddenly tugs you in to tell you something. Alastor is not very privy to other people's space and Heaven forbid someone enter his without permission. Quite the contradiction.
Now, if he notices you're purposely not trying to give him any sort of touch or affection, he will get rather annoyed. You, darling, are the only one who he doesn't mind touching him. Has he expressed this? No. Will he? Maybe. Did he expect you to be able to read his mind? Quite possibly.
Alastor hoped to have made a smoother transition rather than just outright grasping your hand. Even he seemed surprised by his own action, static feedback chirping from him. His ears flick and the slightest sliver of a blush creeps from beneath his suit collar.
"I don't mind if it's you, dearest. I... I don't detest your touch as much as the others." Alastor clears his throat, his large hand briefly covers your smaller one. Giving your hand a little squeeze, he stands abruptly and disappears into shadow and darkness.
You'd never seen Alastor embarrassed before. How cute.
Lucifer
He's a pretty affectionate guy, especially once he's comfortable around you! His heart warms as you mindlessly play with your fingers, eyes looking everywhere but at him. The more you feel his stare, the more the blush darkens on your face.
"Take it easy there, sweetling," Lucifer's soft tone eases your senses. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead, he pulls back. He offers his hand, palm upwards, giving you time to back away. His gentle smile deepens when you slip your hand in his, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. Tugging you to his side gently, your shoulders brushing, you continue on the sidewalk towards Hell's finest local café.
Husk
While not one for PDA, Husk doesn't mind affection behind closed doors. Preferably out of sight of anyone who may mock and tease him for it.
He didn't however expect you to be sitting on his bed, thumbs lightly pressing into the center of his paw watching his claws go from being exposed and then retracting thanks to your gentle manipulations. He snorts lightly, as silly as you were, he couldn't be mad at your fascination.
"You're lucky you're cute, hun. If you were anyone else I may not be as nice as I am with ya." Husk smirks. Maintaining complete eye contact, you raise his paw to your lips and give it a soft kiss, grinning as Husk jolts with a huffy mrow. "Sneaky brat," he sighs, falling back on his bed with an arm over his eyes.
Angel Dust
You want to hold his hand? Which one, babe? He's got six! :) Angel is understanding of your shy nature, though he hopes you'll be able to be more bold with him in the future. He won't pressure you, of course, but he wants you to know that you can trust him. That he is capable of taking things slow.
"Is this okay?" Angel asks, softly grasping your hand in his gloved one. When you make no move to pull from his touch, a happy wobbly smile wiggles onto his face. He lightly leans his cheek against the top of your head, a brief sign of his affection. He can snuggle you more later, but for now, he wants to enjoy the day with his favorite person.♡
Vox
Intimacy of all sorts isn't foreign to him, but he's not used to someone so good, so pure. And he's certainly not used to that attention being directed at him. Any time you touch him, even if you only accidentally brushed past him, it leaves him buzzing. Craving for something more. He wants your sweet smile to be directed at him and him alone. It takes everything in Vox not to scream when you give his hand a small squeeze only to pull back, muttering apologies. Soon, he's reaching for you again, taking your hand in his.
"I didn't say that I hated it." Vox whispered in an uncharacteristically soft way. His eyes flicker up to your face, then back to see where his hand has dwarfed yours. With his free hand falling to your hip, lightly stroking circles there, he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your other arm slides to rest on his shoulder as his clawed hand curls around the back of your knee. Intimate but not forceful. There's no aggression in his movements. Including your head towards him, even sitting down he's much taller than you. Vox's eyes hold a silent question, one that you answer with that smile he loves so much and a nod, and his lips press to yours with your hands still joined.
Blitzø
Romantic gestures are a big deal for him. Big in the way that he struggles with them, but that he doesn't want it to be something that holds him back. Familial and platonic he understands, but Blitz is pretty damned confused with the fact that you want to even be near someone like him. He doesn't want to inadvertently hurt you by acting how he does. He doesn't wanna fuck up, but goddammit, he really does want to be near you. He wants to be able to give you everything you could need and more, he just doesn't know how. How to unfuck himself.
"Sl-slow," Blitz's voice betrays him with a crack and he swallows thickly, taking your hand in his. Ever grateful that you're the ones in I.M.P right now. This is different. Intimate. He's shaky, palms sweaty. His brain feels foggy and it's suddenly hotter than normal. He feels dizzy and like the floor may break beneath his feet and swallow him whole. The second you start to withdraw, he's tugging you back to him with a soft, raspy, "No."
Facing him now, your other hand slides up to his. Both your palms are pressed together. Blitz keeps his gaze on the floor, unable to help how fidgety he feels, even as he laces your fingers together, and leans his head onto your shoulder. He's not gonna let you pull away. Not yet. Please...
Loona
Lighting up a cigarette, Loona leans her back against a wall of some dingy alleyway in the human world. You had chosen to wait with her, both dressed in your human disguises, hoping that any second Blitz and M&M would return with the mission completed. Your sole purpose tonight had been to guard Stolas's grimoire and open the portal when everyone was ready to return home.
Blowing her smoke towards the sky, Loona hummed softly. "At least it's a nice night, huh?" She smiles lightly, grateful her tail was hidden in this form when you leaned against the wall beside her. You looked great; you always did.
A vast blue sky with billions of twinkling stars smiled down on you two. It was a nice change of pace from the hellish red glow of your home. This particular area of Earth was quiet. Peaceful, even. Nodding your head you smile at her, Loona swallows.
Her pinky finger lightly brushed your own, a gentle startled gasp leaving you. But you smile, albeit shyly, your hand taking hers. Not many words were exchanged, none needed to be. Just Loona smoking her cigarette and looking up at the stars.
Striker
Ain't you just the cutest little thing? You think he doesn't notice how worked up and shy you get when he's just finished wrangling in some dinner, with his bare, sweaty muscles on display. It's a direct, unvoiced invite for only you and yet you haven't taken him up on anything yet. Why?
"You scared of me, sugar?" Striker drawls, flicking his cigar butt into the dirt and crushing it with the heel of his boot. You look up at him with those big, beautiful doe eyes and adamantly shake your head that you weren't. "Then what is it, darlin'? Spit it out." He smirks, gold tooth glinting.
|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024
Cheeks heating, you gnaw on your lower lip. "I'd like to hold your hand." Striker blinks, clearly taken aback. That's it? You're getting so worked up like a nervous virgin begging for a thick cock because you want to... Hold his hand? He stops himself from laughing, he can tell that it's really bothering you. Heaving a sigh, Striker plops down beside you. Pulling you into his lap, his arms slide around your waist and he offers both his hands to you. He hides his reddening face at your back, the sound of his blood rushes in his ears, unable to focus on anything but how soft your hands are. And how well they fit into his. "Jus' do it then, they're yours to touch, ain't they?"
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ferrstappen · 4 months
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could you be more obvious? l MV1
a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood
summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.
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Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.
But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.
what, like it’s a big deal?
They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.
That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.
And God, did you celebrate him.
Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.
Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.
and you knew it was time to go.
Bahrain, 2024
Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.
You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.
The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones
“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.
The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…
“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.
You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”
Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.
“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.
“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.
“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.
“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.
“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.
“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”
And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.
user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind
user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that
user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend
user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀
user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc
user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN
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astroboots · 10 months
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Rainy Night Patrol
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CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS
Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.
Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.
A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.
Word Count: 4,800
Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist
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Rainy nights in New York are the fucking worst.
It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.
It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.
Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.
The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.
So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.
Christ, he hates this city.
By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.
You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.
It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.
Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.
He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.
No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.
With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.
Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.
Shit.
His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.
Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?
The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted. 
Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.
He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.
New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe.  And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.
His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.
A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.
Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.
Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.
Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock.  He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.
You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.
Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.
Oh fuck it!
Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.
You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.
He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.
His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.
He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.
And fuuuuuck.
He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.
God you feel so fucking good.
Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.
Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him.  All of it telling him the same thing.
He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.
You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.
He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.
Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.
Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.
He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.
Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.
He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.
Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.
"Miguel."
Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.
"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"
"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.
He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"
"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."
"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.
"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."
It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.
He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.
"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."
He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.
"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."
The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.
"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"
You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.
"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."
You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.
He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.
No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.
You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.
"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.
Pleasure that only he can give you.
"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.
"I'm right here."
You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.
"Fucking you."
It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.
"Making you come," he bites out.
You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.
"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.
Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.
Fuck, you're coming.
"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…
"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."
Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.
If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.
And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.
It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.
This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.
And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.
But that’s not happening tonight.
Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones. 
He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.
Miguel is out of patience. 
Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.
Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.
Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.
You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.
Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.
His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.
"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"
"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.
The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again. 
He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.
"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.
Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger.  He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.
"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"
Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.
It's why he needs to protect you. 
Always. 
Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–
You make a negative sound, shaking your head.
  "No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."
He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.
Your. Fucking. Panties!?
Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?
"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.
"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.
With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.
"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"
"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.
The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.
Fuck, he has to move. He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming. 
Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.
Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.
More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.
He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.
"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you." 
He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you. 
He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours. 
You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.
This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.
It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.
No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.
The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body. 
You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.
"You're getting me new panties."
A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.
"Sure, nena."
"And coffee in the morning," you add.
He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.
"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.
Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.
Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?
He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.
You nod into your pillow.
"Mmhmm."
He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.
The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep. 
The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him. 
He’ll keep you safe. 
Always.
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Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!
I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!
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sunflowersteves · 1 year
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another day, another dollar || b.b.
pairing || bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader
summary || Is Rooster jealous that some random aviator won't stop looking at you? Definitely not.
author’s note || i'm so glad you guys enjoyed my last rooster fic!! i have so many ideas for rooster and i hope you guys enjoy this one! <3
warnings || jealousy, misogyny (not from rooster), fem!reader, some mention of violence, smut, oral sex, blowjob, praise kink, a little sub!bradley, [18+ only]
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“Getting pretty busy, huh?” 
You turned your head around to the unfamiliar voice. You almost raised an eyebrow—he looked smug. “Yep.” You replied, short and sweet. 
You gave him a strained smile in hopes to keep up some customer service facade. You whirled back around to continue to pull the tap and fill up more beers.
He decided to talk to you again. “Think you can handle all this by yourself?”
At the Hard Deck on a buzzing Friday night, you were the only one tending to the bar. Ever since dusk peaked at seven-thirty in the evening, you had been busy refilling beers and taking orders—then occasionally ringing the bell when someone couldn’t pay their tab. 
Penny asked you for a favor when Amelia came home from school with a really bad case of the flu. You knew she felt bad enough leaving you alone on the busiest night of the weekend, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. You had wished Amelia a speedy recovery. 
You were doing pretty well from the rush of Navy officers, lieutenants, captains, and everywhere in between asking for ales and lagers.
It had actually been somewhat fun chatting up conversations with people. Out of nowhere, though, this lanky twenty-something man stationed himself right in the front of the bar.
He had been staring at you for more than five minutes, and when you paid him no mind—since you were quite frankly busy with customers—he decided to strike up a mundane conversation. It was almost nauseating. 
When you had turned your head the first time, he had his elbow resting on the bar and twirled a pint of beer in his hand. He had a fresh face and flirty twinkling eyes that almost made you gag a little. You knew exactly what he was doing, and you weren’t interested. 
You could tell he was a Naval Aviator with the whole khaki color suit and hat on his head. You could also tell that by the looks of it that he’s new.
You didn’t spin back around, though, when he asked you that question. You didn’t want to give him any attention—hopefully, he will get the goddamn hint. 
“Think you can handle all this by yourself?” Gross. 
“I’ve been doing this for a while. I think I can handle it just fine.” You then turn to Coyote with the four beers he asked for—a genuine smile on your face. He thanked you kindly before sauntering back off to your group of friends by the pool table. 
“Really? I’ve never seen you in here before.” He locked eyes with yours before trailing down your figure and admiring the curves of your hips in tight jeans—a shudder of disgust ran through your body. “I would’ve remembered someone like you.”
Yeah, he was definitely new because if he saw the six-foot-four Top Gun aviator—the top one percent of fighter pilots in the world—that was glaring daggers into him, he would have shit his pants on the spot. You were sure he would never set foot in the Hard Deck again. 
You were Bradley’s, and Bradley was yours. Everyone in the vicinity of the bar knew that. You were always perched on his lap while he spread his skilled fingers across the piano. His arms were always wrapped around your waist as you destroyed Hangman in darts. You two practically couldn’t get your hands off of each other every second of the day. 
No one in their right mind would disturb the pure, raw love between the two of you.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, you were forced under the confinements of the bar area, giving this newbie the perfect opportunity to try and stake his claim.
“Maybe you’re the forgetful one, kid. I’m here every weekend.” You fought the urge to smile in victory when he gave an annoyed expression as the word kid left your mouth.
═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═
“You gonna do something, Rooster?”
His eyes never left your cute irritated face. He watched you give the guy a one-worded answer with a mundane expression. As much as he wanted to give you the kiss of a lifetime, he stood back. “No.”
With Bradley’s answer, Jake was even more amused. “No? I’m surprised. I’d figure by now you’d be trailing over to her like some lost little puppy.”
Bradley bit his cheek to keep from snapping back. He knew that Jake was just giving him shit. He knew that he was just trying to get him all riled up.
It’s what Jake does. But he couldn’t let anything get to him, or he would trail over to you like some lost puppy. Hangman was undoubtedly and stupidly right. 
Jake’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the brooding silence. He expected some little quip and then a smack upside the head from Phoenix right next to him.
Damn, this must be really grinding Bradley’s gears. Jake almost felt guilty for his friend sulking in the corner of the Hard Deck.
“Don’t let Bagman get to you, Rooster. He’s just jealous that your girlfriend rejected him first.”
Phoenix grinned with a teasing smile, and Jake just grumbled to himself. At that, Bradley snorted and shook his head. He was still silent, but his demeanor had at least changed. All of the pilots smiled at Rooster’s shoulders relaxing just a smidge. 
Bradley hated feeling jealous—the angry green monster that sprouted in his chest and sat home in his head was relentless in its hold on him.
His heart always throbbed in his chest, and anger bubbled through his veins when some guy or girl gave you a bashing smile and feather-light touches to your shoulder.
He always stayed silent—brooding—as he watched you from afar. He never wanted you to feel like he didn’t trust you because he did. Oh, he did. He trusts you more than anyone else in the room, and he flies life or death with some of them. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if you had asked him to.
He figured it is most likely some unresolved tension from the tragedies that have struck during his thirty-five years of life, and anyone that wanted to take you away from him burned a hole in his chest.
So, to combat these ingrained feelings, he sat idly by as that guy’s hips were attached to the bar and watched you dodge every single flirtatious glance and awkward pick-up line. He knew you could handle yourself, and there was a whole gaggle of naval aviators that would stop at nothing to make sure you were doing okay. 
“Need another beer?” A peace offering. Jake was already standing up from the bar stool and about to make his way over to you.
He nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Bagman.”
═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═
You looked bored. You looked so absolutely uninterested in this guy still speaking to you, and now, he was over-explaining how F-18 engines work and fly. You were a mechanical engineer. You knew how plane engines work. 
You tried to tell him you did, but he was quick to interrupt to continue telling you about how F-18s have more than one-hundred thousand horsepower.
If you didn’t respect Penny’s establishment and reputation, he would’ve been thrown out of the bar by now. Typical men with their typical egos. Though now that you think about it, you’re sure Penny would have encouraged it. 
Your eyes locked with Jake’s, and your eyes lit up at the familiar face. Finally, someone you actually enjoy talking to. Not that you would ever tell Jake that. 
“Need savin’ over here, hot shot?” Jake had interrupted the aviator and ignored the very irritated look that was sent his way. It was almost like the guy was insinuating that he had caught you—that you were going to be his tonight. The feeling of possession he exuded made you want to gag again. 
Jake could tell you wanted this shift to be over as soon as possible. Your eyes glanced at the random man staring at you before turning your attention back onto Hangman. “Nothing I can’t handle. How many beers?” 
“Two, please.” Jake smiled—cocky little shit. “I think you should go talk to your boyfriend over there. He’s been stewin’ for quite a while.” He paused, eyes sliding over to the stranger. “I could even help ya with the bar.”
You turn around to fill up the empty glasses that he handed to you. “Don’t I know it, Bagman.” It was like the aviator that had been hitting on you all night had disappeared—though, you wish. Just you making drinks while your friends entertained you. It was nice for a moment, actually. “I’m due for a break soon enough.” 
Jake spoke too soon, though, because Bradley was already making his way over to the bar. He couldn’t help himself when he saw the guy stare straight at your ass and bite his lip. The action made his blood seethe with vexation, so his feet started walking before his brain caught up.
“Boyfriend?” The guy looks shocked. His eyes were wide as he stared at you. “What the fuck? I’ve been trying all night, and you didn’t say a fucking thing?”
You pursed your lips. Irritated. “I did.”
“Huh?”
Rooster stood tall near the bar, watching the scene before him. He studied the menacing glare you struck at the guy and a hand resting on your hip.
“I told you multiple times when you were talking about damn plane engines that I have a boyfriend—who’s a naval aviator by the way. I’ve made it crystal clear.”
He didn’t miss a beat. The stranger’s eyebrows were furrowed in rage. He stood up from the bar in an irate stance. “You’re a fucking bitch. Do you go around eye-fucking all the guy's then?” His eyes move over to Jake’s.
“You allow your slut to do this, man?”
You, Jake, and Bradley all froze. The whole bar dulls out into silence from his loud gestures, and all eyes are on you four now. 
The audacity of this kid to insult and degrade you when all you were doing was listening to this guy talk and talk. You gave clear signs of being uninterested. Clear. Not to mention he also had the sheer audacity to make a scene in Jake and Bradley’s presence.
“The fuck did you just say?” You were almost in his face as you leaned over the bar—a hard glare set on him with your fueled anger. The grip you had on the bar counter was starting to ache, but you didn’t care. 
“Tame your fucking girl, would you?” Jake’s hands clenched by his side at the comment.
Bradley’s chest heaved up and down, and he could feel the burning emotion consume his entire body and soul. His hands were almost trembling by his side as his thoughts of tearing this asshole to shreds simmered inside his head. 
The guy scoffed. He tried to turn around to leave but was met with Bradley’s hard chest. Clearly, he had no idea what was coming.
Bradley was sweet—a kind, gentle soul. He has picked you up from your lowest and drew you back up. He has told you things about himself that not even he understands. Bradley Bradshaw was a good man—one of the best, you would even argue. 
However, he had a temper. Call it the jet fuel that was practically injected into his veins, but when that temper was pushed to the brim because someone fucked with you? Yeah, they should hope to be six feet under before Bradley could get to them. 
Bradley towered over him, almost making the guy tower down. He was seeing red—fully unsaturated rage at the disrespect toward you. The guy tried to regain some confidence, oddly enough. “Move out of my way.”
Bradley didn’t move—he didn’t even blink. His jaw clenched and unclenched. His eyes bore into the stranger to assess him. His hand twitched at his side as if it was gearing up to make a move. 
“Apologize. Now.” His voice was deep—it was gruff and hollow that immediately went straight to your chest. He didn’t look like the Bradley you knew, the Bradley that would carry you for three miles from a sprained ankle.
This Bradley looked menacing. This Bradley looked deadly. And you weren’t going to lie, it was hot as fuck. 
“Who the fuck are you?”
Bradley’s eyes flashed with something you were unfamiliar with. He has been jealous before, yes, but it has mostly been the reassuring kind. This was pure seething rage. His eyes were almost red from the amount of anger that pulsated through his body. 
“Apologize.” Bradley breathes out, but his eyes are digging into the man in front of him. “Or I will rip your fucking kneecaps off.”
Jake stood tall—back stretched out as he watched the interaction. He would spot for Bradley any day, especially to assholes like this random guy. He wanted to be ready for anything that could come Bradley’s way. 
The guy opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut as Bradley took a step closer if it was even possible. He almost dared him too—almost wanted him to so Bradley could get in some punches that this guy deserved. 
“I-I-I’m sorry.” The guy tried to take a step back but was met with the bar counter. “I didn’t mean—”
“Not me.” Rooster pointed directly at you. “Her.”
He spins around faster toward you than you had seen a person spin in your life. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He looks up to your boyfriend for approval, but Bradley’s eyes locked with yours. You nodded as a signal to your boyfriend that you were okay—things were okay. All you wanted was for this guy to leave and Bradley to be by your side again. It’s all you could think about.
Bradley’s eyes retreated back to the stranger, and you could have sworn that the guy almost flinched. “If I ever see you in here again, I will not hesitate. Do you understand?��
The aviator nods vigorously and tries to ignore the deadly glare from Bradley. His hands picked at his sides in nervousness. “Do you understand?” Bradley repeats.
The aviator’s eyes widened. “Y-Yes. I understand.” 
Bradley’s posture somewhat succeeds back into a relaxed form, his eyes already returning back to you in comfort and warmth. Every tipsy person located in the bar had shouted in celebration for kicking out the guy that ruined all the fun. Coyote and Fanboy unkindly escorted him out of the bar and threw him out onto the sandy beach. “Don’t fucking come here again.”
In the bar, everything and everyone had gone back to normal. People started laughing and smiling once more—shoveling more drinks into their mouths. Some even started racking the balls on the pool table and throwing darts.
For you, though, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bradley. 
He was on you in less than a second, taking two full strides around the bar in desperation. His hands gripped your hips harshly and his lips collided against your own. Your back bumps into the bar, which causes the bottles of booze to rattle against the glass. 
His tongue is shoved into your mouth, and he groans deeply at the taste of beer. His nose harshly bumps against your cheek—messy and harsh with every swallow and molding of your mouth.
You almost whined into him. “Bradley.” Your breath fanned up against his cheeks, and his knees felt so fucking weak for you.
His body starts to sloppily drag you away from the bar and into the back corner of the Hard Deck. His lips never once left yours in a fury to feel you—to be inside of you at any and all cost. His hands make their way down the back of your thighs, and you instinctively jump. Your legs wrap around his torso as he continues to walk backward.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Go fuck like bunnies. I’ll man the bar, I guess.” But there was a hint of a small smile on his face. Finally, you two could cut the shit and fawn over each other once again. 
═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═
Bradley pulls you into the supply closet near the break room at the back of the bar. His back hits one of the shelves, and you could hear the sound of cleaning bottles falling onto the floor. 
Neither of you could stop your fluttering hands that followed each other’s curves. Bradley’s lips trailed down your jaw and neck, which left you breathless and aching for more. Your body feels hot—and elated—from his calloused fingers digging into the flesh on your stomach.
“Bradley, please.” He thinks he knows what you are begging for. He wants to taste you on his tongue. He wants you creaming into his mouth until you’re so dumb that you don’t even remember your own name. 
To his chagrin, though, you stop the trailing hand that is trying to make its way between your thighs. “I wanna taste you, Bradley. I wanna swallow your cum.”
His eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell—” Bradley breathes out, fast and light. He watches you sink down onto your knees and clumsily drag his shorts to pool around his ankles.
You weren’t very graceful from your pure desperation to have his cock in your mouth. Bradley didn’t mind, though. 
His cock jumped from the sight and thought of you in such a state of yearning. “Pretty baby.” He whispered, but it sounded more like a whine. 
Your lips trailed kisses around his thighs. “Do you know how hot it was to see you almost lose your shit on that guy?” Your words slurred together from the intoxication of his broad muscles and lips that were sucked in between his teeth.
You pull down his boxers and almost drool from his ruddy tip dripping in pre-cum. You lightly graze your fingers across his shaft and your mouth waters from his shaft twitching. Your eyes flickered up to see his reaction, his hooded eyes watching you pump his cock.
“You had been watchin’ me all night, Roo. I could feel it.”
He licked his lips. “He-He—” He moans your name. “F-Fuck. He-He can’t take you. I–” God, you’re so hot from your lust-filled eyes racking over his hopelessly hard cock. He withers in your grasp, and he couldn't help but say your name over again. 
“Oh, Roo, no. He can’t take me, hmm?” You hum out the last part of the sentence so your mouth can gravitate to the bulging vein on the side of his cock. “I’m fucking yours, Roo. I’m yours.”
You swirl your tongue and suck your lips around his tip. His hands latch themselves into your hair, and he tugs and tugs. How is he already so close to the edge?
You’re barely touching him, but he feels like he’s on cloud nine, and the knot in his stomach twists and pulls.
“F-Fuck, pretty baby, yeah. You’re mine. You’re mine.” He repeats the saying as his hips involuntarily hump your mouth. You gag around him and his cock shoves further deep into your throat.
You want to guide him to a sweet release for being such a good partner to you. He is yours. He is your Bradley. 
“Oh, fuck–fuck baby, please. My fuckin’ girl—yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He lowly groans out—deep, guttural, and sultry—while his cum paints the inside of your mouth. Thick ropes shoot into your mouth, and the salty taste made you salivate even more. Your eyes watch his hung-open jaw and his eyes trailing down to watch you suck around his cock. 
You swallow all that he has to offer, and you moan out his name while still stuffed with his cock. His eyes widened slightly at the action, and his heart swirled in his chest. How did he get so lucky with you?
You go to stand up and pull his pants back up, but he catches your hands.
“Oh, pretty baby, you aren’t leaving me so soon, are you?” His palm rests below the back of your neck and pulls you into him. His breath fans up against your cheeks, and he presses sweet kisses on your jaw, working his way up to your temple. 
“Roo, if you don’t fuck me right this minute—”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, pretty baby, we’re jus’ getting started.”
4K notes · View notes
kissatoru · 7 months
Text
★ ₊˚ WEAK FOR YOU
content. college au, dom/sub dynamics, bratty sub!eren, mean to soft dom!reader, gn!reader, dry humping, humiliation, nipple play, degradation, praise, edging, handjob, blowjob
wc. ~6.8k
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house parties aren’t really your thing. you’ve been to a few but you quickly discovered that they involve a lot more vomit and interpersonal drama than you have the tolerance for, so you tend to avoid them. you would’ve turned down the invitation for this one too, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was eren jaeger who offered it up to you. that’s why you’re here, at the house of someone who’s a friend of a friend’s friend, at sometime past midnight. you’re leaning against the wall, sipping on a half-empty can of pop.
you finally spot eren, making his way over to you with a grin much too wide for someone who’s late to a party he invited you to. he looks good, dressed in a white tank top that brings out the musculature of his arms and black skinny jeans you’ve only ever seen him wear to parties like this one, since he usually wears sweatpants everywhere else. his hair is half-down and half-up in a bun, not too different from the usual messy man bun he goes for.
once he arrives at your side, beer can in hand, you exchange greetings and small talk, talking about nothing and everything. in the middle of a conversation, some drunk rando throws up by your feet, so you and eren migrate to a different room. on the way though, another person bumps into you and spills their drink down your shirt. it doesn’t help that you were already damp with sweat from how hot and stuffy it is, as well as nauseous from the lingering stench of vomit mixed with alcohol and BO. you meet their eyes with hellfire on your tongue and in any other situation, you would’ve let it loose, but the way they paw at your clothes and slur their apology reminds you that you’re in a house full of clumsy idiots just like them, so you just shrug it off and focus on finding a bathroom to clean up in.
that’s what eren likes about you. you’re down-to-earth and keep to yourself, but don’t let people walk over you and speak out when you need to; you’re not exactly timid, but you’re soft-spoken in a way that suits your voice and nice to people without being overly nice. oh and don’t get him started on your witty humour and the way you play off other people’s jokes so effortlessly; even when you shake your head or roll your eyes or just ignore him after he tells a joke that doesn’t land, he’s buzzing. that’s why he’s been ogling you during your shared lectures, the reason he keeps ‘losing’ his pens and asking to borrow from you, the reason he keeps ‘forgetting’ to give them back, the reason he asked you out to this party! something about you just got eren hooked, to the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about you, to the point he would wake up with a boner almost every morning and jerk off from what he remembered of his dreams about you; to the point those dreams turned into fantasies, imagining what your body looks like under your clothes, what your moans sound like, what faces you’d make.
you, on the other hand, didn’t have any strong feelings toward eren until later. you thought of him as kind of average, if not a little loud and annoying at times, such as when he disrupted class, but in a word, tolerable, and definitely not the worst classmate you’ve ever had. usually, you’d never give a guy like him the time of day unless he actually tried to pursue you (instead of just flirting and joking around aimlessly) but your interest was piqued after your friends passed on to you some rumours about him being a self-proclaimed ‘hardcore dom’. from that point on, you were just as hooked. you became less dismissive and a little more friendly, playing along with his game — long enough so that he’d never see it coming once you finally sunk your claws into him.
that’s why, when you finally find the bathroom, you stop in the doorway, turn to eren in your stained shirt and say, “do you mind helping me clean up?”
the excitement in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he answers a nonchalant, “yeah, sure,” and follows you inside. the soft click of the lock has eren’s pulse jumping because he knows exactly where this is going. he knew you had to feel something back, that you couldn’t resist his advances forever. his eyes scan you shamelessly while you pull your top over your head and start wiping your chest down with a towel. he leans against the door and comments, “hey now, you might give a guy the wrong idea taking off your clothes like that,” and that’s what sets everything else into motion.
“yeah?” you say as you step closer. your voice is hushed, lowered, as if to whisper a dirty secret. “how do you know it’s the wrong idea?”
eren falters at your forwardness, but runs a palm over his hair and regains his composure. “i guess i don’t,” he says, not even trying to hide the way he’s staring at your lips. “so, is it?” his dark gaze flicks back up to your eyes. “the wrong idea?”
you smile and make sure to bat your eyelashes extra prettily as you whisper, “why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
his lips are on you as soon as you finish the question and his hands grasp at you while he backs you up against the door. he kisses you feverishly and as impatiently as you’ve been feeling this entire night. you let him kiss along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone, but before he can get too carried away, you guide him back to your lips. this time, you take over leadership in the kiss. eren smirks, mistaking it for eagerness, until a skilled tongue slides into his mouth and your hands begin to touch him with confidence and ease. his breath hitches once, twice, and it only spirals from there. he’s gasping and panting in seconds, overwhelmed and barely managing to keep up. slowly but surely, you’re pushing back, and he can feel himself giving in, involuntarily yielding to you like it’s a biological instinct. he doesn’t even realise how bad it is until it’s too late, until his back is pressed against the door and his centre of gravity becomes you, staring at him with a look he’s never seen on your face before.
“you’re real pretty, you know that, right?” you tell him as you tuck some of the loose hair from his bun behind his ear. eren opens his mouth, presumably to bark out a retort at your (what he believes to be) demeaning choice of words, but all that comes out is a quiet moan as your knee rides up between his legs. you take advantage of that and slip your thumb inside, pressing down on his tongue and opening his mouth wider. “so pretty,” you add in a croon, but then he brings his teeth down and bites your thumb. you don’t give him the satisfaction of a pained reaction, settling for a disappointed glare and a tight grip of his jaw. “don’t be a brat now, jaeger. you don’t wanna know what i do to brats.” interestingly, the lump against your knee twitches. you arch an eyebrow. “oh? or maybe you do?”
his eyes are on yours, seemingly stern and rebellious but you know it’s just a ruse; you know begging for mercy when you see it. such eyes suit him, you’ll give him that, but you’d have to be a fool not to take this opportunity, to give him that final nudge, those final few centimetres he needs to be all yours. so you whisper into his ear, the kinds of things he’s used to saying and worse, until he’s flushed and speechless, stuttering over his breaths and holding back whines. it’s almost too easy when you lean down to his neck, and he just lifts his chin and gives it to you, without you even having to ask. you reward him with red kisses and purple lovebites that have the skin beneath your lips thrumming with suppressed moans. it’s such a treat too, how affected he is when you’ve barely even started.
some part of eren is still screaming at him to steal back his dignity and the role he’s made a reputation out of, but his pants are damp and so tight it hurts, it’s really not his fault when he starts grinding against your knee in search of relief. you find it adorable, really, and smirk against his neck as you press your knee forward in an act of pity. a whimper slips from him and he ruts against you faster, more desperately, so desperately. he almost sobs because he was sure your actions would be as cruel as your words, but he’s too caught up in chasing his high to feel relieved or thankful. he focuses only on moving his hips, back and forth, back and forth, and holy shit, is he really about to cum already? in his pants, like some teenager?
he stops his movements, shaking with the effort of keeping still. with clammy hands, he hurries to undo his jeans, but you snatch them away and pin them to the wall. your curled lips indicate that you understand the situation just fine without an explanation, yet you still have the audacity to say, “what’s the matter? don’t you wanna cum?” your tone all flowery and pure as you pick up where he left off, mercilessly rubbing his cock through the fabric.
“no, no, no, fuck,” eren chokes out, even as he betrays himself by meeting your knee halfway, but he just can’t stop! his peak is drawing closer and closer and his downward motions just get harder and faster. it feels so good and he’s so, so close–
“don’t cum yet.”
eren’s first thought is: how the fuck is he supposed to do that? but then his second thought is: why would he listen to you anyway? what authority do you have over him? and yet what comes out of his mouth is, “please–”
“begging so soon?” you say against his lips. “that’s sweet, it really is.” you let go of his wrists and trail your hands down his arms to his chest, then over a nipple experimentally, grinning when you feel it pebble under your light touch. you give it some more attention, circling and rubbing it through the fabric until eren’s hands are clutching your shoulders and he’s curling in on himself trying to escape the foreign sensation. he never thought that part of his body could feel... good?
you suddenly pinch and twist it and eren whines. the pain is sharp, and yet that’s what has his orgasm returning. with only a few more grinds against your knee, it’s hitting him fast, from all angles, and the thing he’s been dreading finally comes true. he soaks his underwear with cum, hot and sticky and disgusting. he moans weakly, digging his blunt fingernails into your shoulders as his head raises up against the door.
you sigh, disappointed. “i didn’t say you could cum.”
eren is standing there, trying to catch his breath and too out of it to respond to you, when you suddenly grab him through his pants. his back arches at the overstimulation and you’re smiling because of course you are as your hand massages over his bulge and the horrid squelching sounds remind him of his shame. he tries to get away from the stimulation, gasping out, “stop, stop, stop!” but when you don’t hear that lovely ‘please’ you only quicken your ministrations.
“you’re such a pervert, eren,” you taunt, soft and sultry, as if you weren’t humiliating him with your words. “cumming in your pants from having your nipples played with? and it’s only been like, what, a minute?”
his cheeks turn pink, his eyebrows knit together, and all he can say is a shaky, “shut up.”
you snicker. “aw, don’t be embarrassed. it’s cute! you’re just like a virgin.”
“i’m not a virgin,” he croaks out, and it’s true, but you pretend to be unconvinced so you can watch him rush to make you believe him while his face blooms a darker shade of pink and his cock hardens at your touch — or maybe your words? either way, you continue palming him until his defiant expression fades, until it’s replaced by parted lips and hooded eyes.
then you pull away, just as he’s starting to buck into your palm. you relish the way he looks at you, so questioning and betrayed. you wish you could see what other faces you can get him to make, but now that you’ve given him a taste, you intend to take it all away. it’s the funnest part of this all; leaving him wanting after planting the seed of what could be into his mind, letting him continue with his life of hook-ups and one-night-stands before he inevitably comes running back to you. it would be so easy now to lose your patience and ravage him like a starved man, sure, but that takes away the fun in taking him apart piece by piece. you’ve come all this way; it would be a shame not to savour it.
“why did you stop?”
there it is, you think, and you can’t help smiling. “you told me to,” you answer as you take a step back. eren stands there, the start of a protest falling from his lips. you don’t wait for him to finish, instead reaching for your shirt and putting it back on.
“hey,” eren scoffs and grabs your arm. “you can’t just leave.” his tone is light-hearted, but you can tell he’s being serious, and that it’s more like a plea rather than the statement it’s phrased as.
“oh, can’t i?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “why not?”
eren looks at you, then his crotch. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this lost for words.
you just laugh through your nose, like he’s told a bad joke. “this is your punishment, eren. you should remember it next time you think about disobeying me.” you wave your hand for him to move, but he lingers, so you give him a pointed look, a silent demand. he steps out of the way and you open the door. “see you in class on monday,” you say over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you.
standing there with his heart still pounding with adrenaline, eren realises that he was right before; your actions are as cruel as your words, crueller even, he just guessed too soon. he should be livid — you’ve left him covered in hickeys, with an aching boner and cum that’s still warm in his pants — but all he can think about is two words: next time. even after days have passed, he doesn’t stop thinking about them. he clings to them like a lifeline, every day and every class with you after that; turning those words over, listening to the echo of your voice in his mind, the way your lips moved around those two bittersweet syllables. he thinks about them for an entire three weeks before they finally come into existence thanks to a class assignment that gets the two of you paired up.
you avoid inviting him over too soon, purposely offering to meet up at cafés and the campus library. at first, they were nothing more than that: just doing actual work for the assignment. but soon enough, you start to tease and distract him; a foot skimming his inner calf one too many times to be an accident, a hand on his thigh that rubs up and down but never more. it’s torture, yet eren feels giddy at the prospect of it leading up to something more, every single time, wondering if this will be the time you go further.
there’s one time he’s sure you will. it starts out innocent, you asking him to get a book that’s too high up for you. as he reaches for it, his shirt lifts up, revealing a strip of his v-line and the waistband of his boxers, how the edge of skin above it is slightly paler, where his tan didn’t reach...
it’s gone as soon as it appears and usually your thoughts would vanish with it — except the aisle happens to be dowsed in shadows from a broken light and the closest person around is on the other side of the library. so instead of your urges slipping away, it’s your self-restraint, and rather than taking the book, you take his wrist. then you pin him to wall and use your other hand to push his lips into yours, all in one fell swoop. the intensity with which you kiss him and the way you have him pressed against the wall brings him back to that night. he kisses back just as passionately, all slippery saliva and clashing teeth. he’s sweating already, hot with the thrill of what else you’re willing to do, how far you’re willing to go in a public place like this. would you touch him? make him cum in his pants? leave him hard?
a hand clutching onto your shirt brings you back to your senses. you pull away and eren tries to chase your lips, but you catch his jaw before he can. he’s still panting from the residual excitement of earlier. his eyes stare at you, puppy-like in the way they speak a silent plea and twinkle with the reflection of the library ceiling lights behind you. you just smile and pet his spit-slick lips with a thumb, the gentle touch distracting him long enough for you to grab the book he’s still holding and step back. “thanks,” you say, gesturing to the book before walking away.
just seconds ago, eren’s mind was racing with thoughts, but as he stares at your retreating back, his only thought is that you really are cruel — and yet it is that thought, and that moment, that replay in his head that very night as he’s roughly pumping his cock and cumming in his underwear, if only to pretend you forced him to, just like back then. he’s pathetic, he knows that, but at the same time, it’s all he can do. he just feels so... he doesn’t even know what to call it, but it has him drooling after everything you do. he’s never felt this way about anyone. he’s only ever slept around with people, too afraid of committment for even friends with benefits or a situationship. he’s not even all that great with friendships, with only two friends he’s been lucky enough to have by his side since childhood, and a few guys he talks to and has lunch with at uni, but never actually hangs out with outside of class. but you? you have something that makes him want to stay, to keep going after you; you’re the reason he hasn’t slept with anyone since the party. he’s tried to, but it’s just not the same. he feels like you’ve ruined him for everyone else. that’s why he has no other choice but to fuck his fist after every meet-up with you, imagining it as your fist while the words you left him with loop in his head.
it isn’t until over halfway through the project that eren’s pining finally reaches its peak with a single message:
let’s work at my place today, usual time
the way it’s not a question does something to him, which is when he realises how pent-up he is. he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but by the time he reaches your dorm, he’s already half-hard. he wipes his sweaty hands off on his tee and adjusts himself in his sweatpants before knocking on your door. when you open it, you’re in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, legs bare and feet clad in slippers.
“you’re early,” you say as eren strolls inside.
he scoffs. “not on purpose,” he says, hoping you don’t see through his façade (you do). he slides his hands into his pockets and takes a look around your room. various shelves and decoration on your walls, reflecting your interests; memorabilia and clutter on different surfaces and furniture. some clothes thrown over your desk chair, a few plants and books. there’s a scent in the air too, not too strong but prominent and uniquely you.
“when you’re done snooping around my room like a creep,” you call out from your bed, “we should get on with the assignment.” your fingers clack away on your laptop keyboard for a bit before looking at eren. “i know the deadline’s next friday but i’d rather get it done as soon as, y’know?”
eren’s stomach drops. he completely forgot the real reason he was invited here; the innocent reason he was invited here. your tone was casual, gave no indication that you knew, yet as he stands there in front of you, he feels like you’re in his head. do you know the effect you had on him at the party? the effect you continue to have on him? shit, eren thinks, as he clenches and unclenches his fists. he wants to respond, play it off cool and act like he only agreed to come so enthusiastically because he cares about his grades, but his mind is blank.
“cat got your tongue?” you tease, shifting into a position that has you face-on to eren. then you slide to the edge of the bed and lean forward. “why so quiet, jaeger? that’s not like you, your loud mouth usually always has something to say.” those scrutinising eyes scan him from head to toe. slowly. “and where are all the materials anyway? the ones you were meant to bring? for the assignment?”
he feels caught, trapped like prey, and with every few-second flick of your eyes, every purposely chosen word and perfectly timed pause, he feels himself get smaller and smaller.
“don’t tell me,” you start, but with those three words alone, eren already knows his fate has been sealed, “you thought we wouldn’t actually be doing the assignment?” you’re smiling now, the same smile you had in that bathroom three weeks ago as you palmed him through his cum-soaked pants. “what did you think we were going to do, huh? please, tell me...” your eyes narrow into slits and your lips stretch out in a smile, showing off teeth that flash like a predator’s. “i am so curious.”
you’re pushing his buttons, making him feel like the desperate one, and maybe he is, but could you blame him? eren just wants another taste of what you gave him at the party, and most of all, he wants you. he realises that maybe you really did just send that text with the intention of working on the assignment, but there’s no denying that in this moment, that’s not what this is; in this moment, you’re nudging him forward after toying with his sexual frustration, and in this moment, eren decides to put a stop to it.
he stomps forward until he’s looming over you, a sharp scowl twisting his features. “stop playing dumb, (name). you know damn well what you were doing when you sent me that text,” he snarls, sea green eyes stormy and narrowed. “i’m done with these games, alright? if you’re not going to take responsibility for making me like this, then– then i will.” he almost falters from the weight of your eyes, the way they just sit there, waiting and unfazed, but he steels his composure. “you’re just a brat anyway,” he says, leaning in. “all you really want is for someone to put you back in your place.”
that smile hasn’t left; hasn’t so much as twitched. in the position you’re in, you’re looking up at him, but the way you’re doing it makes it feel as though eren is the one looking up, the one being looked down on. “well... you’re right about me knowing what i was doing,” you admit, “but the rest? not so much. not for me, anyway.” you trace the collar of eren’s t-shirt with your fingertips, drag your palm down his chest...
you suddenly bunch up the fabric and yank it with a tight fist. your other hand catches eren’s shoulder and keeps him steady as his palms land on either side of you, knees bent and head in the crook of your neck. “come now, jaeger. do you really think i’m the brat in this situation?” you say softly, your breath warm and your lips featherlight as they graze his ear lobe. “put me back in my place?” you giggle quietly and it reverberates through eren’s skull like a thunder clap. “does that really sound like something you want to do to me?” he can feel the way you smile against the shell of his ear, the wetness of your teeth. “or is that just the only way you know how to ask for something to be done to you?”
eren is hidden in your neck yet he feels completely exposed. he wants to mask the way your words make his breathing stutter, but when you’re this close, even he knows it’s no use. all he can do is stay right where he is, frozen in a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.
you shove eren back and he crumbles to the floor on all fours. “that’s more like it.” you tilt your head at him as he sits up on his knees. “doesn’t this feel so much better?”
eren doesn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it does feel better. his gaze drops to his lap in shame but that’s where he sees the even more shameful bulge that’s formed between his legs. he instinctually covers it up, but he’s too late, and his attempt at hiding it only confirms what you already know. you reach over and angle his head up by his chin. you have an unimpressed expression on your face, but your eyes contrast it with their fiery intrigue. “wow, eren,” you say through an amused sigh as you lean in close to his face. “are you seriously hard right now?”
he swallows nervously and presses his thighs together. his breathing is already faltering in his chest, but he tries to keep it steady as he replies, “you can’t blame me. you’ve been teasing me ever since you left me at the party. just like this.”
a hand yanks his head back by his hair and eren is unable to stop the moan that escapes him. he chews on his lip as you sneer down at him. “being left like that was exactly what you deserved,” you mutter, then you raise your eyebrows, feigning a contemplative expression, “but maybe another, harsher punishment is what you need to learn your lesson, hm?”
eren’s dick twitches and he would’ve nodded too, if he didn’t register at the last minute that punishments aren’t meant to be enjoyed.
you catch it anyway, and scoff. “of course, you’d like that, you fucking whore.” you let go of his hair and lean back. eren stares at you, confused, until you pat your lap. “sit,” you tell him. your posture is relaxed, in contrast to his, which tenses as he straddles your lap, resting his hands on your shoulders. your eyes widen and you smile incredulously. “i guess leaving you like that wasn’t entirely useless, huh?” you laugh to yourself and massage along his hips and thighs before finally tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down, slowly, along with his underwear. a shudder runs down eren’s spine at the touch of cool air on his skin. his hard cock bumps against his abdomen, leaving behind a shiny smudge of precum. you tap his wet tip and draw circles around it, making eren hiss and briefly dig his nails into your shoulders.
“don’t–” he stops himself when you glance up at him.
your eyebrows raise. “what was that?” you ask, but he just swallows and remains silent. “use your manners, baby. you’ve done it once before, so i know you can.” your other hand snakes under his t-shirt and caresses his side. “don’t get shy now. if you’re cute enough, i might give you a reward.”
eren shifts in your lap. there’s a pause. then, “please.”
you chuckle. “come on, ‘ren,” you say, “you can do better than that.”
he looks exasperated, but tries again anyway. “please,” he repeats. “please just– just touch me. please.”
he makes it too easy to tease him, you think, as you grin wickedly. “but i’m touching you right now, aren’t i?”
eren groans. “yes but– you’re not–” he jumps as you dip your nail gently into his slit. “fuck, just put your hand around my cock please.”
you surprise him by doing exactly that, a loud moan being torn out of him. your grip is tight as you drag your fingers down his length, spreading his precum. with how pent up he’s been, eren feels like he’s close already. his body tingles with pleasure and anticipation. it’s almost too much, yet not enough, the way you slide your hand up then down, up then down, steady and unrushed. just as eren is about to ask you to go faster, you rotate your hand over his leaking tip and he chokes on his words. you do it again, and again, before returning to your previous motions. you repeat this, changing your pace a few times, just to watch him squirm, before resuming your steady pumping. eren begins to wonder if you’re waiting for him to beg more, if you’ll just keep doing this until he asks you to go faster, but the next time you change your pace, it’s fast and doesn’t stop, just goes even faster. eren stumbles over his breaths. he’s relieved, but at the same time it’s too fast. “fuck, slo– slow down,” he says in a strangled voice. he is hurtling toward his orgasm, he’s definitely not going to last. shit, how were you able to go so fast and hard at the same time? it felt like he was on fire. he’s so–
you stop.
a single meek drop of precum trickles down eren’s dick.
“no–” he groans. “what the fuck? why did– why didn’t you–”
“did you forget already?” you interrupt, grinning from ear to ear. eren’s lips remain pursed in frustration. “this is your punishment, remember?”
a range of emotions pass over eren’s face: realisation, horror, anger, desperation, self-pity. you watch his inner conflict set aflame, how he looks down at his aching dick, how his fingers twitch and one hand even goes as far as to dip down to try and touch himself, but you grab it and place it back around your neck. “only i get to touch you, and only i will decide when you get to cum,” you tell him and eren curses under his breath but stays put. from there, you go back to touching him. you bring him to the edge, over and over, abusing your knowledge of all his weak spots, squeezing and rubbing and pumping vigourously for what must be at least eight times; until his speech is slurred and his pleas are barely intelligible.
when you let go for the final time, you hear him sniffle against your neck.
“that bad, huh?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. you slip your hands beneath his shirt and trace the smooth plains of his torso, up and down, feeling the muscles ripple and writhe from the barely-there touch. “okay,” you say, “you’ve been good, so i’ll reward you now.” his hips jut out violently and grind against your stomach. you grab his drenched cock and suck your teeth in disapproval. “don’t ruin it by getting too greedy now, eren.”
he stares at you, turquoise irises engulfed in black pupils, and licks his lips. “what’s my reward?”
you just smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you answer. you pull up his waistband and snap it against his sensitive cock, making him yelp. “first, i want you to get up and take off your clothes.”
eren is eager and obeys quickly, making a show of it as he does; flexing his muscles a little more than necessary, his movements slow and sensual and tempting because that’s just how he’s done this every time before this. but the sooner that usual ego of his rises, the sooner it falls, because once he’s down to his last item of clothing — his boxers — he just stands there like he doesn’t know what to do next. he does, of course, but he’s feeling what seems like dread at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. not because he’s insecure, but the fact that it’s you he’s showing it to; you with your fox grins and cruel, humiliating words, your rough treatment and watchful eyes... fuck, just the thought is making him harder, and then even harder as he wonders if you can see it. will you point it out? will you make fun of him? call him names?
eren jumps when you graze his crotch with the end of your foot. “having second thoughts?” you say, teasing but serious all the same.
“no,” he says without hesitating.
“then go on.” you lift your foot and eren tenses in anticipation, but you just grin wider and point to the head of his dick, peering out slightly from his boxers, without touching it. “don’t keep me waiting.”
he slides the waistband down his thighs and lets it drop to his feet, then steps out and tosses the garment aside. you’re still fully clothed and relaxed while you look him up and down. eren slides a hand over the top of his hair, pushing away the fallen strands. he thought he felt exposed earlier, but now it’s even worse. your eyes are practically devouring him, but you can’t help it. the way he’s standing there, completely nude while you aren’t, waiting for your next command while staring at you with those dark aqua eyes from under pretty dark eyelashes. no number of late-night fantasising would do this sight justice, yet you wonder if you can make it even better. you wonder if you can push him just a little bit further, see how much more you can bend him before he breaks.
“you look nervous, eren,” you say. “are you sure you–”
“yes! yes, i’m sure,” he all but gasps out.
you arch an eyebrow at his interruption. “i was going to say are you sure you want this? are you sure you want me?” you clarify. “for all i know, you’re just a slut who’ll pounce on anyone. how do i know i’m not just a set of holes to you, hm?”
eren frowns. “no, that’s not–” he steps closer to you and sinks to his knees in front of you. “i only want you, (name). no one...” his cheeks flush hot and he looks away from your eyes. “no one else could fuck me as good as you.”
it’s not the entire truth and you know that. you’ve always been good at reading people. though eren may be better than the average person at lying, around you? all of that depletes and he becomes an open book. “and how would you know that?” you say as you lean back on your palms.
“i don’t,” eren says as he places his hands on your knees, “but maybe you can show me?”
it’s pathetic yet so beautiful to see a man like eren jaeger like this: on his knees and at your disposal. it’s almost a shame you couldn’t get here sooner, but you’ve always believed in delayed gratification, in trusting the process and the like; that’s why you adore men like him, who’ve only ever been doms and have never even considered anything else. it’s so much fun to string them along, allow them to unknowingly fall into a false sense of security, to make them think you’re just another obedient little sub, and how once you’ve built that up enough, breaking them is all the sweeter.
the shift of you leaning forward makes eren sit up. he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but you gently petting his hair definitely isn’t it. he melts, dropping his head and resting his cheek against your knee, just like you thought he would. after all, you noticed that pushing back loose hair is a nervous tic of his, and so naturally this kind of touch comforts him. you smile fondly at that.
the tender moment is broken by eren humping your leg. you’re not sure if he even realises he’s doing it. his eyes are shut and he’s whimpering like a dog. the grasp he has around your knees tightens. “eren,” you say to him and he seems to regain some awareness, stopping his movement and looking up at you. “would you like your reward?”
he breathes out like he’s been holding it. “please.”
you pat the space behind you. “come lay down.”
he does so and you wait for him to get comfortable before perching yourself on his lap. you begin by sliding your hands up his torso and back down again, tracing the dips and curves of his body. you litter kisses from his neck to his collarbone and chest. your breath ghosts over a nipple and eren shivers. you take a second to smile before flicking your tongue over the dark pink bud. his chest raises off the bed and into your mouth as you latch onto the nub and swirl your tongue around it. your hand makes work of his other nipple and eren’s hips buck into you. a string of spit forms and snaps as you pull away and resume your path down his torso, pecking down his belly, hip and finally, his inner thigh. you feel eren squirm as your cool breaths hit his drooling cock. you flatten your tongue and lick up from the base, kissing the tip wetly before taking it into your mouth and sucking hard. eren throws his head back and moans, fallen strands fanning out against the pillows. his hips are restless, so you hold them down while you slide down to the base, then back up to suck on the tip again. your motions are smooth, aided by saliva and precum, as you begin to bob your head up and down his length.
eren’s fingers find your hair and cling there. you break away to mutter a cautionary, “easy,” then swallow down his cock again, moving quicker now. with how you’ve been teasing and edging him, you suspect that he’ll cum soon. his sounds get higher and louder, more frequent, and every so often the hands on your head flinch or scratch or curl.
“i’m close, i’m close,” eren warns through laboured breaths. his skin is damp with sweat, long strands sticking to his forehead in curled shapes. “please le– let me cum.”
you answer him by not stopping, by using your hand to pump the bottom half of his cock while continuing to suck on the rest with hollowed cheeks and wet lips.
“fuck, m’gonna c– ah! fuck, please let– please!” his back arches, sheets peeling off his skin before he collapses again, abdomen contracting. “please say i can–” his nails dig into your scalp as he moans, drawn out and loud. hot fluid fills up your mouth and throat. you swallow and don’t cease moving until eren is pawing at your face and mumbling about how it’s too much. afterwards, unable to hold back your teasing nature, you give a few kitten licks to his reddened tip, enjoying how it makes him whine and jolt.
“i take it you liked your reward then?” you say, pushing away the stringy hair around his cheeks and forehead.
“yeah,” eren pants, and as he’s lying there, all blissed out and in the process of winding down from his high, you’re gazing down at him in a way he’s only been able to dream of until now and he realises that sure, blowjobs aren’t anything special or revolutionary, but everything leading up to it is what made it so amazing, you are what made it so amazing. you’re everything he didn’t know he wanted, the key that unlocked his hidden desires, and even if you were to leave him hard and aching for your touch again, even if you teased him to no end and laughed at him and called him names, he’d still come back if you gave him the chance because he loves it. he loves you.
you lean in and kiss eren; delicately, kindly, with care and a gentle want, a peaceful want reserved for lovers, because somewhere along the way you started to develop feelings for him. eren had only hoped for such a thing, thought that it was wishful thinking and delusion that gave him the impression you might feel the same way. maybe you didn’t at the beginning; maybe it started out as just lust, but right now you love him and he loves you. the lust is still there, but it’s soft now, and so much more than it was.
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notes. couldn’t help making it soft at the end! i’ve reread this so many times i genuinely have no idea if it’s good but i hope you enjoyed it<3
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pucksandpower · 7 months
Text
Grid Kids: Escapades
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: everyone’s favorite grid family takes on their biggest challenge yet … an escape room
Series Masterlist
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“Alright, who thought it would be a good idea to lock a bunch of F1 drivers in a room and expect them to work together to get out?” Charles grumbles, eyeing the cryptic clues scattered around the dimly lit space.
George smirks, picking up a coded message. “Well you’ve had plenty of practice trying to decipher Ferrari’s strategy lately, so maybe you’ve got an advantage here?”
The room erupts in laughter as Charles feigns a wounded expression. “Low blow, George! Do I not suffer enough already?”
Lando, fidgeting with what looks like an ancient artifact, suddenly blurts out, “Do you think this is like a button or something?” Before anyone can respond, there’s an audible snap and the artifact falls apart in his hands.
“Seriously, Lando?” Max exclaims, shaking his head in amusement. “First my trophy, now this? Hands off everything, please!”
You chuckle, patting Lando’s back consolingly. “It’s alright. Maybe breaking things is part of the puzzle?”
Lance, busy trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, adds, “At this rate, we’re never getting out of here.”
Mick, focusing on a puzzle piece, comments, “We’ve only got an hour, guys. Let’s get serious.”
Sebastian begins delegating. “Alright, George and Max, you handle the codes. Mick, Charles, focus on the physical puzzles. Lance, Lando — just ... try not to break anything else.”
As the room buzzes with activity, you can’t help but think that this is one of the best ideas you’ve had in a while. It’s hilarious watching these fiercely competitive drivers work together in a situation that doesn’t involve cars and tracks.
After a series of (mostly) successful problem-solving attempts, a loud buzzer sounds, indicating you’re out of time. The doors swing open, revealing a grinning staff member.
“You were only one clue away!” she exclaims, clapping. “Not bad for a first attempt!”
Max looks around the room, a smirk forming. “Well, if Lando didn’t break that artifact, maybe we would’ve made it.”
Lando throws his hands up defensively. “Hey! I added character to the room.”
Everyone bursts into laughter, making their way out. Another day, another adventure — this one off the track.
***
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sebastian mutters, amusement evident in his eyes, as he steps into the living room. There are strings hanging from the ceiling, makeshift locks on the furniture, and “cryptic” clues pinned everywhere, like Look UNDER the couch, accompanied by a not-so-subtle arrow pointing downwards.
You, equally surprised and amused, chuckle. “What in the world happened here?”
Charles steps forward, barely containing his laughter. “Welcome to the Grand Prix Escape Room! Guaranteed to be at least 90% more escape-able than the one we failed at.”
George adds, pointing to a padlocked fridge, “I did the food clues. Trust me, they’re the most challenging.”
Max chimes in, “And Lando ... well, we didn’t let him touch anything breakable this time.”
Lando mock-pouts, “One little accident and suddenly I’m the family menace.”
Lance hands you a paper that reads The KEY to success is WHERE you eat BREAKFAST. He grins, “That’s my contribution. Top tier clue, right?”
Mick has a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “I suggest you look in very obvious places. We wouldn’t want this to be too hard.”
As you and Sebastian navigate through the hilariously straightforward challenges — like the “hidden” key taped directly next to the padlocked fridge or the note on the oven saying THIS IS NOT A CLUE, just wanted to remind you we have pie — it becomes clear that this isn’t about the challenge at all.
It’s about laughter, family, and the simple joy of being together.
After an entertaining fifteen minutes, which involves Sebastian dramatically pretending to struggle with a code that's simply “1234,” you successfully escape.
Mick raises a toast with room temperature champagne (they forgot to place it in the fridge before it was padlocked), “To the greatest escape artists in the world!”
You laugh, “And to the best, most creative grid kids in the universe!”
***
You wake up to the soft chimes of your alarm, stretching lazily before noticing an envelope on your bedside table. Scrawled on it in mismatched rainbow crayons is Mission: Breakfast Heist.
Opening the note, you read:
Dear Y/N and Seb,
Your breakfast has been stolen! To get it back, follow the clues and embark on a thrilling adventure. Also, no cheating by ordering takeout!
The Breakfast Bandits (aka your grid kids)
Amused, you head downstairs, following a trail of strategically placed toast crumbs. In the kitchen, you find another note taped to the coffee machine: To get your morning brew, tell us a joke that’s new!
Sebastian, rubbing sleep from his eyes, joins you and declares, “Why did the coffee file a police report? It got mugged!” Mick appears from behind you, making both of you jump, and hands you two cups of coffee before backing away silently.
Chuckling, you move on to find that on the fridge, instead of a padlock, there’s a touchpad with a question on its digital display: What’s hot yet cool at the same time?
You ponder it for a moment, thinking of all the possible answers. Sebastian, catching on to the playful challenge set by the grid kids, smirks and says, “It’s the Iceman, isn’t it?”
You both laugh, with you playfully nudging Sebastian, “I always knew you thought Kimi was hot.”
Entering K-I-M-I on the touchpad, the fridge beeps in agreement and swings open, revealing a lavish breakfast spread and a note that reads: Breakfast is served! We might have kept it under lock and key but only to make it special. Enjoy!
From the doorway, the “Breakfast Bandits” applaud, their faces beaming with mischief.
Lance grins, “Took you long enough! And Seb, never knew you had a thing for Kimi.”
Charles joins in the teasing, “Seems like there are still some secrets in the paddock!”
Sebastian playfully rolls his eyes, “At least my secret doesn’t involve singing into a hairbrush every night before bed.”
Charles blushes as the room bursts into laughter. “Who told you about that?” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Lando, who’s trying hard (and failing miserably) to stifle his giggles.
Lando attempts to defend himself through his laughter, “It wasn’t me! But if we’re confessing, who knew that Seb’s haircare routine involved more products than all of ours combined?”
Sebastian raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Gotta keep the locks looking good, don’t I?”
Max interjects, “Well, if we’re on the topic of secrets, who wants to bet on how many stuffed animals Lando has on his bed?”
Lando gasps dramatically, “Betrayed by my own brothers! Next time, I’m hiding them all in George’s room!”
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pupyuj · 7 months
Text
→ “simple solutions.” || kim minjeong (winter) x reader fic.
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— you always knew that your friend minjeong would never leave you to rot in your apartment all alone, so you make sure to call her over just to pass time. and today was one of those days...
word count: 2.7k
dynamic: g!pswitch!taken!winter x switch!bimbo!reader.
content warnings: smut, hate/angry sex technically, cheating, oral, blowjob, deepthroat, throatfucking, unprotected sex, meanjeong!!!
requested? : nope.
a/n: a gift for the most normal winter fan i know, @wintersera 😭❤️‍🔥 i made this when i was half-asleep so sorry if there are any mistakes, loves 🙏
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clear skies and crisp air; you could literally do every outdoor activity imaginable right now. cycling, walking, jogging, and all the things you normally do on days like this. yet somehow, you felt like doing the opposite of going out. somehow, you didn't want to feel the sun on your skin and bask in it's late-morning, early-afternoon shine. you wanted to stay in your apartment, right under the comfort of your super-soft blankets and pillows, and—there is really no other way to put it—get fucked raw.
and so you message the only person who you knew would be more than willing to fulfill your needs.
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you smiled at your phone screen, satisfied, before turning it off and focusing your attention on the movie in front of you. but of course, your mind was still elsewhere. you were practically buzzing with excitement—what with the small smile on your lips, the way you couldn't stop looking at your phone for any notifications, and the wet spot that was starting to form on your panties solely due to the thought of her.
ah, speaking of which—you heard the familiar sounds of a car engine coming to a stop, and a few minutes later, your front door opening and closing, and then the thundering footsteps coming up the stairs. you leaned back on the headboard of your bed as your bedroom door swung open, revealing an out-of-breath kim minjeong, handsomely pretty as ever.
you bit your bottom lip as you stared at her... and the sweat that made her hair stick to her damp forehead, her mindlessly-put-on jacket, and oh that big fucking tent in her stupid baggy shorts... she looked like the lamest loser in the world, but you still got up from your bed in your oversized tee and panties-only glory, grabbed minjeong's sleeve and pulled her in for a searing kiss. one where you found your hands on her hair, and she puts hers on your hips. her lips moved in sync with yours—desperate, hungry, and so fucking needy—as it always did.
you pulled minjeong's jacket off her body, smiling into the kiss seeing that she had only been wearing a cropped tank top underneath. you always have been a sucker for skin-to-skin contact. one of your hands move to the back of minjeong's neck to deepen the kiss, and you wrapped your other arm around her, pulling her closer and finally making her give in and completely melt into you. minjeong's hands start roaming your body, groping and squeezing everywhere like she has never touched another girl before. it was cute. she squeezes your ass with both hands and then slaps it, making you moan and giving minjeong the opportunity to shove her tongue inside your mouth, getting a better taste of the sweet apples you had just before you decided to invite her over directly from your tongue.
eventually, you stumbled back into your bed, still kissing minjeong until she reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air.
"oh." minjeong suddenly picks up her jacket from the floor, fishing for something in the pockets.
you leaned back on your arms as you waited for her to return in front of you, where she held a condom between her fingers. "forget it, minjeong," you said, swatting the condom out of her fingers and smirking at the sight of her annoyed expression. "i want to feel your cock inside me without some stupid rubber getting in the way." you tucked your fingers underneath the waistband of her shorts and pulled it down. and minjeong did wear the briefs that you loved seeing on her so much.
"would you look at that," you poked her hard dick, giggling at the sight of the wet spot that was presumably because of her precum. "and you said you didn't want to come over."
"shut up."
you almost considered just making minjeong dry hump you until she comes in her cute briefs because you really did love them on her but fuck, you needed her cock inside you. immediately.
you pulled down her briefs, letting it fall to her ankles, and was met with the sight of her throbbing hard dick that was more than ready to fuck into you. "everyday i wonder why people keep getting surprised whenever you tell them you have a dick when it's this big." and it was nearly as thick as your wrist too. just so fucking perfect. minjeong really was.
minjeong was sensitive, already whining as you started stroking her length slowly. or maybe she just really liked the way you touched her. either way, she sounded so cute. you stuck your tongue out and licked off the precum leaking from her slit with a satisfying hum, making minjeong bucks her hips into your hand, hoping to get you to suck her off already. "fucking get it over with, (y/n). i have to leave quickly." minjeong was saying, taking a hold of your wrist but you push her hand away.
"says who? you're gonna fuck me and come inside me until you're drained and i'm full to the brim with your cum," the thought alone makes your clit twitch. you leave several kisses down her stomach, and left a hickey right on her abdomen. "right now, you're mine, minjeong. forget about your girl."
that's exactly what happens the moment your lips capture her tip, sucking on it and making minjeong moan loudly grab your bedside table for support. her other hand goes to your head, slowly nudging you downwards as you eased more of her length down your throat. christ, no matter how many times you take her cock in your throat it was always hard and painfully slow because of her sheer size. but see, that's what you loved about it all. the challenge, and that gratifying feeling that washes over you when minjeong's cock hit the back of your throat.
"fuckfuckfuck... (y/n)..." her little whines were a bonus too. her clutches your hair tightly and starts moving your head back and forth on her full length, not at all minding the pain she was feeling from how your nails dug so far into her thighs. you were sure to leave marks there but minjeong's girlfriend wouldn't notice. she never notices anything.
"mhm...! fuck, you dumb slut...!" she was completely fucking your throat now. minjeong held your cheeks in her hands, thrusting her hips into your face aand fucking your mouth like it was your ass. ugh, she drove you crazy. every time you gag and clench your throat around her, it pushes minjeong closer and closer to the edge. eventually, she starts moving her hips desperately, chasing after her orgasm.
"(y/n).. ah—i'm c-coming... fuck..!"
one last thrust and your mouth was filled with her warm cum as she came with a cute whine. as hard as it was to breathe with minjeong's cock literally just spurting semen down your throat, you still made sure to swallow every drop, not wasting a single one. minjeong pulls out of your mouth, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily — fuck, she looked hot.
you cleaned up her cock with your tongue while minjeong watched looking all flustered as if the two of you hadn't been fucking behind her girlfriend's back for months now. minjeong cups your cheek with one hand, wiping the tiny spot of cum that managed to get there and then inserted her thumb inside your mouth.
"were none of your other friends available?" minjeong asked, her nail pressing hard against your tongue.
you shook your head, and minjeong removes her thumb to let you speak, "you know you're my favorite, minjeong." you kissed her hand and stood up, letting her grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. you weren't wearing a bra, so minjeong quick to take your breasts in her hands, relishing in the sounds of your soft moans. minjeong dips her head and starts leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses all the way down to your collarbone, where she leaves several marks.
"mine." she whispered and nibbled softly on your skin.
minjeong might allow other people to kiss you, touch you, and fuck you, but she always made sure to make it known that you truly belonged to one person only and it was her. she said it through the hickeys she left on your neck and chest, through the fact that you owned several shirts of hers, the fact that she had a custom-made guitar pick with your initials on them (you didn't know of this), and the way she would almost always drop anything and everything to meet up with you.
it would've been romantic had minjeong not been cheating on her current girlfriend, but not everything works out fine. and there was really only one simple solution this problem... and that was cheating, apparently.
minjeong didn't like it. she was a good person. she believed she was, you knew in your heart she was, everybody knew she was. but something pulled her to you, and it was unbreakable no matter how much she tried to stop herself. you were beautiful, you were captivating, mesmerizing—everything about you just pulls her in.
"hm." minjeong traces her finger along your collarbone where she has left more than a lot of hickeys. you didn't care that it was messy. whatever minjeong wanted, you were willing to give it to her.
you sat further on your bed, pulling minjeong down along with you while you kissed. her tongue was once again inside your mouth, not even letting you get a taste of dominance with the way her tongue expertly wore you down. she swiftly pulls off of panties and breaks the kiss to look at your now fully naked body. so fucking perfect, and it's all for her.
"what's the hold up, minjeong? hurry. your girlfriend's waiting back home, right? let's get this over with." you teased, spreading your folds open to give her the full view of your pussy, clenching around nothing and so deliciously wet. minjeong doesn't even make an effort to talk back to you, she simply grabs her dick and puts her tip right along your entrance. you hold onto her arm and your bedsheets as minjeong thrusts her cock inside you, both of you moaning in unison at the feeling. as soon as your warm cunt surrounds her cock, minjeong's brain just shuts down and she's focused on only one thing: to come inside you.
"you're so slow... fucking move, minjeong or else i'll— ahh...!"
annoyed, minjeong was quick to shut you up by giving you what you wanted, but in a pace faster than you expected. not that you were protesting. she pushes you down on the bed so that you were laying on your back, holding onto your thighs as she pounded your pussy just how you like it. fuck, she filled you up so good... her cock was just the right kind of thick that it made you feel so full. it was almost hypnotizing, and you get so lost in pleasure that you almost turn into a completely different person.
you were whining, whimpering, and saying minjeong's name in such a sweet way. "m-mminjeong-ah...! fuck... please, harder..." you were gripping the bedsheets tightly underneath you, and your back arched with every thrust. minjeong just knew where to hit you, how to use her cock in a way that would drive you to insanity.
"harder, minjeong...!" you pleaded again, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her closer. minjeong was always quick to give you what you want but it was never enough. you needed her to to use you, to ruin you, to act as if you were nothing but a toy to her. but unfortunately, minjeong was too fucking nice for all that... so you have to push her.
grabbing her arms, you pulled her down for a kiss. you wrapped your arms around her neck, your moans now getting higher and sounding more desperate now that minjeong was fucking you so much better. she was getting into it now, knees planted on your bed and your thighs right over hers. she was holding your legs back by the back of your knees, making sure that every thrust was hard and went deeper than the last. she looked so cute with her eyebrows furrowed, so focused on the pleasure of it all.
you couldn't help but look down to watch as your pussy got pounded, only getting even more horny at the sight. the two of you looked too good together.
"i b-bet she doesn't let you fuck her like this, right, minjeong?" you took note of how her eyes snapped at you, all annoyed now. "or at all... what do you even see in her...? mmhm.. so fucking pretty, but such a prude... even jimin-sunbae was more interesting—mmph..! ahh..." you bit your lip when minjeong takes a hold of your waist with both hands and slams into you, effectively shutting you up but only for that one moment.
"ever think about her while you're f-fucking me, minjeong? huh? maybe you... god... maybe you're even imagining that she's me right now... fuck you if that's the case but.. ahh... whatever makes you use me better," you grinned at the way minjeong's eyes bore through you, so filled with anger. more. you have to push her more. "leave her, minjeong. you know t-there's only one pussy in this world that can satisfy you... and that's mine—mmf!"
"shut up. just shut up." minjeong clamps her hand around your mouth and pounds you harder than ever. any trace of that careful and gentle good 'friend' of yours was gone, and you had to admit that this is the version of minjeong that you liked the most. the one you brought out of her, the one you practically created.
your minjeong.
minjeong's thrusts were getting sloppier, and clumsier as she neared her climax. moaning and muttering profanities in your ear, biting into your shoulder, her nails digging into your waist even deeper. all of these habits you were so familiar with. the way her cock dragged within your walls had you mind reeling, you were practically drooling—she just fucked you so good.
minjeong lets go of your jaw to clutch the bedsheets, "i'm coming again... (y/n)...!"
"don't you dare pull out," you held onto minjeong's neck, pulling her face close. "come inside me."
"you're f-fucking crazy... i won't do that..." but minjeong knew you wouldn't let her pull out. especially when you kissed her deeply and started clutching on her neck. "(y/n)... shitshit..." minjeong shakes her head and buries her face on your shoulder, letting you lock your legs around her waist and hug her.
"i got you, baby... just come..! fill me u-up, please, minjeong...!"
merely seconds later, minjeong releases her load inside you with a gasp, and you held onto her for dear life as you came undone yourself. your juices mixing with her own and spilling out of your cunt, making a mess of your bed but you didn't care.
an hour or two later, when you and minjeong have fully recovered from your high, she pulls herself out of your embrace and started dressing up. you merely watched, being familiar with this situation already. before minjeong could finish getting dressed, you grabbed her shirt and gently tugged her down, capturing her lips in a soft kiss before you pulled away.
minjeong stares at you, and for the first time you couldn't get a read on her.
"we can't keep doing this. i can't."
she sounded like she meant it, you could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. minjeong left quickly after that, leaving you alone in your bed that got increasingly cold as soon as she went out the door.
but the thing is, minjeong wanted to mean it. and you wanted to believe that she meant it. but it was hard to do that. it always has been.
especially when two weeks later, minjeong stands on your front porch drenched from the rain. eyes red and puffy, lips quivering from both the cold and her emotions. and she says the words that immediately made you tug her inside your home.
"i broke up with her. i need you."
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chloessleepystories · 6 months
Note
We have storms hitting both the east coast and west coast. Could we get a story about storms changing people on a rainy day leading to some steamy nights?
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The buzz was insistent, a double, triple buzz. Jeremy hit the button to unlock the front door and a moment later heard her pounding steps coming up the stairs.
“Jesus look at you, you’re soaked!”
Candace was drenched, but smiling, as she crossed the threshold of his apartment. “Whaaat? It’s just a little rain,” she grinned.
He laughed. “You’re an idiot. Let me get a towel.”
She peeled off her sopping sweater as he called from the bathroom, “You know we could have just done this another night.”
“Are you nuts?” she called back. “It’s already hard enough to avoid spoilers online, I’m going to wait another 24 hours before catching up on Ahsoka?”
“Here, try this.” Jeremy was holding out one towel as he threw another on the floor at her feet. “You’re dripping everywhere.”
“Well if you would just share your password like a normal person, I could watch it at my house.” She squeezed the towel around her long hair, then tried to pat dry her skirt.
“I would if I could!” he protested. “You know they’re all cracking down on that shit.” He led the way into his cozy living room. “Anyway, I like sharing it with you.”
“I know. I like coming over here too.” She smiled shyly. He smiled too. After a moment, she looked away. “It’s a … It’s a good thing our apartments are so close together.”
“You mean you walked over here?”
“What?” She was standing by the TV, still dripping everywhere. “It’s just a couple blocks. And it’s a nice warm night.”
“A nice warm night with a freak storm,” Jeremy laughed, reclining on the couch. “You didn’t check the weather forecast before you headed out, huh?”
“Nah. I don’t believe in that stuff, any – ahchoo! - anyway.”
The sneeze didn’t seem that hard, but she swayed dizzily for a moment.
“You don’t believe in … ? What, just a conspiracy of meteorologists, you mean?”
She giggled. “I just mean the forecasts are so often wrong, I don’t even – don’t even – ahchooo!! … Don’t even uh bother … ”
Jeremy stood up, slowly. The first time he thought he was imagining it, but the second time … “Are you feeling all right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I coulda sworn, when you sneezed just then, your … your uh …” He gestured to his chest, unable to say ‘breasts,’ or any of the other synonyms that came to mind. “I mean, it’s a pretty thin top, it doesn’t hide much, like …”
She folded her arms, and pouted, a little cuter pout than he had seen her make before. “Jer, you’re actin’ real weird all of a – all of a …”
There was no denying it this time. Her chest bulged as she let out her biggest sneeze yet. Candace was normally flat as a board, but suddenly her soaking wet top was sticking to – well, there was no other word for it – her sizeable tits.
Her eyes crossed for a moment, and she staggered. When she recovered from the explosion, she looked down and gasped. “What the shit are these?” she said, grasping them with both hands. Her voice seemed a little higher than before, more breathy, but there was an edge of panic to it as well.
“I think you’re coming down with something …” Jeremy said, knowing how dumb it sounded.
“Oh, you think?”
“You should probably uh … you should get out of those wet clothes …?”
She giggled, then mock-scowled. “Oh, nice try, buddy, I see what you’re – I see … I … oh shit”
Ah – CHOOO!!
“Ow ow ow!!” Her voice had climbed another octave. “It hurts!! Je-er, help mee!!”
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Her tits were straining the buttons on her shirt, and her tiny bra, usually barely needed, was obviously pinching in several places, trying to hold in the unaccustomed mass. He moved toward her.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to – oof!”
She threw her arms around him, held him tight. She pressed her whole, wet body against his, soaking his tee shirt in moments. She was nose to nose. She pushed her bottom lip out and made her eyes big and damp. Jeremy thought she had never looked lovelier. “I need help, please,” she panted.
She was rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Probably by accident. His erection didn’t care. He licked his lips. “Yeah, yeah, let’s uh … let’s get that off. Do you want to go in the uh …”
She stepped back, and ripped open her top in a desperate moment. A button pinged off one of his bookshelves. In a moment, she was showing him more skin than she ever had in all the years of their friendship – her chest heaving, her arms bare, her hair long and flowing (and could it possibly be longer than before?) and her plain-and-simple bra laboring with the effort of holding back the swelling melons.
Jeremy swept a palm across his forehead. Was it getting warm in here? He was wet with sweat. Wet with something – he plucked at his damp tee shirt, which was sticking to him. He rubbed his jean-covered thigh, which was spongy with water too and likewise sticking … like, were his jeans shrinking?
“Now, now listen uh – ”
“Here, here,” she turned around to show him her almost-bare back, and he broke out in sweats again. “I can’t reach it! Can you get it?” He barely registered how high-pitched her voice was now, so distracted by trying to figure out what she was asking. After a moment, it clicked, and he sprang forward to fumble with the clasp of her bra.
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As soon as he had it undone, the cups flew off her boobs to land on the carpet two feet away. Her tits, released, sprang out and wobbled around like nothing he had seen outside ridiculous anime porn, as she swung around toward him. She was topless, and he grasped his swelling cock through his jeans. She was topless in his apartment, and she looked like a wet-dream cartoon.
Sounded like one too. “Ohhh!! Thank you thank you!!” she chirped. “That’s sooo much better!!!” Her eyes went to where his hand was kneading his erection, and she licked his lips. “And I know what would make it better still …”
In a moment, she was pressed against him again, her wet jugs soaking his tight tee shirt further. She stripped the shirt off him with flattering haste, catching his ear painfully with the fabric, then ran her hands over his bare chest. “Mmmm … such muscles …”
Jeremy raised his eyebrows, fumbled for words. A skinny dork, he’d never considered himself muscled but … he had to agree she was right.
She dragged her boobs down his body, falling to her knees, fumbling with his belt. “I need it, I need it,” she whimpered.
“Candace … Candace, don’t you think we should …”
“Unh uh!” she giggled, shaking her head. “Call me Candi, I think I like that better …”
She jerked down pants and underpants in one movement, and gasped at the erection inches from her face. Her eyes crossed a bit, dazed, and … was she actually drooling, a little?
She swirled her tongue around the helmet, then took a couple inches of the shaft into her mouth. It swelled between her lips, and she looked up at him, his cock in her mouth, and winked.
Candi let the cock out of her mouth with a pop. She held up her heavy melons with both hands and whispered, “I know where this belongs …”
Jeremy’s shaft slid between her swaying funbags, still slick with the storm’s rain and Candi’s sweat, and as she held her tits around it, he began to stroke it up and down against her wet skin. It grew. And grew. And grew, to a length and thickness he absolutely knew it had never possessed before.
And as it did, he felt his brain grow more sluggish. His eyelids drooped. He looked at the bimbo on her knees before him with an animal lust. “Couch. Arm,” he grunted, his voice much lower than usual. “Now.”
She draped herself over the arm of his couch, flipping up her skirt. He snatched the panties off her trembling legs in an instant, and speared her gushing cunt with his thick monster cock. She screamed out in pain and ecstasy …
As the rain came down all over the city. All over thousands of unsuspecting strangers …
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An hour later, Candace and Jeremy lay sprawled on his carpet, panting. After a lot more exertion than either was used to, and months’ worth of orgasms crammed into one night, they were finally feeling a little more like themselves.
“What the fuck was that,” Candace said, in something closer to her usual tone of voice. Her breasts were no longer coconut sized, but they were still healthy large apples. Or maybe oranges, thought Jeremy.
Or maybe I’m just hungry.
He had expended a lot of energy, after all.
“I don’t know, but it was amazing, that’s for sure,” he rasped.
“We should uh … ” She sat up, looking around. Where was a glass of water when you needed one. She was powerfully thirsty. “Maybe we should hit the shower? Wash off the rest of it?”
“… Together?” he suggested.
“Why not? I think we’ve broken down that barrier.” She smiled. “You’ve been abusing all my holes for an hour, I think you’ve earned soaping up my bottom.”
Jeremy got slowly to his feet, cricked his neck. He was glad she still wanted to be friends. Maybe … maybe be more than friends. “Or …” he said.
She put out a hand, and he helped her up. “Or?”
He looked to the window, where rain was still spattering the panes.
“Or we could go outside and dance in the rain.”
Candace looked to the window. Her eyes slid to Jeremy’s smile.
And she grinned.
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mcdonaldsnumberone · 7 months
Text
LIGHTHOUSE!
make 'em swoon (prompt list) gender neutral reader
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CHIGIRI HYOMA!
a smile that makes his eyes soften!
Chigiri can be surprisingly uptight sometimes. He isn’t necessarily the most openly affectionate boyfriend, but once you pester him with your love enough, he’ll gradually open up and give into your ministrations. Sometimes he might grumble but still let you cling to him, and other times, he’ll follow along with your teasing just to turn the tables onto you and leave you flustered and buzzing. But the moments where you know he loves you and loves soaking up your attention is in the small clues. Whenever you grin at him, either to goad him into doing something or right before a kiss, Chigiri’s eyes light up a bit. No matter how thorny and tsundere he pretends to be, he’s deeply infatuated with you. He can’t even lie to himself about how in love he is with you, and it’s these kinds of cues that let you know how down horrendous your boyfriend is.
“Pleaseeeeee, pleaseeeeee?” You’re practically hanging off of the redhead’s arm, dragging him down with your body weight as you grip onto him like he’ll disappear if you let go. Your eyes are sparkling, and you’re trying to flash your most stunning smile at him. “Look at how cute the drinks are here! We have to go! It’ll be the perfect date idea! C’mon, can’t you at least do this much for your absolutely wonderful and perfect and flawless partner?”
Chigiri pretends to pout, even though you can see him looking at the cafe’s Instagram pictures with a bit of intrigue. “...Are you that set on going? Aren’t there cafes like this everywhere?”
“But this one is brand new! I wanna try the snacks and stuff myself, and we have to go before it gets super popular and crowded! It’ll be fun, I promise! Please?” You beg passionately, continually sidling up against Chigiri. You two both know that even though Chigiri acts like he can’t bear with your pleas, he actually likes it when you bombard him with your attention and will always eventually give in.
He shakes his head, acting as if he doesn’t have any other option. “Fine. I have some time, and I guess it won’t hurt to treat you. If you want to go that badly, then…”
You cheer loudly, immediately enjoying your victory and beaming up at him with nothing but pure joy and adoration. Chigiri can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest, and his breathing feels a little tighter when he sees how happy you are. His eyes warm up around the edges as he gazes at you getting all excited, and when you pull him in for a hug, he laughs defeatedly and holds you back. 
“Oh, I absolutely can’t wait to go! You’re the best, Hyoma!” You gush at him, and Chigiri swears that if you were a dog, your tail would be broken from how hard it would be wagging.
He grins coyly, happy to be able to monopolize your attention like this. “Mhm. I sure hope I am.”
YUKIMIYA KENYU!
pressing foreheads together!
Life is never easy, and you know that Yukimiya navigates all sorts of pressures constantly in his life. The demands of his professional life weren't like the same responsibilities that other kids his age had: not only was he a soccer player in the making, but he was also a model on the side! You did your best to be a stable but caring lover for him, and whenever he needed a breath of fresh air, you’d be there for him. But that doesn’t mean you two can’t have your own shenanigans from time to time, and Yukimiya often tries to steal a kiss or two during these intimate moments together. He might claim to be a pacifist on the playing field nor is he as flashy as some of his peers, but Yukimiya’s still a passionate man. There’s nothing that makes him feel more proud and smug at the same time than seeing you get flustered and knowing that he’s the only person that can have this kind of effect on you. 
Yukimiya’s wavy hair had always caught your eye, whether it be bouncing with each step of his walk or soft curls decorating the top of his pillow when you woke up before him in the mornings. Either way, whenever he was close to you, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and to touch it, stroking his delicate hair and soaking up Yukimiya’s attention.
“You’re staring so intently at me, love.” His voice shatters your attention, and you give a small squeak when he draws close, quickly closing the gap between your bodies. He slings his arms around you, trapping you in a net of limbs and frantic heartbeats. “Is there something you want?”
A pleasant shiver went down your spine at the hushed tone of his voice, with Yukimiya whispering to you like the way only a lover would. His eyes were warm but sharp, like a man waiting to pounce, looking for an opening that he could dig into.
Your breath hitches when he leans his head in, and your foreheads touch. Even though it was just a little bit of skin-to-skin contact, it feels electric. Your lips part habitually, and you want nothing more than for Yukimiya to lean in all the way and to capture you with a slow kiss.
You swallow, and your voice trembles just a hint. “You. I want you, Kenyu.”
“Yeah? Is it me you want?” He chuckles darkly, and he lifts a hand to brush his thumb over your cheek. Without another word, his lips are on top of yours, and you melt fully under his touch. He holds you close, and he kisses you with his whole heart, matching your desire for him with affection of his own. Your chest is pressed up against his, and his heartbeat matches up to yours, beating in conjunction and intertwining with you. 
Your head spins, dizzy and intoxicated off of the kiss, but you don’t want to ever pull away. You’re sure Yukimiya feels the same with how greedily his mouth moves against yours.
Yukimiya wouldn’t trade you for the world. Not when he can have you perfectly, lovingly, and wantonly as he does. 
ITOSHI SAE!
a kiss pressed to the neck!
Sae still sometimes has yet to learn to appreciate the finer things in life. He’s only ever known soccer his entire life, and that’s cost him many valuable things. Now that’s a little bit older, had a little bit more time to reflect, a little bit more regretful than he once was, Sae’s teaching himself how to properly cherish the things and the people he holds close. He’s eternally grateful that you’ve stayed with him through thick and thin, and even though he’s not the best at expressing his emotions verbally, it’s through the small gestures that he shows his true heart. It can be anything from making sure he eats his meals with you when his schedule allows it all the way to asking you to wear his jersey when you come to support him at his games. But his favorite has to be sneaking kisses onto your body, his lips molding themselves to the gentle curves of your neck and shoulders, his soft touch electrifying with all the untold promises of his love towards you.
“Don’t you have practice today?” Your voice reminds Sae of the wind chimes he’d pass by during his time in Spain. Your grumpy boyfriend slides his arms around your waist and leans on your shoulder, and you scoot over on the couch to make room for him. Despite him acting like a high and mighty better-than-thou prodigy on the field, you know him better for his clingy and insatiable behavior once the two of you are in private.
He pouts slightly, only loosening his expression up when he can feel your fingers combing through his unkempt red hair. He blinks slowly as if he were a cat, and his piercing teal eyes trace over your silhouette before landing on your eyes. “It got canceled. Some maintenance issues. Nothing any of us need to worry about.”
Sae can feel you grin and shift to adjust to his presence as you make yourself comfortable again, your attention torn between the TV show you had been watching and him appearing out of nowhere. Truth be told, he wants to monopolize your attention quite a bit, more than what you’re giving him right now. But he’d rather eat mud than admit it out loud, so when you go back to immersing yourself in whatever reality TV drama you’re engrossed in, Sae begins upping his antics bit by bit.
At first, it’s just him holding your hand and maybe rubbing his thumb over the back of your knuckles. But then it turns to him burying his face into the crook of your neck, huffing slightly when you don’t turn to face him. It looks like being subtle won’t do the trick for him anymore, and only then does Sae look for an exposed patch of skin on your neck before leaning in. His breath fans out against your body before he parts his lips, and he presses his mouth against your neck. His sharp teeth ghost over what feels like your pulse, and you gasp, immediately sitting up straight and turning directly towards him.
“Sae!” Your eyes are blown open wide, and only then does Sae allow himself a coy smile. “What’s gotten into you?”
There we go. Much better. He’s far more happy now that your undivided attention is on him. 
MICHAEL KAISER!
smirking in a way that suggests more!
It’s downright unfair that Kaiser gets to walk around looking like that. The common phrase ‘God must have favorites’ feels true when it comes to him. Not only does he have a blooming career as a professional athlete, he’s also immensely popular and handsome to boot. And the cherry on top has to be the fact that he knows all of this. Kaiser is more than aware of how much of a coveted man he is, and now that you’ve stolen away his heart, he’s going to use every weapon in his arsenal to try and charm you. There’s nothing he wants to see more than to get you flustered and at his mercy: a perfectly smitten darling for him to pamper and to be spoiled by to his selfish heart’s content. He doesn’t care if it involves embarrassing you or coming across as desperate; the moment Kaiser sets his sights on something or someone, he’s doing whatever it takes until he emerges victorious.
You wish Kaiser had been born with a little more shame in his body. For the most part, you’ve gotten used to your boyfriend’s flamboyant and standoffish behavior when his soccer skills were involved (it wasn’t like you wanted to get in between his spats against other professional players either), but when it came to his shameless flirting with you, there were times when all you wanted was for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You find yourself wondering why exactly you were even attracted to such a man to begin with, but Kaiser is more than happy to remind you of his charms all over again.
“Darling,” he coos lovingly. He only ever uses that seductive tone of voice when he wants your attention, which is more or less all the time whenever you’re on his mind. A tattooed arm slinks around your waist and pulls you closer to him, and he presses a flurry of kisses to your face. “I’m feeling peckish. Entertain me.”
“What am I, your personal jester?” You grumble, shaking your head. “Don’t you have clips to analyze? Or you can always go to the gym for a bit, if you really have nothing to do-”
“-No, no, I’m not feeling that kind of peckish.” His hands wander to your stomach, sliding down and toying with the hem of your shirt. The remainder of your words die on the tip of your tongue as realization flits across your mind, and heat instantly flares up in your cheeks. You squirm in his grasp, managing to turn yourself around to face him. You’re determined to scold him when he intercepts you by pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, the boy sighing happily when he can feel your soft mouth against his.
He pulls away and whispers just so that you can hear, “It’s a kind of boredom only you can take care of. Won’t you be good and take care of me, darling?”
Your mouth is dry as his eyelids lower slightly, and he bats his eyelashes at you tantalizingly. His striking blue eyes are alluring as always, inviting you to close the gap in between the two of you and to give yourself to him for the time being. You hate how downright sultry his eyes are at times, but you hate how helpless you are against him even more.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Kaiser promises, leaning in so that his face is just a mere breath away from yours. “How does that sound?”
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lovingmattysposts · 4 months
Text
My Best Friend's Brother
Part 3
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P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12
pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo
Summary: you just moved into the sturniolo’s home after some family issues and you’re starting to become attracted to your best friend’s brother and you hated yourself for it. But how could you resist?
warnings: anxiety, veryyy suggestive parts, small little woohoo at the end, mention of a toxic household, cursing, no strong smut yet
Here yall go, it's been in the works sorry it's a day late love y'all. Tell me what you think, xoxo Autumn
chris pov
The next few days were hard. She was everywhere I turned. I couldn't escape her. Granted, she did now live in my house. But she was everywhere. Every corner I turned. Every hallway I walked down. Every time I walked into Matt's room, Nick and y/n would be in there watching something. I never looked at her for more than a glance. Seeing Matt eye me every single time we were together was enough to push whatever I was feeling down.
I felt bad, seeing the hurt look on her face whenever I didn't look at her. I couldn't she had to understand that I couldn't.
Now I was laying in bed, staring out my window, watching cars go by now and then. Thinking about her. What she was doing. What she was thinking about. If she was okay. I blinked, rubbing my eyes. It was freezing in here. I needed a sweatshirt. I stood up walking over to my drawers, searching through them. I groaned as I shifted through them, searching for a specific sweatshirt. It was nowhere to be found.
I turned and walked out of my room and down the stairs towards the laundry room. I flipped on the light and smiled when I saw a basket of laundry sitting on top of the dryer. I walked over shifting through it, searching for that damn grey sweatshirt. I moved a shirt out of the way, when my eyes caught something.
My curiousity took the better of me when I picked up the article of clothing. It was underwear, y/n's underwear. My eyes trailed over the piece of material. The lack of material. They were lace. I let out a breath closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. This can't be happening. I opened one eye looking at them, running my thumb over the top of the lace. The lace that was once against her skin.
A very sensitive area of her skin. I swallowed, feeling my pants tighten as imagines ran through my head. I wouldn't expect someone like her to wear something like this. I wonder why she had it? I wonder if she bought it for someone or just for herself. Who would she have bought it for? She's never even had a boyfriend to my knowledge. I blinked at it, like deer in headlights.
"Chris?"
I jumped dropping them and clearing my throat, turning around to look at them. Y/n stood there with her eye wide, due to my reaction of her presence, then chuckling a little. "Are you okay?" She asked smiling. I looked down and turned quickly, hiding the down tent in my pants. I cleared my throat again, running my hand through my hair.
"Yeah Yeah-" I coughed looking around more in the basket, before finally seeing my hoodie. I picked it up quickly and turned around holding it up. "Just needed my sweatshirt" I said smiling quickly and sprinting past her before she could respond.
I quickly walked into my room, shutting the door and leaning against it. I let out a breath and looked down at the damage. I groaned and attempted to fix my shorts. This was getting bad, really bad.
y/n pov
It's been a few days since Chris and I texted. There's been no texts since, not from me or from him. I have been checking my phone every time it buzzed. I'm not proud of it, I'm just honest. I wish I could deny my developing crush on Chris, but now I couldn't. Every time he turned the corner, my heart would drop and I would stare at my shoes. I hated that I felt his way. So I've been avoiding him, I have. It's just hard because we live with each other.
It's almost like Chris had subconsciously knew about it too, even though I showed it in absolutely no way, because every time I saw him, he ignored me. Hard. Like as if I didn't exist at all. This morning when I walked directly past him, looking at him just to see if he would look back at me, but he just stared straight forward until we passed.
Then I was in Nick's room and he walked in, looked at me, and the turned to Nick and said "never mind" before turning and walking out. It was starting to hurt my feelings.
I sighed as I rolled over on Nick's bed. "I'll be right back. I have some laundry to fold" I said looking at him. He nodded. "Will you get me a Pepsi while you're down there?" He asked and i nodded standing and walking down the steps. I heard some shuffling downstairs and I furrowed my eyebrows when I saw Chris standing in the laundry room, looking down at something.
I walked slowly closer to him in attempt to see what he was doing, and also in attempt to not freak him out and run him off.
"Chris?" I asked softly once I was closer to him. He jumped as if he had seen a ghost quickly turning around face me. His cheeks were a light pink and his eyes were wide, as if he were caught doing something embarssing. I attempted to hold in my laugh due to his reaction, it was kind of cute.
"Are you okay?" I asked smiling at him. I'd never seen him so flustered before, it made me less scared of him. He turned around and mumbling a few quick 'yeahs'. I furrowed my eyebrows as he shifted through the clothing again, this time much faster before pulling out a sweatshirt of his.
"Just need my sweatshirt" He mumbled quickly not making eyecontact and running past me quickly. I just turned and watched him run back up the steps.
What the hell was that?
I shook my head smiling walking over to the basket of clothing before I froze. A pair of my lace panties were sitting on top of the other clothing. My face burned red as embarssement flooded over me. I grabbed them, turning around to the now empty stairs. I put my hand over my mouth. "Oh my god" I mumbled beneath my own hand.
Chris he-. I closed my eyes shaking my head. I looked down at them, letting out a breath. If I wasn't terrified to see him before, now I was never speaking to him ever again. I threw the underwear down and grabbing the basket before walking back up the stairs.
I walked into Nick's room silently, but my mind would not stop screaming at me. Nick looked up at me. "Where's my Pepsi?" He asked looking at me. I looked down at the clothes and then back to him, clearing my throat. "I-I forgot it" I said not looking up at him, walking over to his bed and starting to fold t-shirts out of the basket.
"You don't have to do your own laundry y/n/n. My mom said she would do it for you. She does Chris's religiously" Nick said making my breath hitch. Nick looked up at me. "What is up with you lately?" He asked setting his phone down. I looked up at him. "Hm?" I asked trying to look least suspicious as possible. He narrowed his eyes.
"Is it Chris?" He asked looking at me. My heart dropped to my toes. I cleared my throat. "What?" My voice hitched as i spoke. He sighed sitting up. "Is he bothering you? I told him to lay off but I will actually beat his ass if he's giving you a hard time" He said raising his eyebrows. I shook my head quickly.
"Nick he's not I swear" I breathed honestly. My eyes glanced over to the underwear again.
I wonder what he thought when he saw them. Did he picture me wearing them? Why was he looking at them for so long? Was he turned on? Oh my god what if he was turned on? What if he wasn't. What if-
"Y/n" Nick stated making me drop the shirt in my lap. "What?" I asked. He chuckled. "I lost you there for a second" He said picking his phone back up. I let out another breath. I need to stop. Stop thinking about Chris. Stop thinking about him like a school girl. Stop thinking about the fact that he saw what I wear underneath my clothing. Stop wondering whether or not he imagined me in them.
I was going through enough shit, I did not need Christopher Sturniolo to make my mind more of a mess than it already was.
-
"It's getting too cold out here" Nick stated as we walked along the sidewalk towards the swings in Lincoln Park. I let out a shaky breath, seeing it out in front of me in a cold vapor.
I've been acting weird and Nick's noticing. How could he not? I was acting weird. My mind was a never ending loop of worrying. Worried about my mom, where she was, what she was doing. If she missed me at all. Or if she just missed him and that's where her sadness ended. It was exausting. Being me. Having my brain. I wish I didn't care about what happened to me. What people did to me. How they treated me.
The problem was that people thought that was exactly how I felt, because I stopped showing reaction on the outside. I kept it all inside until it ate me alive. The only person I couldn't hide it from was Nick. He knew when I was upset, wasn't feeling well, when I was worrying. Just most of the time he didn't say anything, knowing that I would evenutally come to him on my own, and was right. I usually always did.
I needed to tell Nick what happened. I can't leave him in the dark when he's taken me under his wing and showed me more love than my own parents. It wasn't fair to him to give and give and me take and take.
"Yeah" I agreed with him as we reached the swings. I grabbed ahold of the chain and ran my hand down it, glancing up at him. He bent down, sighing as he sat down on the swing. I matched his motion and sat on the swing next to him.
I swallowed, feeling my hands start to shake. I was nervous. I didn't want him to think of me differently. In the back of my mind I knew he wouldn't, but my mind always screamed at me the underlying fear of being rejected.
I looked down at my feet as I moved back and forth on the swing. I turned around, seeing Matt and Chris standing by the pond a little ways away, throwing some rocks across the top of the water. I looked over at Nick who was looking at me . I gave a small smile.
"Say it" He said looking at me. I swallowed looking down at my lap. I didn't tell him that I had something to tell him, but he knew. I nodded looking down, I could do this. I am strong. I lived through this. This is my story.
"I want to tell you about what happened that night. Why he left" I explained looking over at him. He just stayed looking at me. I closed my eyes. The pit in my stomach. I can't. I swung my feet slightly. I opened my mouth the speak, but I couldn't. No words came out. My stomach cramped as I felt nerves run down my arms. I rubbed the goosebumps, trying to make them go away.
"Nick, you're my best friend" I whispered. He didn't say anything, didn't intrupt me as I spoke. I shook my head. "I just-" I stopped trying to find the words. I glanced in front of me. He reached over grabbing my hand.
"Y/n, It's okay if you're not ready to tell me anything. You don't owe me anything" He shook his head. I swallowed shaking my head. "No, I do" I stated starting to get angry at myself. Why couldn't I share this with him? I've never not been able to share something out loud with him before. The one person I trusted. I shook my head at myself.
"Y/n, you haven't even cried yet. I don't expect you to be ready to share what happened" He breathed shaking his head. I hung my head in defeat. Angry at myself. Angry at my mind. Angry at my voice for not being able to fucking speak.
"Nick, I love you" I just whispered quietly. He put his hand on my leg, soothingly. "There isn't anything you could do to make me go away" He smiled, making a smile come on my face. I nodded slowly as I heard footsteps behind us.
"Chris hit a duck" I heard Matt say, making Nick and I turn and look at them. "The duck was in the way" Chris shrugged. Matt shook his head looking at his brother and then back at us. His eyebrows furrowed. "Everything okay?" Matt asked looking down at me. I glanced over at Chris who's eyes were focused on me. I looked away quickly, before nodding.
"Okay" Matt nodded back. "I don't get why you guys like to come here, It's kind of depressing" Chris breathed looking around us, to the empty park. His cheeks were red from the cold air surrounding us, and the beanie was placed perfectly on his head, his brown hair showing beneath it. I smiled to myself, before looking around.
"It's perfect" I said back looking at Nick. He smiled at me and nodded.
"I gotta take a piss" Matt announced making chuckle. Chris looked over at him shaking his head. "What?" He asked shrugging. "Me too, I'll go with you" Nick said standing up from the swing. I just looked at him as him and Matt walked over towards the bathroom.
I glanced up, seeing Chris looking at me. I felt my cheeks burn red and I turned, facing back in front of me and looking down at my lap, swaying lightly on the swing. I heard the crunching of gravel before I saw him sit next to me. My heart was beating out of my chest as I heard him let out a breath.
"How are you?" Chris asked with a husky voice. I didn't look up at him. "Fine" I breathed. He nodded starting to swing a little. "Have you had another episode?" He asked quietly. I felt my stomach turn. "No" I stated quickly. He nodded slowly.
Why was this awkward? Does he know I know what he was doing? Oh god, what if that's what he's thinking about. I lifted my hands to my face trying to keep the temperture down.
I couldn't help but let a small laugh come from my lips. I covered my mouth as I looked away from Chris, trying to hide my laughing. "What?" He asked leaning over to me. I shook my head closing my eyes, biting my lip to stop my laughing. I couldn't help it, it was what I did when I felt awkward.
"What!" Chris smiled pushing me. I looked over at him shaking my head as I swang back at forth from his push, slightly bumping him. He grabbed the chain and his, holding out swings together. I looked at him, he stared at me.
"Why are you laughing?" He asked trying not to smile. I pursed my lips looking at my lap. I cleared my throat. I glanced up at him. "What were you doing in the laundry room Chris?" I asked looking at him. His face turned red and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smile. He pushed me away from him and shook his head.
I busted out laughing, stilling my swing with my feet. I heard him start to laugh to himself. "Wow I hate you" He said laughing. I shook my head. "No you don't. You just act like you do" I said rolling my eyes. He turned his eyes staying on me. He bit his bottom him and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah maybe" He breathed looking back over and glancing down to my lap and then looking away. I let out a breath letting a chill come over me as the wind blew. I shuttered shaking my head. He looked up.
"Fuck, It's cold" I stated, looking down at my feet. Chris blinked at me and then sighed. "If I give you my jacket, will you never mention the underwear thing ever again?" He asked makign me looked over at him, biting back a smile. I nodded. He sighed closing his eyes and shrugging off his jacket and standing off the swing. I just looked up at him as he stood in front of me.
His eyes looked down at me while I looked up at him through my eyelashes. "Stand" He said shaking his head from me just standing at him. "Right" I stated quickly standing. He threw the jacket before securing it over my shoulders. I slid my arms through it and hugged it to myself.
I sighed out of relief from the warmness of the jacket. Chris just looked at me, as I held the jacket close to myself. He reached up, pushing a piece of hair out of my face. I looked up at him, when his eyes met mine his hand froze and his eyes slightly widened, before retracting his hand.
"Sorry" He said stepping back. "I don't know why I just did that" He said shaking his head. I opened my mouth before shaking my head and stepping back. That's when I heard footsteps behind us.
"Hey you guys ready?" Nick asked coming up behind us. Chris stepped back from me and nodded looking down. I nodded looking at Nick, walking up to him.
Nick and I started towards the car as he started to describe the disgusting public park bathroom. I smiled as he spoke but was more focused on what Matt and Chris were saying behind me.
"Your jacket?" I heard Matt say quickly behind me. "She was cold" Chris said softly. I smiled looking down.
Fuck.
-
After we got home I couldn't sleep. My mind was my own worst enemy. I hated myself for it. If Nick knew what I was feeling towards his brother. He would never forgive me.
Nothings happened. I'll be fine. It's not like he has feelings for me, its a one-way horrible secret I keep talking to the wall about.
Maybe he wasn't as bad as I originally thought. He gave me his jackets. Bought me food. Helped me through my anxiety attack. He's perfect- no. Stop. He friendly. Wait since when. Chris sturniolo is not friendly. He's Christopher fucking Sturniolo.
The standoffish triplet. Not the kind one.
I sat up rubbing my eyes. Everyone went to sleep hours ago and here I was sitting up fantasizing about my best friends brother. God, I felt sick. I felt horrible.
I felt a buzz in my phone. I picked it up seeing the light illuminate the room. I squinted looking at it.
From: chris sturniolo
you awake?
My breath got caught in my throat. My heart started to beat faster. I glanced up at the time 2:08am. I looked up setting my phone down. Calm down y/n. Breathe. You got this, just respond. I looked back down before responding.
To: chris sturniolo
Sadly
I held my breath as I waited for a reponce knowing he was only in the room next door.
From: chris sturniolo
Matt and I are awake watching a movie in his room. He's pissing me off come in here
I smiled, before dropping it. No, friendly. Not flirty. Get over yourself. It's just Chris.
To: chris sturniolo
eh. Whats in it for me?
I tapped my fingers.
From: Chris Sturniolo
popcorn
I smiled and shook my head as I responded.
To: chris sturniolo
Fine. You've convinced me
I stood up before walking quickly out of my room and down the hall to Matt's room. I hovered for a second before knocking quietly and opening the door slightly. Matt and Chris looked up at me and glanced at Chris.
Matt scooted over before patting the seat next to him. Chris just looked at me as I walked over and sat next to Matt. "Why are you not asleep?" Matt asked looking down at me. I grabbed the blanket off of him and pulled it over myself.
"Couldn't" I said softly before looking at the screen in front of us. "Oh I love this movie" I sighed a How to lose a guy in 10 days started to play in front of us.
"Matt picked it" Chris said quietly. Matt glared over at him. "I've seen it all over tik tok I'm curious" Matt shrugged it off. I leaned back pulling the blankets over me as we watched the movie.
After about 30 minutes Chris spoke up again. "This is so stupid. I would have broken up with her as soon as she brought that damn plant out" Chris shook his head. I sat up.
"It's a symbol of their love Chris" I argued. He shook his head. "No it's a symbol of a crazy ass bitch" He chuckled. "I feel like that's something you would do" He pointed at me. I held my hand to my chest.
"That was uncalled for" I glared at him. He shrugged. "How to lose a guy in 10 days should have been starring you" he said looking back to the movie.
What the fuck
"Chris" Matt glared at him. I looked at Matt. Was he acting like this because Matt was here? I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned back. Dick.
"No like you could even get a girl to lose in the first place Chris" I mumbled angrily. He scoffed. "Oh really?" He sat up looking at me. I nodded.
"Yeah really" I said staring at him. He clenched his jaw. Matt pushed him back. "Alright you two. Stop" Matt said getting between us. I shook my head.
"Take a joke" Chris said after a few minutes. I sat up. "You take a joke dickhead!" I yelled back at him. He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes.
"Sounds like you've got something to say" He said crossing his arms. "Oh I've got a lot to say" I stated back. I'm not taking shit from Chris. He can't get to me. I'm not letting him win this.
"Then say it" he sat up glaring at me.
"Okay!" Matt said turning off the movie. "That's enough movie for one night. Both of you go to bed" he said throwing the remote on the bed. Chris and I stayed glaring at each other.
"Get out you angry fucks" Matt said taking Chris's blanket. Chris shook his head standing up off the bed and walking towards the door. I looked down at Matt.
"I'm sorry" I said quietly. He shook his head. "You're fine, I don't know what's gotten into him" Matt said as Chris slammed the door. I sighed looking down.
"I'll see you in the morning?" I said standing off the bed. He nodded as he picked up his phone and I walked out of the room.
I felt bad for screaming at Chris in front of Matt. I didn't want him to think I was like that. I'm not like that, it's just Chris. Ugh. He drives me crazy. One minute he's giving me he's jacket the next he's literally calling me crazy. It's not fair. What was he doing?
I turned as I closed the door to Matt's room and I saw Chris walking down the hallway. I let out a breath.
"Hey" I stated loudly, making him turn around and look up from his phone. I marched angrily up to him.
"What the fuck was that?" I spat looking up at him. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why text me to even come in there if you were just going to shit on me the whole time" I said crossing my arms.
"I wasn't shitting on you y/n. It was a joke" he stated looking down at me. I bit my lip looking up at him trying to figure him out. He just stared down at me. I sighed letting my hands fall to my sides.
"It wasn't funny" I said softly. He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd get so defensive about me joking about your dating life" he said shrugging. I shook my head.
"To be fair you shitted on mine too" he said making me look up at him. "Only because you shitted on mine" I argued. He smirked down at me. "Would you stop looking at me like that!" I said pushing his shoulder, making him laugh. He reached up pushing his hair back, I just watched him.
"You're funny" he stated. I looked to the side to hide my smile as I shook my head. I looked back and he was still looking down at me. We just looked at each other silence filling the hallway. My heart started beating. Shit. Why did I have such a physical reaction to him? I hated myself for it.
"I didn't mean it" I whispered afraid to break the silence. I took his bottom lip in between his teeth as he looked at me. "I know you didn't" he whispered back. My mouth parted slightly as I stared up at him. He stepped towards me slightly. I didn't move. I stayed frozen as he came closer as if my feet were cemented to the ground.
"Because you say I can't get a girl, but every time you look at me you're cheeks turn red" he whispered looking directly into my eyes. I felt my face burn. All confidence releasing from my body. I just blinked at him. He bit the inside of his cheek and raised his eyebrows.
He reached up swiping his thumb over my cheek and goosebumps filled my body. "Why do they do that huh?" He said looking from my eyes to my lips. I could barley hear him my heart beating too loud I could barley hear. I swallowed. The tension was too thick, I had to get out of this. But the hallway was small and I could only see him and his pink lips from when he was biting them.
Before I could even think about what I was doing I leaned up crashing my lips to his, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. He didn't hesitate for a second but kissed me back hungrily. His hands fell to my waist before pushing me up against the wall and pressing himself against me as our lips covered each others.
My hands went up to his hair, pulling on the brown strands lightly, making him hum against my lips. I sighed as I kissed him. Almost as if I was breathing for the first time, like an elephant was lifted off my chest.
Because kissing him, made everything bad that's ever happened in my life disappear from my mind. Like as if everything was good, the world was good, my life was perfect all because his teeth bit slowly down on my bottom lip. I groaned in his mouth. I felt him smile against me and push his tongue into my mouth.
There was no need to fight for dominance because there wasn't a way in hell I was winning, not with the way he was kissing me. He pressed into me as I felt his hard on against my stomach. Oh my god.
He gripped my hips harshly and needy. I felt him push the shirt i was wearing up slightly, his thumb moving over my bare skin. His calloused fingers cold. That's when I heard a door open.
"What the fuck?"
sorry had to do a cliffhanger don't hate me, but who caught them? :)
Also! sorry this one was short, part two of FWB is coming tonight
368 notes · View notes
elliespillowprincess · 2 months
Text
SHES MY DRUG
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pt 1
pt 2
pt 3
a/n: this is my first ever (kinda) fic so it kinda sucks and is all over the place.. also this one will be a bit longer than the others! i hope to just make this an ongoing series with no real end? idk yet!!! it’s kinda all over the place
c/w: TIME SKIP??, modern au, reader is in med school, biker!ellie!!, rich!ellie… kinda toxic!ellie? angst, addiction, substance abuse, joel’s death makes an appearance, fluff, fem reader, plus size reader, insecure reader, race of reader not specified, smut, strap-on usage (r!receiving), cum eating, spit?, tribbing, fingering (r!receiving), breeding kink, TERRIBLY WRITTEN, not proofread
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ELLIE WILLIAMS
her name is everywhere now. after leaving your town, her music had blown up more than ever before. 2 years had gone by since the two of you shared your last kiss, and for the first few months the two of you texted constantly.
ellie🤭: how’s my pretty girl?
ellie🤭: hoping to come back soon
tours been getting crazy
ellie🤭:
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missing you
it felt like a dream, texting one of the worlds biggest rockstars while she was on tour, her sending photos of her adventures. but all dreams end in you waking up.
you: hey wyd?
you: hoping you’re coming back soon
you: hey ellie?
we haven’t talked in a bit
i miss you.
the dream ended. just like that, you were just another girl. after waiting for replies, you decided to move on. this fantasy wasn’t real, the dream was over. ellie was now famous for hooking up with her fans, videos popping up constantly of her leading them out of her concert and onto her bike, just like she did to you.
you were just another girl.
you graduated university as the top scholar in your small town, liliana just behind you. both of you applied to a med school in new york, both getting accepted. your best friend kept telling you you’ll forget her, but how could you? she was everywhere.
eventually, there were some days you could go by without thinking of her. you decided to quit drinking and smoking, and focus on schooling. you got your pleasure elsewhere; hooking up with whatever girl swiped right on you on tinder that day. they always looked a little like her. if they didn’t have that auburn hair, they had tattoos, if they didn’t have tattoos, they were a musician, etc.
“hey, y/n?” you hear a familiar voice say. “wanna go out tonight? i feel like we haven’t gotten to hangout in ages. you don’t have to drink or anything, promise!” liliana practically begs you. it was true, the two of you hardly had any time outside of schooling to hangout, so hesitantly, you agree. she tells you all about this new club that opened, how its invite only so there won’t be too many people, and how there’s surprise private performers. she got the invite from her boyfriend, and was allowed to bring one extra person: you. you decide to use the rest of your day off prior to your later plans to take an everything shower, shaving and exfoliating your whole body. when you get out, you go to your closet to pick out something to wear, still in your towel. your new wardrobe consisted of mainly business casual clothes and scrubs for lab days, so you push them away and dig through the back of your closet. you go through the pile of clothing, until you hit something hard. you grab it, pulling it into the light. when you realize what it was, you feel lightheaded.
it’s her helmet.
tossing it to the back with a pit in your stomach, you grab three random items of clothing, shutting the door. it was exactly what you wore when you first met her: a lacy cami, short black skirt, and a leather jacket. you threw the outfit on, hoping to cover up the old memories with new ones. after you touched up your makeup, you, andrew, and liliana started pregaming. you didn’t want to overdo it, but you also wanted a small buzz for this intimidating of a club. your plan was to leave around 9, it was 8:47. “i’m actually excited, i haven’t been this excited for an event in a while!” you say to the group, feeling a buzz. the three of you are laughing and talking until you get a notification, indicating the uber was there. driving to the club, the driver put on the radio. of course, it had to be her.
the loud music and sweaty atmosphere of the club made you feel dizzy. the only thing keeping you from running away was a tall girl eyeing you across the room. she had short, dark hair, freckles, and a sour face as she looked at you like prey: your type. after a while, you notice she comes up to you, asking if you want anything to drink. agreeing, you thank her and start talking. “where y’from angel?” she asks. “nowhere near here, i used to live in a small town, goldwhit grove?” she looks at you like you’re crazy, rolling her eyes. “never heard of it. hey wanna get outta here?” you look over to your friends, liliana dancing against andrew, and remember how mad she was last time you ran off with a girl without telling her. “i don’t know i’m here with my frie-“ your sentence was interrupted but the screams of the drunken club goers around you as they all flock to the front. looking over to the stage, you see who they’re going crazy over. and of course,
it’s her.
she was everywhere, it was like you couldn’t escape and forget her no matter how hard you tried. she’s stumbling all over the stage, and slurring her words. bras were being thrown at her, and she just had this stupid look on her face. like she was loving it. she was looking around the crowd, for what you assumed to be a girl to take back to her hotel, she made eye contact with you. it felt like the whole room went quiet, even though it was far from it. you wanted to scream, call her an ass, throw drinks at her. but found another solution. turning to the girl next to you, you began rubbing against her, feeling her biceps as she wrapped her arms around you, kissing your neck. you did all of this while making eye contact with her.
“i.. i um… sorry guys.. can’t-can’t perform t’night.” she says, rushing offstage. this makes you smile, knowing you got under her skin. you continued to dance against the stranger to whatever shitty music the club put on between performers. then, it felt like the world went back into focus, your phone buzzing in your hand waking you up. “hey hold on, gotta take this.” you say, lightly pushing the girl off of you and pulling out your phone.
???: what the fuck is wrong with you
who is that???
answer me y/n i’m not fucking around
the unfamiliar messages creeped you out, so you simply blocked the number and went back to the girl, making small conversation. then, another one.
???: don’t block me
can we talk??
come to the bathrooms
rolling your eyes, you type a response.
you: idk who you are but leave me alone
it’s weird
are u stalking me??
another.
???: please
abiding by this stranger could put you in a life or death situation, but all of the adrenaline from seeing ellie and the alcohol made you lose your senses. “hey, i’ll be right back. gotta use the bathroom.” you tell the stranger, making your way through the crowds into the shitty club bathrooms. as you approach it, it seems oddly quiet for a club bathroom. you walk in, and instantly feel a hand grab your wrist, pulling you in and locking the door. “hey what the fu-“
then you see who it is.
confusion turns to shock, shock turns to anger.
“what the fuck ellie? you really think you can just ditch me for 2 fucking years and just be like ‘surprise! i’m back!’” you yell at her, pushing her away. “i’m not playing your fucking games, i feel dumb for even thinking we had something! had me waiting months for you to reply just for you to get with any groupie you come across?” she’s not saying anything, and it only makes your blood boil even more. “are you just gonna fucking sit there? i’m trying to have a good night! i caught fucking feelings for you, you made me feel like i was worth actually fucking loving, and you just threw it all away!” she just sits there, letting you yell. “fucking say something!” your voice becoming weaker, trying not to cry. looking into her eyes, you can tell she’s on something. they’re red and blown out, she reeks of alcohol and weed.
“you’re wearing the outfit.” she says flatly, looking at your outfit. you laugh, actually laugh at her. the fact you just spilt your heart out and all she can do it’s compliment your physical traits. “oh.. oh my god. you- you got problems ellie.” you say with a huff, pushing her away and heading for the door. “i’m leaving, and i’m gonna go back to a girl that maybe actually gives two fucks about me, unlike you.” reaching for the handle, you feel her grab your waist and pull you to her back. “please, don’t go.” you sigh against her, starting to tear up. “let-lemme go ellie..” you barely try to fight her grip. she doesn’t do anything, just breathes you in. “don’t… don’t go, please.” she says softy against your neck, her voice cracking. it feels like you’re melting.
turning around, you look directly at her. “i want an explanation.” you say, wiping tears from your eyes. “you told me you’d come back, you told me you missed me. where did that all go?” you look at her with doe, tear-filled eyes. she just wraps her hands around your face and admires you. “it.. didn’t go anywhere. jus’ a lot happened okay? i just need you to believe me.” your faces are mere inches away, and she’s staring at you with pleading eyes. “how can i believe you ellie? you’re not even sober.” she just wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in and hugging you.
then you start to hear crying- no, sobbing. she sobs into your shoulder, trying to speak but unable to get words out. she casts her spell on you once again, drawing you in and making you hug her back. “just… just tell me what happened okay?” she’s barely breathing, and you rub her back in an attempt to calm her down. “he- he died!! he fucking died!” she says between cries. “who? who died ellie?” you say softy into her ear. “joel! he- he took care of me i- i- was so mean to him!” she cries against you. “hey, hey it’s okay ellie, just breathe.” after a few minutes of her crying, she starts to breathe slower, eventually pulling back and wiping your face. “can.. can we go somewhere else please?”
it was like déjà vu, being back on ellie’s bike. you had her other helmet at your apartment, so she gave you hers instead. you were honestly scared, she looked intoxicated, but she assured you she was fine to drive. speeding through the streets of new york, you arrive at ellie’s penthouse, of course. the walk into the building in the ride up the elevator is quiet, the only noise coming from ellie sniffling.
unlocking the door on the top floor, she lets you in. the place was trash. liquor bottles, pill bottles, baggies with unknown substances, different girls clothes. you were a little disgusted, but ellie ushered you to her room, which was much cleaner in contrast. you hesitate to sit down, thinking about how many girls fucked her on that bed. “no girls have been in my bed, promise.” you hear her voice say, sitting down.
the two of you just sit there, waiting for the other to speak. she finally gets the nerves to, and starts off. “i just wanna say i’m sorry, y/n. you didn’t deserve any of this.” she looks over at you with hooded eyes and continues. “when he… died, i didn’t know what to do- it was when i was in london.” that was around the time she stopped texting. “i just.. turned to a lot of stuff for comfort. i didn’t know what to do- i know it’s not an excuse..” she stares at you, waiting for a response. “thought about you every fucking day. honestly.” your heart starts to melt. “i don’t expect you to forgive me, but let me make it up to you okay?” you nod silently. this doesn’t feel real. “please say something..” she begs. your eyes meet hers and you just word dump everything that’s been clouding your mind for the past two years.
“look, ellie, i understand where you’re coming from. i just.. i need you to know how much it hurt me, seeing you get with all those other girls, it made me feel ugly. inside and out.” her gaze softens and she unexpectedly pulls you in for a hug. “fuck. i’m so fucking sorry, y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever fucking seen.” she says, her head buried into your shoulder. “everytime i was with any of those girls, i thought about you. anytime i was anywhere doing anything, i thought about you.” her words contrast her actions, but her soft words and tears make you start to believe her.
you hug her back, the two of you laying down in her bed. it all feels so wrong, but so right, she was like an addiction; she was horrible for you but you just kept going back. she softly rubbed your hair, causing your eyes to feel heavier and heavier until you fall asleep in her arms.
fuck.
you wake up, and the first thing you see is ellie. she’s awake already. she smiles at you, a genuine smile. you on the other hand, look horrified. “goodmorning.” she says, pushing your hair out of your face. “how’d you sleep?” you’re lost for words at this point. you start to remember why you don’t drink anymore. “i.. um.. i gotta use the bathroom.” you mutter before getting up, grabbing your phone from her bedside table, and locking yourself in the bathroom. you open your phone.
lili🦄: wya?
you slipped off again
where’d u go?
hello?
dude don’t do this again
ur freaking me out.
is that u that i just saw leave?
i’m following u
who is that?
where are you going??
dude answer hello??
you reply with a spew of apologies, telling her you’re safe and you’ll be home soon. “y/n?” you hear ellie shout from another room. “i made breakfast!” what the fuck? it was like she was a different person, like nothing that happened in the past actually happened and the two of you were a happy couple. you unlock the bathroom door, creeping into the living room. your jaw dropped, it was spotless.
“wow! you uh.. really cleaned up the space?” she smiles at you, plating what looks like eggs, bacon, and toast. “couldn’t sleep. i know you usually wake up early so i slipped out of bed last night and made it back before you woke up.” she waves you over to the table. “come, eat.” you tiptoe to the table, still in your clothes from the club the night prior. sitting down, ellie sets your plate down, along with some water before sitting herself down across from her. it’s quiet, uncomfortable. she decides to break the silence before you start eating. “i’m done with the pills, y/n.” she says bluntly. it kind of takes you by surprise, not the fact that she’s doing it, but the fact she announced it so bluntly. “gonna better myself. better myself for you, us.” she says. her words almost feel like knives to your heart, why was she changing all of this now? “i know it’s late, but i want to be better.” you put a piece of bacon in your mouth, swallowing before speaking. “i’m glad, ellie.” you say softly. the meal remains quiet, but its shifts from an uncomfortable to a comfortable silence.
“hey, i have to go home, can you text me please? for real this time.” you say half heartedly. she puts your dishes away in the sink, nodding. “i’ll take you home, don’t want you in those ubers, they’re not safe.”
the next few months consisted of you texting ellie, again. but this time, she came back very often. as soon as a show ended, she’d be on the next flight to new york to see you.
ellie🧸: boarding the plane rn
can’t wait to see u :)
both of your schedules were tight, but you still worked in time to see each other. ellie often cancelled entire shows just to see you, losing all that money. but she didn’t care, she just wanted you to be happy.
you: i miss youuuu
when r u coming back?
ellie🧸:
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rn tbh
it felt like a dream once again, but this time, you had a feeling she wasn’t gonna let go. you hoped she wouldn’t. the two of you hung out constantly, going to her shows and being in the first row, her singing directly to you. going on walks at times square, ellie wearing a mask to hide her face of course. and sleepovers at each others apartments. liliana kept telling you to be careful, to not get hurt again.
not only were you guys talking again, but she was making it very apparent to her fans. saying things like “this one’s for my girl, she’s watching at home. see you soon, sweetheart” before playing love songs. even though you guys weren’t official- you haven’t even kissed since your last one almost 3 years ago- she sure acted like it. she was almost always sober, only ever smoking weed or having small amounts of alcohol before performing to lighten her nerves: never with you.
you were going over your neuro notes in your room, when ellie calls you, and you pick up.
you: “hey! what’s up?”
ellie: “i just got off the plane, gonna pick you up in 30 kay? wear something nice pretty girl, we’re going out.”
you: “what? where?”
ellie: “just be ready, kay? mwah i gotta go!”
the call ends and you laugh at how dumb ellie was, making kissing sounds. you quickly get up to find something to wear and throw on some makeup. you didn’t know how fancy you had to be, so you stuck with a tight black dress, black heels, and the necklace made out of pure gold ellie bought for you a couple weeks ago.
ellie🧸: come outside
her text makes your heart skip a beat, and you go out to see ellie standing next to a car. from your knowledge, she didn’t own any cars; just bikes. she was wearing a fucking suit: white button up that she of course didn’t button up all the way, black pants and jacket, and her dumb converse that completely contrasted the outfit. she smiled when she saw you. “ellie? what’s this?” you laugh, going up to hug her and smell her cologne. “y’like it? had it delivered earlier today before i got home for tonight!” she says with a coy smile. you let out a breathy laugh at the fact she can just buy such an expensive car for no good reason.
“it’s gorgeous, ellie.” you smile at her and she pushes herself off the car, turning around to open the passenger side. crawling in, you admire the inside. it was all black, with silver accents and a large carplay module. the passenger side had some photos of the two of you, and your name was engraved into the dashboard. it looked engraved by the fucking manufacturers.
she shuts your door, walking to the drivers seat, plopping inside. “whatcha think? paid a pretty penny for them to customize that.” she looks at you nervously, hoping you’ll like it. “oh ellie, you didn’t have to do this! you’re so sweet.” she smiles. “i’m glad you like it, babe.” she presses the button to turn the car on, and it unleashes a loud roar. as if she couldn’t get any hotter, the car was a manual, and she knew very well how to use one. the two of you leave the parking lot of your apartment complex, speeding through the buildings. you can help but stare at her, as you never got to see her face when she was on her motorcycle. she was focused; shifting gears strategically without stalling. you just stare at her face, her slightly unbuttoned shirt, her hands: your face becomes warm. “something wrong?” her voice snaps you out of it, noticing you’re staring.
“oh um- i’m fine! sorry..” you laugh quietly. “it’s okay to stare y’know? i stare at you all the time.” she says simply. god, she says everything with no fear. “where are we going?” you ask, curiously. “uhh i think it’s called masa’s sushi bar? heard it was really nice.” your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “WHAT??” you ask her, dumbfounded. “ellie that’s like $600 a person!! i can’t afford that right now i-“ “i got it, don’t worry ‘bout it kay?” she interrupts you. “ellie i don’t need to be taken out to nice places- id love to just sit in one of our apartments and watch cartoons.” you start feeling bad.
“you deserve it, let me take you out okay?” you put your head down, feeling terribly guilty. “hey, don’t feel bad okay? this is what i want to spend my money on.”
the two of you arrive at the restaurant, and before you can open your door, ellie screams “WAIT!” before jumping out her side and running to your door, opening it for you with a smile, reaching her hand out. you can’t help but laugh. “you’re such a nerd, ellie!”
the dinner consisted of the two of you laughing at each other, almost getting kicked out a few times for your loud behavior. “ellie! be quiet! that guy has come over a million times to tell you to be quiet!” you say in a loud whisper. when the check comes, you see the total and feel like vomiting. “$2,457?? ellie you’re crazy! i feel so bad let me give you someth-“ you try to pull your empty wallet out but she stops you, “i got it, don’t worry okay?” she tips the workers a large amount and gets up to grab your purse, and walk you out. walking to the car, she opens your door, handing you your purse before getting in herself.
“i have one more surprise, we’re going back to mine tonight.” she says while starting the car. “another? seriously ellie i dont want you spendi-“ “nuh uh, don’t wanna hear it. you deserve this okay?”
the ride home was fast, and filled with tension. you were nervous for what else ellie had in store for you. arriving at her penthouse, she lets you out and leads you to the elevator. you’re shifting nervously on your feet, and she notices. “what’s wrong?” she asks you, stepping a little closer. “i’m nervoussss! what is the surprise?” “gotta wait, sweetheart.”
arriving at her door, she opens it and holy shit. it was covered in flowers, slow music playing in the background. you followed the trail of flowers to the dining room table: the place the two of you spent countless meals together just basking in eachother presence. on the table, was a small white box. you lift it up, having no clue what could be inside. “open it, princess.” she says with a goofy, excited smile. you open the box, and oh my god. it was a gorgeous golden necklace, with an “E” attached to the chain. it wasn’t obnoxious, it was beautiful.
“ellie! what is this?! it’s so pretty!” you smile at her, hugging her. “do- do you like it?” “like it?? ellie i love it!!” you say into her shoulder. the two of you hug for a moment before she pulls you back, pulling a necklace out with your initial on it from under her shirt. everything feels electric, fuzzy, and warm. “let me help you put it on.” she says, gently grabbing the necklace out of the box. you turn around, lifting your hair, allowing her to clip the necklace around your neck. you turn around to look at her, and she adjusts it so it sits centered on your neck.
“you’re so pretty.” she just stares at you for a moment, admiring your features. she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them again before asking,
“can i be your girl?”
it felt like you were floating. her cologne was filling your nose, her eyes searching for an answer in yours.
“i know it’s a lot to ask- i just- i really like you y/n and-“
she’s cut off by you pressing your lips against hers, wrapping your hands in her hair. her eyes stayed open for a moment before the closed, kissing you deeper. she wrapped her arms around your waist, wanting to feel you closer. the two of you stayed there for a moment before you pulled away with tears brimming your eyes.
“yes, yes i’ll be your girl ellie!” you say, laughing deeply and throwing your head back as she places playful kisses along your jaw. “fuck yes, yes!!” she says, laughing with you. the two of you just stand in the dining room for a bit, gently kissing one another before you pull back, leading her to the bedroom.
you grab the collar of her shirt, pulling her ontop of you, kissing her deeply. the two of you spend about 15 minutes just enamored with one another’s mouth, when she notices you squirming, pulling back. “what’s wrong baby?” she asks, innocently. “s’hot ellie..” you say, mascara running and your cherry lipstick smudged. she smiles, dipping down to suck on your neck, leaving dark marks, running her tongue over them to soothe the pain. her lips travel down, meeting the top of your dress. “can i take this off for you?” you nod immediately. “gotta tell me with your words, princess.” you whimper at her request, obliging. “yes.. yes you can take it off els.”
“good girl.” she gently removes your dress, followed with your bra and underwear, leaving you naked under her. “so pretty, my gorgeous girl.” she coos. she begins kissing down your collarbone, and to your chest. she looks up at you as she practically makes out with your boobs, giving equal attention to both of them. she lifts her head, looking at you with lust filled eyes as she steps off the bed to undress, completely naked. you’re practically drooling, looking at her toned abs, perky tits, and the freckles that litter her body. she goes back up to kiss you, before asking, “are you still sure? “fuck- yes fuck els- just… please”
“okay, baby.”
the speaker in the living room begins playing Let the Light in by Lana Del Rey. she lifts your leg, allowing it to limply lay over her shoulder as she slowly lowers her cunt over yours. the sudden contact causes both of you to let out a breathy moan before she begins grinding against you. “so pretty, my pretty baby..” you can barely respond, the feeling of her cunt directly on yours making you dizzy. it feels so intimate, but so right.
“never.. never leaving your side again you understand?” she says between grunts. “you and me- fuck- forever baby.” she’s grabbing at you: your tits, your hips, kissing your face. the air in your lungs feels like it’s being sucked out. “els… please i- more..” you beg. her pace speeds up, her eyes locked on yours. “gonna… gonna take care of my girl ‘kay?” you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “els… m’gonna cum!!” you moan, grabbing at her arms. “me too- fuck- cum with me baby cmon give it to me.”
and that’s all it takes.
your orgasm rips through you, making your vision blur as hers follows right after, riding both of yours out. the room is filled with moans, squelching, and grunts as you both come down from your high. she collapses beside you, kissing you softly and cuddling you. she pulls away for a minute to just admire you. “y/n i.. i love you.” she says, smiling nervously. you can’t help but giggle as you pull her in closer, saying,
“i love you ellie williams.”
1 year later
you were getting ready for ellie’s private concert, wearing the same outfit you wore when she asked to be yours. it was your anniversary, and she was gonna take you out to a nice dinner followed by a surprise after the show was over. “baby? you ready?” you hear your girlfriend say, walking over to her to show her your outfit. “oh my goddd” she gawks over you. “look at my princess.” she says, grabbing your ass as she pulls you in for a messy kiss.
you two were late for her concert.
your heart was so full watching your girlfriend perform onstage. you were right up front, catching each others eye constantly. the sound of squealing girls around you threatened to drown out ellie’s singing. you look around, growing insecure at all the girls throwing themselves at ellie. she was smiling, enjoying the crowd and attention. girls were flashing her, holding up provocative signs. normally it didn’t get to you, but tonight it did.
finishing the concert, ellie’s bodyguards escort you to join her backstage. ellie notices your mood, and asks what’s wrong. “nothing ellie, jus wanna go home.” you reply blankly. “okay.. okay let’s go home yeah?”
arriving at her house, you walk to her bedroom, plopping yourself on her bed. she follows close behind after setting down her bag. “what’s on your mind, you seem sad?” she asks innocently. “the fact all those girls throw themselves at you! i mean, i don’t usually get so insecure, i know you love me jus…” you choke on your tears. “they’re so pretty, els. scared you’re gonna leave me for one of them y’know? i know im not the prettiest, i don’t have the best body-“ ellie cuts you off, jointing you on her bed. “hey, hey. don’t say that okay? you know i only have eyes for you.” she says softly, kissing your forehead. “you’re the most beautiful girl in this world, love. your body is beautiful.” she kisses all over your face, making you giggle.
it was like all your insecurities flew out the window. the two of you were laying on her bed, kissing each other softly. “m’sorry i ruined your surprise.” you say sadly. “hey, you didn’t ruin anything okay?” she reassures you. “what was the surprise?” her face turns a light shade of pink, stuttering. “we don’t have to- it’s was just if-“ you become more interested in what it was. “cmonnnnn just tell meee!” you say, the curiosity killing you. “are you sure? it’s not- if you’re not in the mood-“ “tell me ellie!” she sighs, grabbing your hand gently and placing it over her crotch. your eyes widen and you instantly feel wetness pool to your cunt.
she bought a strap on.
“we don’t have to, sweet thing. we can ju-“ her sentence is interrupted by you kissing her deeply, spit mixing with one another’s. she sat up so you could sit in her lap, her palming the fat of your ass. the two of you already removed all of your clothing besides underwear, the skin to skin contact making you dizzy. the make out session turned sloppier as minutes went by, and you became needier: grinding against her thigh. she noticed, and inquired you about it. “what’s wrong baby? needy for me?” you nod, almost forgetting ellie always wants you to use your words. “want.. want your cock, ellie.” you say, whimpering in her mouth.
“lay on your back, lemme do all the work.”
she helps you pull your underwear down your legs, followed by her boxers just after: causing the strap on to bounce out and fuck was it big. probably 7 inches, extremely thick and a dark shade of purple. you practically drool at the sight of your naked girlfriend in front of you, all strapped up. “gotta make sure you’re ready first, okay baby?” she tells you, gently pushing her fingers into your wet hole. “your so fuckn’ wet, baby. i do this?” you nod aggressively, making her add a second finger. “cmon, mama, gotta tell me with your words, how else will i know?” you loved when she was demanding, it usually only happened when she becomes really possessive.
“yes ellie- fuck! yes it you that made- made me this wet!” you say between moans. after a few minutes, she pulls her fingers out. “suck.” she demands. you oblige, taking her long digits in your mouth and sucking every last drop off. “y’ready? i’m gonna go slow okay?” she says whilst gently pushing the tip in. she goes slow, waiting for you to ask for more before she goes deeper. once she’s all the way in, she’s drooling at the sight of you swallowing the silicone. “can feel you squeezing my cock, baby. fuckkk look at her.” she presses your thighs to your stomach, ensuring she can get as deep as possible. then, it’s like the world is on fire.
she starts pounding into you animalisticlly, watching the ring of white forming at the base of her fake cock. she leans down to suck on your tits, sloppily making out with them as you scratch her back up with your long nails. this time, it isn’t slow or gentle. it’s hot and fast. needy. most of the time, she coos you through your orgasm, going slow and gentle. times like this, however, it’s like she has her mind set on one thing: making you finish. her words become more vulgar.
“fuckkkk look at that pretty pussy baby, she’s just taking all of me huh?”
“all. fucking. mine.” between thrusts.
“can see it poking through your stomach, sweetheart.”
“gonna fill you up, mama. carry my kids?”
the last line makes you moan loudly, as you didn’t know it was something you liked. she smiles, continuing her pace, out of breath. “yeah baby? you like that? want me to fill you to the fuuuuckin brim? dirty girl.” she makes out with you sloppily, drool dripping down your faces. “ellie.. ellie fuck i’m gonna cum!!”
little did you know: she was too.
the base of the strap had been rubbing perfectly against her clit, her pace speeding to make the two of you finish.
“fucking cum all over me- fuck- cream my fucking cock baby. fuckkk”
the two of you scream out, as your orgasms rip through at the same time. all you can hear is ellie saying “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!!” as you come undone, her fucking you through every last bit of your orgasm. she collapses next to you, pulling out. you whimper at the feeling of emptiness. “i love you so much.” she says, wrapping her hand around your waist basking in the skin to skin contact. “i love you, els.” she kisses you softly, rubbing your plump hips.
“i love you most sweetheart, happy anniversary.”
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polarisbibliotheque · 6 months
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Dante & Vergil with their s/o hunting bloodthirsty mosquitoes (+Nero with Kyrie doing the same)
Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader; Nero x Kyrie Summary: Oh, summer. Heatwaves, short clothes, ice cream... And mosquitoes. A human hunting down a mosquito is one thing, but a half-demon? Well, those little hellish beings better be ready for it. Author's notes: You're probably thinking yours truly lost all her sanity, and you're probably right. It's the second day of spring here where I live and it's so freaking hot, the only thing I've been able to eat the last few days was ice cream. It's usually hot as hell here in Brazil, but not this time of the year - December/January/February are the most unbelievably hot months in my city. And, of course, the mosquitoes have to rise from hell itself to buzz in your ears while you try to sleep and suck your blood, ginving you terrible rashes in the morning. I killed four of them the past two days and yesterday, I had to enlist my sister to help hunt one of them down. This little fic might have something to do with that incident xD
I had to write something and laugh at all those goofs trying to be functional normal humans. That's it. It's all ridiculous fluff and laughs while melting from too much heat, hope you guys enjoy ^^
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Dante
“Ya know, if ya clap those really fast, you might summon a demon.”
You just looked back at Dante with murder in your eyes.
The red devil stood by the stairs, having his arms crossed and leaning by the guardrail, that characteristic grin spreading across his lips.
You wanted to throw the flip flops in your hands right at his face – maybe that would get rid of that insufferable cocky smile.
Sometimes you understood Vergil in a soul level.
“If said demon decimates the freaking mosquito who’s been testing my sanity for the past hour, I’m all in.” You turned your eyes back to the ceiling, searching for that single little thing that took peace away from you that day.
The shop wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, that you had to admit, but the last couple of days were hotter than the layers of fire in Hell itself – Vergil would argue, but even he realized it wasn’t wise to discuss with you when you were melting faster than an ice cream on asphalt.
The heat, however, brought along the mosquito wave.
Hence why you were on the top of Dante’s desk, barefoot, sporting your peak summer style, flip flops ready to kill. Hearing Dante making fun of that situation wasn’t really aligned to your mood at that moment.
“Eh, already…?” Dante still had the smile plastered on his lips, casually approaching the desk. He was one to talk: given how hot it was, he was wearing only his pants, completely barefoot and shirtless – and even then, you questioned how he could walk around with those heavy, black pants without falling apart. “Thought these little fuckers would take a lot more time to appear.”
“Well, apparently they thought the same and figured a surprise attack would be more efficient.” You just heard his giggle as you kept on looking everywhere near the ceiling, round and round the desk. Dante rested his arms on it, casually looking up to watch you.
He couldn’t deny, it was funny. All that made him smile and relax: it was so mundane, so… Human. To think one day he’d be at his shop with his most beloved being in all dimensions, worrying about heatwaves and nagging mosquitoes; watching as you practically danced around on his desk, hunting mosquitoes with all the might in the world. As if you both didn’t hunt demons for a living.
As if life was just like that… Perfectly mundane.
“You give’em more credit than they deserve, babe.” Dante leaned his head in one of his hands, watching you with dreamy eyes. At the peak of your annoyance, you never thought the son of Sparda would look at you so lovingly – then again, he wasn’t an ordinary man.
“Oh, I don’t think so, hot stuff.” Your answer was mindless, making Dante open a huge, radiant smile, sparkling as much as his eyes. “Those things come directly from the layers of Hell, I’m certain of it.” You finally put your arms down, looking back at Dante and finding him with that unexpected expression. “What…?”
“You called me hot stuff, hot stuff.” He winked back, making you realize your ‘mistake’.
It wasn’t really a mistake. But Dante would definitely become even more insufferable with that.
“I blame the mosquitoes from Hell.” Your answer was ridiculous but sure, making Dante burst into laughs as he circled the table to sit on his big chair.
“That’d be a great name for a metal band. The Mosquitoes From Hell.” He laughed even more, resting his feet on a small spot on the table, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with your hunt.
“There you go. You, Verge and Nero can play together now.” You didn’t have much fun in your voice, going back to searching your nemesis in the air. Dante snorted a laugh, knowing you were joking – even if you were too focused to make it obvious.
“Dressed as vampires, it’d be perfect!”
But you couldn’t remain too serious around Dante for a long time. As soon as he added that, you closed your eyes, resting your wrists on your waist, letting out a sigh along a laugh. Imagining them all dressed as vampires, playing together as mosquitoes from Hell was too much – Dante now had your attention, beating the rogue mosquito you couldn’t find anymore.
You eyed him back, having a half smile on your lips. Dante was relaxed as he could be, his arms on the back of his head, helping him rest as he watched you with all the interest in the world.
“C’mon. I’d be one hell of a vampire!” Once again, he had that smile on his lips – sprinkled with a little more happiness now that you were into it.
“You’d be the sexiest one for sure, Mr. it’s-too-hot-to-wear-shirts.” You pointed back at him with one of the flip flops still in your hand, making Dante smile even more – a little blushed, but that could be because of the heat. “Dante!”
Without thinking twice, he caught your hand and pulled you to him, making you both rock on the chair violently as you tried not to end up on the floor. But Dante was strong and used to a lot more difficult tricks, having you on his lap, both legs secured by one of his hands on his right side. You had to let go of the flip flops, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, as both of you laughed.
“A reckless vampire too!” You finally put some distance between your faces as you were finally settled, finding Dante’s blushed cheeks as he laughed while still looking at you with adoration in his eyes. “Well, well. You got my attention now, cowboy.”
If only Dante knew how much you loved seeing him like that – completely human, vulnerable, having fun, as if none of the heavy burdens from his past weighted on his soul anymore.
“I’m happy, then. I was feeling a little ignored, babe.” He chuckled back, still blushing. Whenever it was hot like that, Dante had a tendency to be as red as an apple – and you didn’t complain. In a certain way, it was cute. As cute as a half-demon son of Sparda could be.
“I’m never ignoring you, babe.” You murmured, brushing some of his stray white hair away from his eyes, giving room to those beautiful skies that always allowed you to see his soul. Dante would always allow you to see him like that. “You better be ready for some undivided attention.”
“Hmmm, I could use a little o’ that…”
You barely waited for Dante to finish his sentence, catching his lips in a slow kiss. Dante rested one of his hands on the back of your neck, after brushing some of your hair back.
It was hot as Hell, yes. But not even that would stop you from loving your red devil.
Only one thing ever could.
mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEppppPPPPP!
“Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’…!” Dante immediately let go of your lips, having the peak of annoyance in his beautiful blue eyes. “Where’s that little shit?! Did you hear it too?!”
“That’s precisely what I’ve been through for the last hours, my beloved.” You had the most annoyed smile plastered on your lips, eyes closed as if you were trying to maintain yourself calm. “I told you. When you least expect it, that spawn from Hell will meep furiously in your ears, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Oh, there is.” Now Dante put you aside, taking your flip flops and climbing on the desk. “I’m gonna obliterate that lil’ bastard!”
“Now that I’d love to see.” Oh, how tables had turned. There you were, sitting on his big chair, arms crossed, cocky grin in your lips, watching that brick house of a man using his enhanced demonic senses to find the darn mosquito. “Who would’ve known. Good to deal with demonic pests and mundane pests.”
“Oh, look who’s bein’ all funny now!” Dante glanced you again, but he himself couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Guess I’m the full package, huh?”
“That just makes you hotter, if you wanna know.” You had a matter-of-fact tone, leaning back on the chair and resting your feet on the table. “Nothing like a man who can fight and love like Aragorn as well as cook some damn good potatoes and look after the house like Samwise Gamgee.”
“You know what they say, get yourself a man who can do both. Found ya!”
You could swear Dante’s voice had a tinge of his trigger distortion as the red devil finally found his foe flying around his head. Dante tried a few slaps, but the mosquito was too close for him to be able to kill it. Using the flip flops to fan it away from him, you both lost the mosquito for a while, remaining quiet. Dante used all of his senses to finally see it nearing the couch – with a deadly aim, he one-shot his pray with your flip flop, too fast and lethal for the thing to run away.
The mosquito was no more – its remains were glued on the sole of your flip flop in a stain of blood.
“That was so hot.” You were mesmerized and a little bit jealous of his abilities not only to hunt demons but now, to hunt mosquitos as well. Dante really was the whole package.
“I’m startin’ to question your definition of hot, babe.” Dante let out a good laugh, sitting on the edge of the desk, legs dangling by your side.
“Everything you do, basically.” You shrugged, getting up from the chair to be at least almost his size. Standing between his legs, you wrapped your arms around his neck, ruffling his soft white hair back in order to see his eyes – those eyes you loved so much, so vulnerable and loving towards you. “Thank you so much for saving my desperate human soul, hot stuff.”
“I’m always at your service, pretty eyes.” Dante’s answer was almost a murmur as he leaned to catch your lips with his one more time. “No interruptions this time.”
You laughed between his words and kisses, ready to spend the rest of the night loving him unconditionally.
That is. If you both didn’t hear another approaching MEEP into your ears.
“You gotta be kidding me.” You sighed, throwing your head back.
“Get all the shoes, babe. Those lil’ shits have no idea what they got themselves into.”
Of course, you both had other plans for that night – involving a lot of love, kisses and giggles between you, as time stopped and you could enjoy yourselves, even with that relentless heatwave. The night was spent, though, with you both viciously hunting mosquitoes, keeping scores, making bets between yourselves, drinking beer and eating the leftover cold pizza in the fridge.
It wasn’t what people would consider a perfect evening – but, whenever you were together, things were certainly a lot more entertaining. As you and Dante took refuge in his room, finally getting rid of all the mosquitoes, you lied tiredly in each other’s arms, laughing about your hunt that night, until you fell asleep without a single meep to wake you up.
And that, you would say, was perfect.
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Vergil
“I need to enlist your help for a mission, my love.”
Vergil was immediately serious. It was funny how you could watch him change his demeanor – you once told Dante it was like when Marilyn Monroe put on her persona and suddenly people were aware she was there and Dante never allowed his brother to have a single moment of peace upon knowing that.
But it was true. It took some time, but Vergil slowly allowed his shoulders to rest relaxed whenever you were around. His eyebrows weren’t as harsh, his jaw wasn’t tensed all the time. You could see how his forehead remained smooth, how his long hands rested calmly somewhere instead of constantly gripping some invisible weapon. His breath turned slower and smoother, his focus allowing him to plunge completely into his beloved books instead of remaining always with a steady eye on his surroundings.
Whenever you were around, Vergil was safe – of that, he was sure. He had his moments of slipping up, of having his survival instincts make him suddenly tense up and remain vigilant. But you managed to bring a peace to him he never thought he would experience before – and Vergil always allowed himself to slowly, very slowly, relax again.
When you were serious, though, survival-mode Vergil came back to the surface: shoulders tensing, eyes turning into steely blocks of ice, hands closing in fists, gazing you intently while waiting for anything to suddenly appear so he could kill it with just a glare. It was his famous ‘dark aura’ as you called, and not even Dante had that – it was Vergil’s special power and it could make the bravest of demons run away with just a stare.
“What happened?” Vergil’s voice was cold and low, carrying not only all his worry, but his rage.
“The worst creature from Hell has ascended to test us.” You spoke solemnly but there was something quite not right with your tone. Nevertheless, Vergil was even more weary: he was ready to void-cut your way to Nero’s place so you could be safe while he dealt with whatever it was that decided to haunt you. “There’s a huge mosquito in the bedroom. I can’t work properly and, trust me, we will never get a good night of sleep with that thing buzzing around.”
“A… Mosquito…?” Now Vergil slowly crossed his arms, looking down at you. He still had his shoulders tense, jaw locked and stoic look in his eyes, but you knew those would water down after a while – the most important thing was the ‘dark aura’: as soon as he realized you were both safe and there was nothing to worry too much about, it vanished just like Marylin Monroe did whenever she didn’t want to be recognized.
It was impressive, really.
“Yes. And don’t you dare mock me.” You pointed right at him as soon as it seemed Vergil was ready to scold you for being foolish – something that looked quite similar to when he was about to go in a fight. “You can be my guest and try to sleep with the mosquitoes, I’ll sleep on the couch if I need too. But those things will not rob me of my sanity.”
“Hmmm. It’s been a while I don’t see one…” With those words, Vergil followed you to your shared bedroom, having just come out of his shower into that mess. “It makes sense. I believe they come out when the weather is hot, right…?”
“Oh, c’mon. You have to have these little things in Hell. It’s practically a mini-demon spawn with wings and tiny horns imbued in it to drive you crazy.” As soon as you finished your description, Vergil had to close his eyes and do his best to not snort a quick laugh – something he wasn’t really successful at. “You can’t possibly make me believe those weren’t made by the forces of evil to suck blood and endlessly annoy all living beings.”
“We have worst in Hell.” Vergil’s look at you was still strict, but his silver eyes had a tinge of care. He would never admit out loud – and he almost wouldn’t admit even to himself – but the way you talked, the way you eloquently described things to amuse not only him but yourself as well always seemed adorable to Vergil.
You, in the other hand, eyed him with notes of annoyance while resting your hands on your waist. You were the face of the summer that day, having seriously considered being only in your underwear during a few moments, completely out of not being able to tackle the sudden heatwave. Vergil had his dark pajama pants on, his torso covered by a white sleeveless shirt, completely barefoot and his hair slicked back – still wet from the almost cold shower he just took.
Whenever you questioned his heat resistance – afraid that he would die from the heatwave out of not wanting to show too much of his skin ‘like his stupid brother’ all the time – Vergil would just glare you and answer with ‘I’ve had worse”.
You knew he was talking about Hell. In a way, Vergil was quite different than everyone else because of all the things he got used to or desensitized in Hell – heat was only one of them. Vergil could go days without eating, without sleeping, he could endure a lot of pain and dismiss lethal wounds to keep on fighting, and so on… But his sense of taste was also a lot more sensitive, specially regarding sweet foods, as well as his sense of smell – when it came to delightful scents Vergil could notice them a mile away but he could also feel sick from being overwhelmed after a while; with foul scents, though, he had a higher tolerance, getting used to them after only a few seconds. Soft textures and lullabies could also get him by surprise, making him always wonder if there was something hidden behind those.
You could make a list of things that Vergil reacted differently or had been desensitized after his long time in Hell – and the heatwave from that day was certainly one of the items in your list.
“Well… Where is it?”
“It was on the ceiling. I climbed up on the bed trying to reach it, but it’s too far away for me.” You sighed, looking back at him. “I don’t know where it is now. We’ll have to hunt it.”
“You are aware that climbing furniture is very dangerous, right?” Vergil spoke slowly, in the same rhythm his steps casually walked around the bedroom.
“Oh, yes. I hunt demons for a living, but climbing a bed to kill a mosquito is going to be my downfall.” Having your flip flops already on your hands, you couldn’t refrain from answering him with sarcasm.
“Even Achilles had his blind spots.” And as much as you hated it, you had to recognize when Vergil was right. “It will take too long to find it this way. It’s easier if we allow it to come to us.”
“Hmmm… That’s a very good idea, hadn’t thought of that before.” You stopped by his side, both of you observing the room with smart eyes.
“You once mentioned they are attracted to breathing.” Vergil looked back at you, making you nod in return. With that confirmation, he started breathing heavily in order to attract the mosquito.
“Good idea. I’m going to turn off the lights too, they seem to leave wherever they are in search for another light source.”
Vergil just agreed with his head as you turned off the lights and stopped by his side, both of you breathing heavily, trying to lure your prey out of its hiding spot.
In all his life, after all he had done, all he sacrificed and all the souls he destroyed – including his own – Vergil never thought he would be doing something so… Ordinary. Stupid even. There were you, in the dark, breathing weirdly to attract a simple mosquito in order to give you some peace of mind.
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, even if a little bit. If he could wish for something, he would wish for ordinary days with you for the rest of his life. Dealing with broken showers in the bathroom, fixing a leaking sink in the kitchen, having all the lights go out and depend only on candles, sit by your side reading thousands of recipes trying to understand why a pie backfired in the oven… All painfully mundane things, but so human. So heartwarming to the soul.
It was a kind of peace Vergil knew he did not deserve after all his actions – after all the blood he had shed. But it was something for him to hope for; and human hearts always kept hope inside even if it was an unlikely sort of hope, right?
As you turned on the lights once more, you and Vergil remained with your breathing technique – but none of you could see even a wing of the mosquito. After a few seconds, you had to look at each other.
“We look quite ridiculous, don’t we…?” With your question, not even Vergil could keep serious – both of you started laughing, shaking your heads in unison.
“We can always wait and see if it appears again.”
But as soon as Vergil let those words out of his lips, both of you picked up the characteristic buzzing of a mosquito around the room. Turning your heads immediately, you could see how Vergil had his hunting glare on: carefully scanning his surroundings, the mosquito wouldn’t escape the vicious Dark Slayer.
“Over there!” You threw one of your flip flops towards it, missing for just a little bit.
The shoe was followed by a small, bright blue summoned sword – and that one didn’t miss.
“Wow. Who would’ve guessed, summoned swords have domestic purposes as well.”
“They are very useful for a great number of things.” Vergil shook his head, letting out a breathy small laugh. But then, his hunting eyes were back. “Did you hear that…?”
“What…?” You froze in place, glancing around the bedroom, trying to listen to what he had picked up. Vergil took one of his fingers to his lips, signaling for you to listen carefully right after, making you focus even more.
Those things didn’t happen all the time – but they would be as unexpected as a shooting star crossing the sky. All of a sudden, catching you by surprise, Vergil’s hands rested on your hips, his lips planting a kiss on your forehead.
“Ah!” But of course. Even if Vergil was careful and didn’t do things as suddenly – or as aggressively – as his twin brother when it came to surprises, you did get startled, tripping on your own feet as he kissed you. “Verge!”
“Y/n! Be careful!” Vergil tried to hold you as best as he could. Your hands entangled, one of his arms trying to embrace your waist and pull you back to him. He lost his balance, though, tripping alongside you and trying to stop whatever was happening – as long as you didn’t get hurt, it would be alright for him.
As unexpected as his kiss was, you both ended up falling on the bed – which, at least, was a fluffy fall. Until, that is, a loud crack resonated through the room. Vergil still held you tight in his arms, your fingers intertwined as you felt the bed giving in under your weight.
When all went silent, you and Vergil both exchanged looks, still trying to understand what happened.
It didn’t take too much to remember your bed was a little wobbly – because of Vergil’s recurrent nightmares, you had a couple accidents with the Yamato, chipping at the bed and having to fix it until you had time to buy a sturdier one. With the weight of the both of you falling on it, the bed couldn’t take it anymore and cracked in pieces.
“I blame the mosquito.” You whispered silently, making Vergil immediately bury his head on your neck.
You could hear a muffled laugh – not loud, but comfortable, as he would always be around you. Resting one of your hands on his wet hair, you smiled as you felt his shoulders finally relax, his jaw losing the tension as Vergil kissed your neck.
“We will look for a new bed tomorrow morning.” He sighed, still wondering if all of that was one of Mundus’ illusions before he woke up once more in Hell, having his soul broken even further.
If it was, Vergil closed his eyes and wished for it to last a little longer this time.
“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch for a while.” You ran your fingers through his hair, making Vergil lean his weight on his arms in order to look into your eyes. There was nothing in there that could point to Mundus’ tricks – your eyes were filled with adoration and a slight tinge of melancholy, a mixture particular to you that always made him secretly breathless and completely vulnerable. “As long as you’re around, anything works for me.”
Vergil always found something quite interesting when you were around. All his life, he believed there were words for everything – and all could be expressed through prose, through a painting of words into a masterpiece. Upon meeting you, though, he realized some things had no words in any languages he knew that could express what he wanted to say – the only thing he could do was to kiss you back with all the admiration that stirred inside his chest.
Indeed, sleeping on the couch was far from perfect. But having your head safe and sound on his chest while he played with your hair, with you listening to his heartbeat as you always enjoyed to do…Vergil thought not even Heaven could be more perfect than that – and he asked whatever could listen to allow him to live such an ordinary, human life for as long as he could.
Because as long as you were around, anything worked for him.
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Nero
“Hey, Kyrie…? I was thinking maybe we can move those shelves from the bedroom to the…”
If there was a thing Nero used to do quite often, that thing would be already talking without even making sure the other person was listening. Usually while still walking towards them, screaming in the distance, barely paying attention to said person.
He seriously questioned why he and Kyrie decided to clean and solve all the little issues in their house on the hottest day of the year – but then again, it was a sudden heatwave and no one was expecting it. Nevertheless, his white tank top was already drenched in sweat, his pair of jeans definitely too hot for that day and he was doing something he never did in his life: working barefoot.
Having a piece of furniture he was tinkering with in his hands, he approached the living room so he could tell Kyrie his brilliant idea of moving the shelves to the garage – decluttering the bedroom and having more storage where they actually needed. As he looked up, though, Nero most definitely didn’t expect that sight.
Kyrie was wearing the shortest pair of shorts she could find at home – flimsy, delicate, from her pajamas – and a sports bra. That’s it. Her hair was tied in a bun, while she had a spatula on one of her hands, completely barefoot on top of the kitchen counter island. Her skin glistening with sweat, while she viciously looked for something.
Nero didn’t want to blush. He wasn’t going to blush. He pursed his lips and did his best to control all of his feelings – after all, he could control his devil trigger, controlling blushing because of seeing that goddess of a woman right on their kitchen wearing almost nothing and being absolutely gorgeous shouldn’t be harder, right…? Right…?! It shouldn’t. Nero wasn’t…
He was blushing. Like a bell pepper.
“Oh, Nero! I didn’t listen to what you said, I’m sorry…!” Kyrie was a little startled upon seeing him – and she certainly took the blushing as his response to how hot the day was rather than anything else.
“What… Did you know climbing furniture is dangerous?!” After the initial shock, though, Nero’s protective instincts towards his loved ones had to kick in. Approaching the island in a hurry, he had his hands on his waist, but ready to get Kyrie out of there.
“Oh, I do, don’t treat me like a child.” Even though her answer was annoyed, Kyrie dismissed his comment with a sigh and a slight smile: she would never complain about how protective Nero was towards her. She would always appreciate that. “But I’m trying to solve a problem on my own.”
“Well, the only problem I see here is you on top of the counter, beautiful.” Nero rested his hands on the cold stone, slightly considering laying down on it to get rid of the heat. Maybe standing on it wasn’t that bad, but he would never endorse such dangerous behavior on her side. “C’mon. Lemme help you down.”
“Hey! I’m doing some hunting, I won’t climb down now!” Kyrie now had her hands on her waist, finally looking down at Nero and finding his always attentive but loving aquamarine eyes. She could never get angry at those eyes, he definitely was her soft spot. “I’ve been doing this for the past half-hour. It’s ok, Nero.”
“Wait, what? Huntin’? What’s the matter?!” It was like she flipped a switch in Nero. Suddenly, there was the devil hunter, always aware of his surroundings, ready to sucker-punch any clueless demon that appeared in front of him. All of this got amplified with the fact that Kyrie was around and he would be damned if anyone even thought about touching her in his presence.
She had to giggle. It was almost a natural response even. Nero could have all the pose he wanted – he could be the troublesome punk with a dirty mouth and short-tempered behavior all he wanted – but Kyrie could always see the man he was underneath all that. In his aquamarine eyes, Kyrie has ever seen a sweet man, gentle, worried about his friends, loyal and caring, ready to sacrifice everything and anything for his loved ones. The punk attitude could fool everyone else but her.
And Kyrie had to admit, Nero looked as cute as a badass demon hunter could be when she saw everything that was under his short-tempered answers, ready to get into a fight – the love, the care and the immediate instinct to protect at all costs.
He looked up at her, clueless for a few moments. Kyrie would always look like a little angel in Nero’s eyes, with a giggle resembling little silver bells on a golden morning. Her cheeks slightly blushing, her beautiful hair starting to fall over her face, her rose-pink lips so delicate as her warm brown eyes watched him with care.
“It’s nothing like that, silly…” Her voice was always soft, so different than everything else Nero had always heard. Since the beginning, he was always used to being treated harshly or with indifference, but Kyrie was the first one to offer him comfort and love. He always thought falling for her was inevitable, as they were meant to be from the moment their eyes crossed for the first time. “I’m having mosquito problems.”
“Mosquito problems…?” And suddenly, all that wave of adrenaline washed off his body. Nero could be calmer, it wasn’t anything to be horribly worried at. Leaning over the kitchen counter, he smiled up at his little angel. “All that ‘cause of a lil’ mosquito…?”
“Oh, don’t downplay it like that!” Kyrie pretended to be mad, lightly slapping one of his arms with the spatula. As Nero giggled, she started looking around again. “I’ve been on that for the past half-hour. I’ve been trying to catch it but it’s too fast!”
“We can always try some pesticide.” As soon as Nero suggested, Kyrie glanced at him.
“Nero. Last time we tried pesticide, you almost died from the smell. We had to ask Dante to sleep at the shop, remember?” Of course, he didn’t. Nero had probably erased that memory out of his head, but Kyrie would forever be there to remind him: out of the two, he was the most sensitive with strong chemical smells, specially cleaning products and pesticides, given his demonic heritage. Nero would never want to admit it out loud, but it was true.
“Oh… Yeah.” As always, Nero would do his best to change subjects – thanking the heatwave for the first time for serving as a perfect cover for his blushing. “But ya know, killin’ it with a spatula isn’t the best thing in the world. Actually, killin’ it isn’t like you at all.”
“Well, I get rashes every time they bite me. I must be allergic to something.” Kyrie sighed, finally approaching Nero on the counter. He stepped back for a bit and she put the spatula away, sitting in front of him, legs hanging from the counter. “And you were sort of allergic too when we were kids.”
“Ah, yeah, I remember… Got some pretty nasty itches all over my arms.” Nero let out a quick laugh, unconsciously resting his hands on Kyrie’s thighs. She was warmer than usual – not as much as him though – and her skin was soft, slightly damp. As a reflex, he lightly caressed her tights with his thumbs while talking – and Kyrie thanked the heatwave for hiding the real reason she was blushing at that moment. “You’re right, I’ll give ya that. Mosquitoes aren’t allowed in this house.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was a small whisper, Kyrie still trying to control her heartbeat. She wasn’t half-demon like Nero though, and her human heart would always follow her own feelings instead of whatever her mind was trying to control. “Do you think you can help me with it?”
“I can always help you with anything, princess.” His aquamarine eyes sparkled with care as Nero leaned forward to place a very not rushed at all kiss on her angel lips. Kyrie cradled his face with both of her hands, smiling into his lips – Nero always tasted honey-sweet to her, no matter the situation. “Alright, angel, time to deal with your mosquito. Where’s the lil’ bastard?”
“It was flying around the ceiling. I managed to slap it a couple of times but, as you said, spatulas aren’t that efficient.” She let go of him, watching lovingly as Nero got a couple of shoes he had left in the kitchen while cleaning the bedroom floor. “What are you going to do with so many shoes…?”
“Well, I got a trick up my sleeve.” With a wink, Nero’s ice blue trigger claws appeared behind his back like a set of wings, catching one shoe in each of its hands. Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing. “Ya know, demons have their domestic uses, we can be pretty handy at home.”
“That was awful, Nico would love it!” Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing and giggling as Nero climbed on the kitchen counter, armed with two pairs of shoes.
He wasn’t lying: his trigger could be very helpful when doing chores. That was how he always did whatever he needed to do around the house in half of the time: Nero literally had control over another set of hands to help.
As Nero used all his enhanced senses to find the mosquito and start hunting it with four relentless shoes, Kyrie watched him with what one would think it was too much admiration in her eyes for such a trivial thing. Even though it was mundane, it wasn’t trivial to her: nothing was trivial when it came to spending time with someone she loved, especially Nero.
When others would see a half-demon creature, Kyrie would see the human she loved so much. And not only that – they started dating when they were teens, yes, they grew up together and soon that young love matured over time – Kyrie didn’t see her boyfriend, but a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and who would be such a great husband and father.
Nero would deny if she ever told him that, of course. But Kyrie could see how he played with the children, how he scolded them in such a fatherly way when needed, how he always seemed to have so much patience even if he hid it under a short-tempered demeanor. Nero would make the best dad jokes, he would build the best pillow forts, he would stay awake into the night to care for his children when they would get sick… Kyrie could make a list of things Nero would certainly do as a father – and would excel at it.
“C’mon… Where did it… A-ha! Found it! No escape now!”
She was brought up from her thoughts as soon as Nero exclaimed those words, all four pieces of shoes ready to attack. The mosquito had nowhere to go: he threw one shoe, calculated the route the mosquito would fly over, and threw the other three in a row – faster than she could even think about it. The mosquito was caught in the second shoe, but, if that hadn’t happened, it would had found certain death in the other shoes.
“Job done, princess! Your nights will be peaceful and mosquito-less again!” Nero’s trigger hands disappeared as he bowed to Kyrie – who just laughed and applauded as he did so.
“Thank you so much, brave knight!” She had to joke around. Nero had this thing of calling her princess ever since they were teens – and he never knew how much her heart jumped inside of her chest every time he did that. To counter it and be able to hide how much she loved him in Fortuna, Kyrie would always call him something like that back as a joke, so the elders would think they were just playing. It sort of became their thing after a while – and she quite enjoyed it. “I think it’s my turn to repay you.”
“Eh, no need…” With a sigh, Nero sat by Kyrie’s side on the counter, legs dangling from it as well. He was a lot taller than her, but not even his feet couldn’t reach the floor from where they were sitting. “I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”
Looking at her, Nero allowed a caring smile to fill not only his lips but his eyes as well. While so many people saw only fire and rage, Kyrie had the privilege of seeing love and vulnerability inside that aquamarine sea.
Placing one of her hands on his cheek, Kyrie pulled Nero for a kiss – soft, long and calm. Nero was taken aback for a few seconds before melting into it, placing his hands on her hips and finding her soft skin. It seemed like a bolt of lightning went up their spines as Nero caressed her sides and ran his hand on her silky, slightly damp back.
“Oh, what were you saying about the bedroom before…?” Her question was a whisper as Kyrie parted the kiss – both of them blushing and vaguely breathless.
“Nothin’ that matters. The shelves can wait.” Nero dismissed it quickly, pulling her back to a kiss – both of them laughing between each other’s lips.
The house was a mess as they were cleaning everything: the kitchen and the bedroom seemed like they were torn apart, with clothes and shoes lying everywhere, books finding temporary solace somewhere else, and everything looking like it was turned upside down.
Spending time with each other, though, was a bigger priority. They would order some pizza and sleep on the couch under a light bedsheet so they wouldn’t get caught by surprise in case Nico decided to visit all of a sudden in the morning – but they wouldn’t pass the opportunity of loving each other.
As the night settled, they rested on the couch, Nero cradling Kyrie safely in his arms, as they talked the night away, always blushing from being so intimate with each other – that would never change, no matter how many years had gone by.
While watching Kyrie giggling from one of his stupid jokes, looking like an angel resting her head on his chest, Nero blushed even more while laughing alongside her and playing with her hair. He would always be a fool for her.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a glass of cold water for you?” Kyrie whispered into the night, the humming of the fan they found in the back of the garage making the weather a little bit more bearable. “You look like a tomato, dear.”
“Oh, it’s ok. It’s chillier now, my temperature will go down soon.” Nero smiled back at her, wondering how Kyrie could be so radiant. No supernatural creature could top that. “No need to worry, angel. Thank you.”
Obviously, he would never say he was blushing because of her - having only one thing in his mind… Thank whatever forces that be for that heatwave.
280 notes · View notes
thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months
Text
sour summer
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a/n: this is a prequel to my story the murder at evergreen university. if you haven’t yet, then i highly recommend you to go read that one first. 
summary: “were you really always this pretty?”
warnings: Ari Levinson x reader, smut, prequel to this story (so beware that it does contain some spoilers), childhood friends to lovers, neighbours, family friend!Ari, cop!Ari, shy!reader, virgin!reader, slight age gap (in my head reader is 18 and ari is in his mid 20's), pining, cheating, kissing, loss of virginity, corruption kink, size kink, fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, manhandling
word count: 6301
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | evergreen university masterlist
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After rifling through your closet from top to bottom, you finally gave up on the wild goose chase and stormed out of your room. 
“Hey mom?” you called out as you neared the kitchen, “have you seen my cardigan? The grey one with the-,” your whole body froze as you crossed the threshold and saw the unexpected figure leaning against the kitchen island, “oh my god…” 
“Y/n,” your mother smile, setting down her mug of amber tea, “look who stopped by for a visit,” gesturing to not only the accustomed visage of Mrs Levinson, who had always been more of an aunt to you than a next door neighbour with how tight-knit your families were, but more specifically focusing your attention on the other much more surprising visage that instantly made the sweater hunt become a task of the past. 
“Ari?” the warm sound of his name gushed out of you and spread over every inch of your form, causing goosebumps to erupt as your eyes raked across his brawny figure, “what are you doing here?” you darted to steal a hug, nearly tripping his bulky frame over in the process. 
Curiously, he too seemed taken aback by your appearance, almost as if he hadn’t quite recognised you till your mom had called you by your name. 
Completely stunned, it took a moment before his tree trunk-like arms hesitantly enclosed around your form, “Y/n?” you pulled back and took in his speechless expression, “um, hi,” he exhaled hazily, vibrant eyes dancing over every change that had appeared since you last saw each other. 
“You could have called first,” you light-heartedly shoved his broad chest, his warm palms still glued to your waist, “give a girl some warning.”
“Sorry,” he chuckled in return, “I didn’t know going home to visit my own parents required an official warning or something.”
“Sweetie,” your mom ripped your attention back to the task at hand, “I think you might have left that cardigan out back.”
“Oh, thanks!” you smiled before snatching up one of Ari’s hands and stealing him with you. His palm felt so big in yours, so warm and wide, engulfing yours completely. Dragging him along, you quickly became thankful that he couldn’t spot the flush the buzzing contact caused to erupt across your cheeks. “So,” you hesitantly let go as your toes touched the freshly cut blades of grass, “how have you been?”
Sucking in a much-needed breath, he answered, “I’ve been fine, I’ve been good.”
“Arrested a lot of criminals lately? Anything cool? A serial killer maybe?” you asked excitedly as your eyes scanned the garden, searching everywhere from the raised patio to the majestic oak in the bottom corner that accommodated a treehouse worthy of any child’s dream. 
“No, no,” he chortled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “no serial killers, just everyday boring stuff, you know…”
A giddy squeal emitted from your lungs as you finally spotted the lightweight, crumbled, grey knit draped over one of the white chairs slotted to the oblong patio table.
“So, what about you, huh?” Ari asked as you sloppily tied the cardigan around your hips, the rays of sun kissing your exposed skin warmed you up enough not to need it out here. 
“Have I arrested any serial killers lately?” you jested. 
“No,” he smiled, “what’s new with you?”
“Well, my mom properly already told you,” a bubble of excitement tickled your belly at the news, “but I got into Evergreen University.”
“No way, really?” he exclaimed, both of you naturally shifting to continue the conversation seated. 
“Yeah, I start in a little under two months.”
“Is it still psychology that you wanna study or has that changed?” 
“No, it’s still that,” his recollection caused your smile to grow, though in that moment it also dawned on you how intensely he was staring, absorbing every micro change to your features, and heat began to rise in your cheeks, “what?”
Not halting his vision’s lavish journey, he hummed, “huh?”
“Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”
“No, it’s just-…” his words came out sounding spellbound, “did you always look like this?”
“Um…” you genuinely thought about it a moment, scrambling your brain for a logical answer, “I got a haircut about a month ago, maybe that’s it?” 
“No,” a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his piercing gaze carried on, “it’s definitely not that…”
Positively flustered, you awkwardly changed the subject, “so, uh, do you maybe wanna do something fun while you're home?” shifting in your seat as you proposed, “we could go to the beach or something, like we used to.”
“Sure, I’d love that,” he uttered genuinely.  
“Cool,” you gracelessly nodded.  
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Your attention directed to the fluffy, sheep-like clouds got swept away as a figure appeared in the window opposing to the one in your bedroom. All of the air escaped your lungs as your eyes did a double take on the glistening visage closing the bathroom door behind him into his own childhood room. 
To say that you were pleased that your childhood crush had returned was an understatement, to say the least. 
Fresh out of the shower, there he emerged. White towel wrapped low around his hips, you could almost make out the water droplets still clinging to his brawny back as he yanked open a few drawers in his dresser in search of a crisp set of clothing. 
Cursing softly underneath your breath, your jaw hit the floor as he, with his back still turned to you, let the towel fall before stepping into a pair of black boxers. Rotating gently as he tugged the underwear up into place, you swore you saw just the hint of the part of him that made your centre throb most of all, though you had to lean on your overactive imagination to fill out the rest of the masterpiece. 
Dreamy head cocked to the side as you peep, it took you a second to realise that he was now facing the window, facing you. Not taking a moment to even check if he actually had spotted you, your knees instinctually buckled and sent you soaring down towards the floor, your hands just narrowly catching onto the windowsill for support. 
“Hey, honey?” the voice of your mother shot through the house to find your flushed ears, “can you give me a hand setting the table? The Levinsons will be over in a bit!”
“Y-yeah! Yeah!” you shakily replied, cautiously unfurling from the tense ball you had become underneath your window, “I’ll be right there!” 
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Mild evening air rustling your hair, you dangled your sandal-clad feet over the edge of the slim deck area that wrapped around the western side of the treehouse. With a part of the fence safely slotted in between your thighs, your eyes were busy raking across the blushing skies that stretched over your neighbourhood as a voice from below suddenly caught your attention. 
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” your vision flickered down to spot Ari at the base, ready with one hand on the sturdy ladder, the other one dexterously balanced two frosty cones as he offered, “might I interest you in some ice cream?”
The sinful peepshow you had caught earlier that day had made casually sitting across from him at dinner rather overwhelming, both your families' presents not helping to make it less awkward. So as soon as you’d scarfed down your last bite, you excused yourself and ducked up into the treehouse, in hopes of a chance to finally cool down.
“How is that even a question?” you called down, watching as he carefully made his way up the tree. 
“Okay,” he exhaled as he settled in beside you, his warm leg ghosting against your own and causing goosebumps to erupt underneath your dress, “so, I’ve got one strawberry and one that’s-,” you didn’t need an introduction to deduct that the other one was exactly the rich chocolate one you always gravitated towards. Snatching it up with an eager squeal before he could even get the words out, he simply laughed, “oh, you’re just going right for it. I don’t know why I even bothered to offer you a choice,” watching as you hummed in delight, the frosty treat being just what you had wanted. Having a nibble at his own, he twisted his torso slightly and took in the familiar playground, “man… this place really hasn’t changed one bit.”
Peaking over your shoulder as well, you shrugged, “of course not,” his attention jaggedly returned to you as your tongue swiped out to lap up the coco droplets already melting down your hand, “this is our place, remember?” 
“Yeah, I remember,” he uttered distantly, a warm smile blooming on his lips at the memories of the favoured game back when he used to babysit you, “our little kingdom. What was the name of it again?”
“Uh, it was-, it was…” you scrambled your brain with no success, “I actually don’t remember anymore,” you squinted back at him, too wrapped up in your own thought to feel your ice cream melt further down your forearm, “I feel like it might have started with an E or something?” eyes growing wide, your body suddenly froze up as Ari’s forefinger unexpectedly reached out and swiped up the thawed treat, cleaning the milky streek and bringing it back up to his own lips. “D-do you want a taste?” you blinked, chest heaving as you hesitantly offered your flavour, his intense gaze melting you faster than the ice cream could even keep up with. 
Eyes locked on you, he uttered, “I still can’t believe you haven’t got yourself a boyfriend.”
“What?” you giggled breathily, the subject haven come up rather quickly after his yearned for return. 
“I mean, look at you,” you felt your palm grow clammy around the cold cone at his affectionate words, “were you really always this pretty?”
Your face surely resembling a tomato at this point, you averted your gaze, “I literally have ice cream all over myself.”
“Y/n, you’re-…” your eyes flickered back up to meet his dusky ones, “it’s just insane to me that there isn’t a line from here till Timbuktu of people trying to get with you.” 
Utterly stunned, you found yourself suddenly leaning in, letting the overwhelming high his compliments infused in you push you to press your lips against his own in a chased and timid kiss. Reeling back practically as soon as there was even a fraction of contact, a storm swiftly assaulted your mind.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, fighting the urge to scream at your own hormonal instincts getting the best of you, “please just forget that ever-” 
But your mortified apology was hastily cut short as you felt Ari’s free hand find the back of your head and lead it back towards him for a ravenous kiss. It felt like he had just flipped your world upside down, twisted everything you thought was wrong into the truth. In your eyes, there hadn’t ever been anyone but him. Not that you hadn’t tried after he moved away, you had, but no boy you stumbled upon could ever compare to how he made you feel. 
Or how he used to make you feel, because what was coursing through your body now was nothing like you’d ever felt. A kiss had never been so sweet, so hypnotic, so dangerous…
Sensing the cone of ice cream fall from your slackened grasp, the dull sound of it spattering against the grass below ceased to reach your ears. Like a man starved, Ari’s tongue met yours in a flowing dance, your arms timidly coming up to drape around his neck for support as he too tossed his pink ice cream without a care in the world. 
Arms around your form, wide palms nearly burning through the material of your thin dress, he then tipped the both of you to the side, sending you farther away from the edge and further inside the interior of the cosy treehouse. 
Even sprawled out on your sides, his lips never ceased, staying glued to yours in the heated make-out as if it was oxygen to him. Gripping you tight, his broad palms felt you up, causing your toes to curl in your sandals and a muffled moan to vibrate against his lips, a sound that only kindled his inner flame that much further.
In one smooth motion, he rotated your tangled forms, rolling on top of you and with a firm grip at your bottom, just shy beneath your dress, hauled your shorter form further up beneath his, allowing your lips to remain at an equivalent height. 
Fingers digging into your thighs, you clenched them tightly around his hips, lending you to feel even more of the palpable tent that had been so intoxicatingly nudging at your pantie-clad centre, your flowy dress haven already ridden all the way up and granting you to feel that much more.
Mind already two steps ahead of yours, his hips rolled against your own, both of your elated noises melting into one. 
Nevertheless, right as his fingers tore one of your straps down your shoulder, a matronly voice called out from the garden below, “hey, Ari? Hon?” both of you froze up at his mother’s shout, effectively rousing you from your fever dream, “your phone is ringing.”
Breathless, you both blinked back at each other as he mustered an answer, “alright,” his voice thick and his eyes still dark, “I’ll be right down.” 
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How were you ever going to fall asleep? Every single molecule in your body still buzzed of the adrenaline from what had transpired earlier that evening. 
Catching sight of yourself in the mirror that hung on the wall, you couldn’t help but giggle as you still felt your lips tingle in remembrance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a light flicker on in the neighbouring window parallel to your own. Your breath hitched as you spotted your childhood crush already gazing back at you. 
Raising your hand, you offered him a small wave, one which he swiftly mirrored, the silly notion conjuring a noticeable chuckle to rumble within his chest. 
You still weren’t fully convinced that it had actually happened. Not only had you kissed him, but he had actually kissed you back in such a manner that it was sure to erase any form of doubt about what his intentions might be.
Averting your gaze for what only felt like a moment, your head light-heartedly shaking in disbelief as you blinked down at your nightgown, the material bunched up at your thighs as you sat on the bed, the next thing you knew, the sound of a pebble hitting your window caught your attention. 
Had he climbed out of his own window? Went through a door? You couldn’t tell, because all you could focus on was the dimly lit visage of him coming to rest his folded arms against your windowsill. 
Getting up, you hastily worked at pushing it open, “h-hi,” you giggled nervously, a hand swiftly shooting up to muffle your laugh. 
“Hi,” he smiled, readjusting his grip on the ledge, “can I come in?”
“You wanna come in?” your eyebrows briefly shot up before you attempted a nonchalant, “y-yeah, sure,” your heart hammering against your ribcage at an impossible speed.
Expecting him to walk around to the front door and sneak his way in, he instead just pulled himself up and crawled directly into your room. 
“Hey,” he breathed as he found his footing.
“Hello,” you chuckled back, “you already said that. How many times do you plan on greeting me tonight?”
“As many times as you want me to,” he smirked, carefully catching your hands in his and consequently making your breathing become a little more difficult to manage with such dizzying contact. Staring down at your conjoined palms, he then weaved his fingers with yours and spoke frankly, “so, about earlier…”
“Yeah?” you breathed, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. 
“That was-…” he cut his own sentence off with a long exhale, a fuzzy smile overtaking his features, his head lightly shaking as his eyes finally lifted to meet yours. 
Biting down on your bottom lip, you hoped that you had caught on to the unspoken message, “…it was?” 
Vision flickering down to your bitten lips, he nodded softly and confirmed, “it was,” though the kiss he then pulled you into was really what sealed the deal for your youthful brain. 
“This is crazy,” you managed to utter between hungry pecks. 
“Too crazy?” he pulled back a bit, hands rooted on either side of your head. 
“No, just-…” you felt in that moment as if you could faint, “you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this…”
“Oh, yeah?” he breathed out a smile before softly capturing your lips once more. 
With your hands rooted tightly in his shirt, his hot skin burned through the light cotton, “is this really happening?”
“What do you think is happening?” he challenged playfully, his hands descending, running down your spine. 
“Are we really about to-, you know…” you uttered nervously.  
“Only if you want us to,” he replied, only for your heightened nerves to finally sink in, “wait, have you not-…” cheeks burning up, you shyly shook your head, “ever?”
“No…” you confessed, an automatic, “I’m sorry…” swiftly leaving your timid lips. 
“No, no, that’s alright, that’s okay,” he rushed to reassure you, a hand flying up to cup your flush cheek. 
Searching his eyes in the moonlight, “you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t mind?” your brows furrowed, doubting his unexpectedly copious comfort. 
Attempting to hide a smirk, he disclosed, “actually find it really hot, so no, Y/n, I don’t mind.”
“Oh…” you breathed, eyes growing wide, “okay.”
Watching you gingerly, he checked once more, “but, you do want to?”
“Yes,” the reply flew from your lungs out of fear that he would take it back, “please.”
“Okay,” he smiled softly, pulling you back in, “but please promise that you will tell me if you’ve had enough, wanna slow down, pause, anything,” eyes flickering up to the corner of the ceiling to list off, “kick, scream, whisper, I don’t care how, just let me know, okay?”
Letting your actions do the talking, you reached up and tugged him down to seal it with a kiss, “okay,” you eventually smiled against his own. After stealing a few additional propitious pecks, your hands trekked down his torso, feeling his muscles flex beneath your travelling touch as they eventually came to a halt at the bottom of his shirt, your fingers weaving in the fabric before you pulled back to ask softly, “may I?”
A gentle chuckle fanned out across your features as he promptly raised his arms up enough for you to tug the soft cotton over his head. It was in no way the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it sure felt like it as the shirt hazily drop from your fingers at the breathtaking sight. 
Running his palms reassuringly down your upper arms, your eyes then flickered between his own and the belt he wore, asking him for permission with your glances. 
When his pants hit the floor, so did your jaw, a reaction in which he couldn’t help but smugly flourish in, your eyes glued to the intimidating tent tight within his black boxers, he adoringly plucked up your speechless face and softened the blow with a kiss that took your breath away.
His lips then began to wander, over your jaw, down your neck, and when your heavy lids blinked open, you saw his towering presence begin to shrink down onto his knees before you. Fingers tightly fisting the flowy fabric of your nightgown, he nuzzled his face into your softness on his slow descent, practically growling as he gently nipped at your covered boobs, inhaling your scent in deeply as his fingers came up to lightly teased the pebbly nipples poking him through the material. 
Slowly exploring your form over your clothes, gazing up at you with his soulful eyes, he soon settled on his knees. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, he slowly began to plant fluttering pecks all across your exposed thighs, his palms likewise gently caressing your legs. The comforting contact of his slowly ascending touch soon found the hem of your nightgown, gradually lifting it up and granting his lips the access to dance up towards your hips, the kisses occasionally coming dangerously close to soaked panties, though never quite meeting either. 
Leaning back, one hand held up your sleepwear as he took in the sight of what effect he had on you. Dragging his other over your goosebump-ridden flesh, he then boldly slid a few of the fingers under the strip of your underwear that stretched over your left hip, securely hooking them there before extending his broad thumb and swiping it over the wet patch adoring your panties. 
“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” he asked huskily as your brows knitted together at the pleasure of his teasingly grazing your covered clit, your wayward arms curling up against your chest, unintentionally pressing your tits together for him. 
“N-no,” your breath hitched, eyes fighting to stay open. 
Leaning forward, he placed a gentle peck over your covered slit, your pussy throbbing beneath his kiss as he glanced up to gauge your reaction, “is it okay?” his hot breath fanned across your centre. 
Finding it impossible to speak when he flashed you that look, you simply nodded eagerly and whimpered as his thumb pressed down harder, rolling your swollen pearl over the soaked cotton. 
Growing impatient, though also fearing that he’d make you cum before any of your clothing came off, you fervently lowered your fingers and began to tug your underwear down, Ari swiftly catching on and finishing the job himself.
“Fuck,” he stared, the sight nearly knocking the wind out of him, “you’re incredible…” 
Nerves still growing under his adoring gaze, you found yourself promptly pulling his physique back up, tugging him close enough for your lips to crash against his own out of hope that it could soothe your understandable tensions. 
Fingers still tangled in your nightgown, palming you hungrily through it as your lips ravaged each other’s, your bodies were so close that you nearly climbed him like a tree, though as you then momentarily parted for a breath of much-needed air, he impatiently yanked the shift up over your head and tossed it to the floor where most of his clothing lied in a crumbled pile. 
Plucking you up with surprising ease, you felt as your core soaked his bulge on the short journey to your bed. Cradling you against him as he sat down on the edge, his tongue danced over yours as you settled on his lap, the light night breeze, blowing through the still open window, washed over your nude body, though the mild summer air wasn’t to blame for the shiver that ran down you spine. 
Giving your tits a needy squeeze, he then murmured, “I feel like my eyes have been closed my whole life,” a hushed moan rushed out of him as you rocked your centre against his, the hardness so deliciously nudging against you, “how have I not seen that you’ve been right under my nose this whole time?”
“I was just a kid,” you stated, threading your fingers in his hair, “we both were.”
“Yeah, well you’re sure as fuck not that anymore,” he snaked a hand down between your tangled forms, sighing longingly as your abundant arousal soaked his fingers. “Has no one really ever touched you here before?” he asked you brashly as he strummed your clit, “not even just a little bit?”
“No, never anywhere,” your nose bumped against his, “only ever kissed, but it never felt like this,” your lips grazed his once more, pointing out the spark. 
A sharp gasp left your body as Ari’s middle finger breached your trembling opening after teasingly nudging it for what felt like an eternity. Already being agonisingly fired up before your clothes even hit the floor, now that you felt his thick digit tenderly pumping inside of you, working you up for more of his fingers, as well as his hot breath tickling the rabid pulse clear on your neck, it seemed like an impossible task to stop the crash that was about to transpire.
Broad thumb steady on your puffy clit, he just managed to slide his ring finger in beside the other before your world came tumbling down around you.
Crumbling down, your face nuzzled into his sturdy shoulder as your pussy clenched onto his now motionless fingers for dear life. With his free hand gently stroking up and down your back, he breathed, “you wanna keep going or was that enough?” tilting his chin to plant a soothing peck on your hairline as you regained your breath. 
“More,” your hazy voice vibrated against his skin, “I wanna feel you, I wanna feel all of you.”
“Well, you should probably know that I don’t have any condoms with me,” he reluctantly informed you, “so we can still do a lot of fun stuff, but we properly shouldn’t do everything-,” the rest of his sentence then crumbled as you hastily jumped up and yanked open the small drawer in your bedside table, “what are you doing?”
Pushing aside the books you used as a cover, you picked up a slim, flashy box containing the lacking item in question and showed it to him, “one of my friends gave it to me as a joke for my last birthday,” you explained in an adorably timid manner.
Blinking back at you, he then let out a genuine laugh, the warm and relieved sound rumbling within the room as you felt the sensation of your juices running down your inner thighs.
“You’re so amazing, you know that right?” he bubbled, pulling you back into his arms and capturing your lips in an adoring kiss. 
Hooking the tips of your fingers in the waistband of his boxers as you kissed him back, it took you a second to muster up the courage to tug them off. Peeking down, you swiftly let out a breathy, “oh my god,” as you watched his intimidating girth spring out. Blinking up at him with wide eyes, then back down again, he attempted to swipe the small box from your hands, but you wouldn’t let him, determined to try yourself.  
“You’re not gonna hurt me, baby,” he poked fun at how feathery and careful your touch was as you gingerly rolled the latex on. Gentle pride blossomed on your face in the form of a smile as you successfully finished the task, Ari then promptly scooted you both back further onto the mattress, a manoeuvre that caused your torso to drop down, your back melting into the mattress from the way he had manhandled you into place. 
Resting on his knees with your legs draped over each of his thick thighs, he smiled down at your molten form and yanked your hips closer, “come here,” he uttered hoarsely over the giggle the rollercoaster of a move triggered within you, although the laugh quickly faded away as the hefty weight of his dick in his hand came down to tap your puffy clit.
Watching with heavy lids as a dollop of spit dropped from his lips and down upon your already sodden folds, he then lavishly spread it around your pussy with his hard length, coating the excess over himself. Fucking your petals, parting the mess, and nudging your clit till you were wiggling out of your skin, his hands then slid under your spine and pulled you back up into his lap. 
Hugging your arms around his neck, your eyes never left his as you gently lifted yourself up, one of his burly forearms swiftly scooping under your bottom in support as he dragged the flush head of his cock through your dripping heat, your forehead dropping down against his at the buzzing bliss. 
So slowly that it felt as if time had stopped itself, you sank down, gasping as only the tip stretched you out. 
“Shit,” he uttered quietly, fingertips digging into your ass to control himself from not just slamming you down all the way. Forgetting how to breathe, overwhelmed by what little you had received, by what little you felt brave enough to conquer, you gazed back at him as he whispered, “you feel so good…” sensing your pussy clench around his vast girth at his silky words, your eyes fluttered closed at the intensity, “so fucking warm…” he sloppily planted a few comforting pecks along your flush cheek, “gripping onto me so good…” the hand not under you drifted up to trace the curve of your spine, your lungs jaggedly expanding underneath his palm.
Unhurriedly, your body eventually relaxed and gently began to move, shallowly fucking the very tip of him, even though just that already felt like more than you could handle, the way the bulbous head stretched you out being unimaginable. 
“Oh my god,” you whined as the hand on your back slid around your form, sweetly coming up to brush the wild hair out of your face as he stared deeply into your eyes, “it’s so much!”
“Is it too much?” he asked, burying his face in the swell of your tit.
“I don’t-, I-,” you choked out, incapable of deciphering the correct answer at this staggering moment, “it’s just so much!” blubbering as his lips captured your pebbly nipple, “you’re so much, you’re just so-, oh my god!”
On the verge of cumming again, your hand shot down to rub your clit, his enthusiastic words crashing into you like a wave, “yeah, rub your clit,” grunting as he craned his head to look at the crude vision, “rub it, make yourself cum, come on, I can feel how close you are.”
With lewd moans reverberating off the walls, your body trembled in his grasp as your pussy clamped so tightly that it completely expelled his throbbing tip. Hearing him quietly curse into your ear, you slumped down against his form, your cores still aligned just right for the essence of him to slip back into place, your limps desperately clinging onto his shoulders as you caught your breath.
“This doesn’t even feel like real life,” you mumbled into his skin, the tip of his cock still feeling like a rock inside of you.
Gently tilting your head back, his eyes found your dazed ones as his deep voice washed over you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, “it is real life.”
Lip trembling with emotion, you asked, “you promise?”
With the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he let his forehead meet yours as he verified softly, “promise,” thumb soothingly sweeping across your cheek, “you need me to pinch you or something just to make sure?” 
Giggling airily at his bad joke, the rumble then swiftly morphed into a hiss as your sensitive cunt consequently contracted around him, “oh fuck, how are you still so big?”
“Uhm,” he chuckled, “I’m sorry?” 
“I just wanna feel all of you,” you whined light-heartedly, “but I don’t know how I’m ever gonna get there because it already feels like you’re all the way up here,” you motioned in the direction of your solar plexus.
You knew that you could technically just let go and sink down, but it felt too much like standing at the end of a diving board, too scared to jump even though you knew you’d be okay, the rush of the drop was just too much and led you to chicken out every time. 
“You really wanna feel the rest?” he asked, readjusting his hold on you.
Staring back into his eyes, you exhaled into a pout, “I do. I really, really do.”
Capturing your lips in a kiss, you then felt the world tilt as Ari dipped you both down until your back hit the mattress. Distracting you with his tongue, dancing it against your own, he abruptly began to move his hips, fluidly thrusting them forward till his pelvis nuzzled against your own. All the air in your lungs was knocked out as his kiss muffled the loud moan you let out.
“There you go,” he smirked down at you, settling his arms on either side of your face, caging you in and declaring him as your entire reality, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 
Incapable of replying in a more eloquent way than just primal moans, your thighs trembled on either side of him as he slowly pulled back out till just the memory of him remained. Brows knitted together, you glanced down to take in the striking sight of his fat girth splitting you apart. 
“Look at how good we look together,” he followed your eye line, strings of your mess keeping his pelvis connected to yours like a carnal spiderweb, even when he slid out, reaching down to briefly glide the underside of him through your sloppy petals, ending by giving your puff a tap so rude that your entire body jumped beneath him, “such a good girl, taking it like a champ,” he buried himself once again, groaning lowly in bliss at the pleasure, “fucking knew you could take it,” he then emphasised each word he uttered next with a merciless thrust, “every god damn inch,” rocking into you so hard that the bed rattled beneath you.
With his dark eyes fixed upon you, absorbing the way your features contorted in ecstasy, the desperate sounds of your wetness were more overbearing than the clapping of skin colliding. 
Sneaking another breathless kiss, he then dipped down and nipped along your neck, “fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, lips wandering up to graze the shell of your ear, “sucking me in so fucking good,” fingers trailing down your quivering form, they dug into your thighs and primally tugged them up, resting your legs upon his sturdy shoulder and bending you in half like a pretzel, “best fucking pussy ever.” 
“A-ari!” you whimpered, completely spellbound by the intense sensation of how impossibly deep he went, shaking under him like a leaf as you felt yourself tumble over the edge again. 
Tilting his head to catch your eyes, watching how hard they fought to stay open, “I know, I know,” he simply murmured, “don’t push me out, I know you’re gonna cum, but please keep me inside, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel you,” not changing his speed one bit as you felt your pussy begin to shower him with love, soaking the sheets below as your cunt choked his cock.
You didn’t even register how obscenely loud you got as the overwhelming orgasm seemed to go on forever, his own selfish efforts in relishing in the sensation did nothing but draw it out even further, his rhythmic thrusts stayed steady till he’d emptied himself in the latex and you had nearly passed out from pleasure. 
Peering up at him through your wispy lashes, tangled in the dewy aftermath, you began to giggle softly.
“What?” he chuckled groggily.
“I-… no, never mind,” you squashed the thought, “it’s silly…” 
“What is it?” his palm slid up against the side of your cheek. 
Vision flickering from one of his eyes to the next, you timidly spoke from the heart, “it's just that my wish came true. I always wanted you to be my first,” an unreadable expression crossed his features at the softness of your confession. He didn’t say anything, simply reached out and kissed you bittersweetly, though your blissed-out antennas didn’t catch onto that detail in the slightest, “you know, Evergreen isn’t too far away from where you work…” 
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You didn’t know what hour you had finally fallen asleep, but apparently, at some point, you had, as you now found yourself stirring from your dreams, soar and a hazy smile still plastered upon your lips. Gliding your hand over the covers in search of your neighbour, you didn’t bump into his form and blinked open your eyes to find that he had gone.
Trying not to freak out, you figured that maybe he didn’t wanna get into a sticky situation if your parents were to spontaneously waltz in at the crack of dawn and had therefore sneaked out. 
Though when you peeked out your window to spy through his it was completely void of any sign of life. Could he unexpectedly have gotten called forcing him back to work or was there another reasonable explanation for his absence?
Shrugging on the minty, terrycloth robe that hung on the knob of your closet door, you strolled out of your door. Entering the kitchen where your mother already sat, she glimpsed up from her newspaper and flashed you a bright smile, “good morning, honey.”
“Morning, mom,” you cracked open a cupboard, seized a glass and held it under the tab which you swiftly turned on. 
“Oh,” she excitedly perked up from behind you, “have you seen what finally came in the mail?” glass full, you turned to see the opened envelope she was referring to, the swirling words that were scribbled upon the cracked open card instantly made you’re your blood run cold and the glass nearly slip out of your grasp, “I still think it’s silly that they actually sent out ours with everyone else’s and didn’t just toss it over the hedge, but sure, I do get that there is something very romantic about sending and receiving wedding invitations in the mail.”
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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aconflagrationofmyown · 7 months
Text
but then…Gigi
Part 4 - A Big Daddy Elvis Fanfiction
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Previous chapter link for context, picking up where we left off
I owe so much thanks to my friends for all their help and input and the joy they bring me, thanks to them and my precious followers this fluffy/wacky little universe even exists. I’ve never had so much fun on a collaboration before in my life, I love y’all so.
Warnings: 18+, sexual content and heavy themes… ok so this is smutty and fluffy, right? But still there are some things that might be offensive regarding narrator’s voice so I want to warn about those and distinguish them from my own opinions. For much of this part we are in Elvis’ head and, due to it being summer of ‘77 -it’s a bit of a rollercoaster in there. Please be warned there are throwaway lines reflecting poor self esteem, depression, misogyny, severe health issues and the use of the word fat to describe oneself negatively.
Enjoy
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Elvis feels a pang of sympathy for his boys’ hysteria when he runs into a crowd of fans as he himself sits panicked in the Stutz, engine off and his shades on, watching Gigi check that the coast is clear on the sidewalk and buzz into her apartment building -in just his jacket and panties. Her sandals are gone somewhere, too, probably back at Graceland. Only that anklet left on like some harem jangle.
Her sooties must be burning on the sunbaked concrete, maybe that’s why she’s skipping everywhere she goes like a damn foal. His blood pressure feels like it’s skyrocketing just watching this show and the fact she looks like she’s in her element terrifies and excites him and -getting to know Gigi is a dangerous hobby.
As shameless as a toddler that one, and every bit as unpersuaded about needing to give a shit about things like flashing her butt cheeks for all of Memphis.
Her tanned butt cheeks.
Which brings up all sorts of questions he’s too scared to ask and will have to address with Tammy. He’s sure she’s to blame for nude sunbathing, he just hopes that wildcat has enough decency to do it privately. Very privately. Hopefully in a bullet proof bunker if Gigi is with her. This girl has been directionless and fatherless for too long; Elvis’ mouth dries out in anticipation of being that guiding, molding, firm hand in her life -the rest of his body too sedated to respond normally although he feels that weird ass dribble his pecker has recently started to do when it’s very much willing but can’t physically swell to poke a gal. He thoroughly regrets not wearing underpants to catch some of this… horny… pre-cum…incontinence…the baby blue of his tracksuit showing a small stain on his leg. Just the size of a penny. Maybe a quarter.
He takes his glasses off and rubs at his sweaty eyes.
Gigi is standing in the opened doorway, waving him in with a huge, expectant smile on her face, and feeling something he hasn’t felt since 1955 sneakin’ into Barbra’s room, he lumbers out his side of the car and doesn’t even bother to make sure no one’s looking, even though she whipped her head around to clock their surroundings like top paid security for his sake. If someone sees and thinks he’s going into a college girl’s dorm to corrupt her then they’d be right, and it'll make far prettier gossip than what’s coming out in Red’s book next month.
He slips past her and she runs her hand along his chest as he goes by, giddy and fond. She waves to someone behind his back,
“Hey Paolo! Good afternoon!” Elvis turns just in time to see an old shriveled man in an undershirt waving wildly at her as the door shuts.
“Who’s that?”
“Our repairman. Sweetest little man.” Gigi gushes and Elvis motions for her to lead the way up the stairs while speculating with nauseating surety on what Gigi might be found wearing -or not wearing- when dear sweet shriveled perverted Paolo makes up a problem with her sink and comes into her apartment. “He’s taught me how to make Limoncello jello! You won’t find anything more refreshing!”
“How very epicurean for a regular, ole handyman.” he can’t help but grumble, usually highly self-aware and unbiased for the potential learnedness of common folks. He knows he’s one. But right now he wants to make a carpet from Paolo’s nose hair.
“What does epicurean mean?” Gigi doens’t without missing a beat as she unlocks her own front door.
Now they’re back on solid, Elvis-worthy ground, he can smile indulgently as he enters her space and explain, “Somebody who likes to in-duuulge in the luxurious and the sensuuaal, it was a whole philosophy.”
“Oooh, that explains why I didn’t understand.” she giggles, “I’ve flunked philosophy twice and I’ve got a whole pile of papers over there that’s supposed to be homework but a hero of mine invited me to go swimming at his place so, there they sit!” she shows off a rather alarming stack of papers next to the poorly made up bed, half hidden by the swim suits and cut offs strewn about the carpet. “Sorry for the mess, a lotta the girls got ready over here and wrecked it. Half of it is mine though, you should’ve seen the things they suggested I wear for you! Thongs, Elvis! Actual thongs! And here I was unsure if you felt just fatherly towards me or what so I- I didn’t wear a thong.”
Elvis takes a seat on her bed since he figures they’re now past being modest about what they’re gonna do and asks, “What’s a thong?”
“You don’t- it’s this sorta thing.” Gigi is a little shocked that this man of the world doesn't know such a thing and spins around a few times before finding a very small scrap of fabric and bending over, she picks it up. Elvis forgets what she was getting off the floor for a few minutes before she starts spreading the fabric strings apart and pronouncing, “This is a thong!”
Elvis squints his eyes as if trying to see a ship on the edge of the horizon or something, “I don’t get it.” he says at last, “How’s it work? Go around your neck?”
“No, silly!” she giggles even harder in shocked exasperation, “It’s panties.”
“No way in hell.” he sounds awed, “No way, how in tarnation does that work?”
“They’re like…very little, small, tiny panties!” she explains with a hyped tone as if the more enthusiastic she is the quicker he’ll get the mechanism.
“That -those ain’t gonna hold or cover nothin’.” he insists, “Now you’re the one pullin’ my leg.” he notices there’s a magazine with his face on it stashed under the teetering bedside lamp and makes mental note of that before leaning back against her massive stuffed bear.
“They’re not supposed to work, they’re supposed to be sexy?” she tries again before playfully putting them on her head and striking a pose.
“Sexy, hmm?” he rumbles, his eyes twinkling and she knows she’s got his interest at least, whether he’s fibbing ignorance on knowing about thongs or not, she can’t tell. Suddenly it strikes her that Elvis Presley himself is lounging on her bed, leaned against the stuffy she grinds herself on to the thought of him pretty regularly. Suddenly having his jacket zipped at all feels oppressive from the rush of heat that sight floods her with.
“If they were for comfort we’d just go without.” she laughs, “They dig up into your…” she looks about before dropping her voice and taking a couple steps closer to him, “butt crack.” she blushes furiously at having to name it and his fingers itch to do unspeakable things to this little girl.
“Show me.” he says, low and steady and a little removed, just cool enough to be commanding, just warm enough to make her feel (very) admired. He sees her sweet blush turn into droopy lidded arousal before his very eyes and with meek acceptance she hooks her fingers into her swim bottoms without a pause.
They drop to the floor in a nylon puddle between her legs. Just like that. Simple as that, her bare little pussy lips are peaking out from his jacket at him and she smiles gently at his shock as she hooks her legs through the thong’s leg holes and shimmy’s the stupid excuse for lingerie up her stems. “It’s just you, daddy.” she explains in a confidential whisper that melts his heart.
“Yeah, jus’ f’me, baby girl.” he makes a pronouncement of his own, hushed and boyish and her own heart feels too big for her chest at the way his blue eyes somehow soften in wonder at her exposed self. She had expected something rougher, ravenous, impetuous. Not this revenant appreciation that bends his whole frame towards her with open mouthed puffs of longing. He aches, wishing he’d brought his Polaroid to snap this memory forever, add it to his collection. A little something tangible he could thumb at it in the future and remember this night when an terribly hot, painfully young, big tittied woman had wanted him.
“Will ya do a lil spin f’me? Wouldn’t want that wedgie to go unappreciated, now would we? So sweet to try it on for me.” he coos and then hums deep and appreciative as she does a couple slow spins for him, that humm she’s only ever heard in amplified concert footage sending sparks to her very toes.
“You like them?” she asks, toes curling in nervousness for his verdict.
He lounges back and strokes his mouth a few times while cocking his head to the side. She’s breathing so heavy he thinks if he even blew on her she’d come. “They’re practical.” he decides definitively.
“Are they?” she sighs with relief.
“Mhmm,” he mumbles soberly, “quite. For what we’re up here to do, they’re practical.” he adds this slowly and doesn't miss her shudder or the way her eyes light up in relief that they’re getting to the point. He likes that she’s letting him lead, she’s a good girl. “Step closer baby.” he stays lounging so she does all the work and when she gets to the edge of the bed he keeps motioning with his fingers until she’s kneeling on it herself, clambering forward over his lap. “See, when a man makes a meal of a lady’s lil garden, s’real important to have unrestricted access.” he proves his point by slipping his index finger along that abominably small seam of fabric that’s poofy and filled out with bare labia lips.
“Daddy.” she wails at the contact, shaking apart already and that along with her little place has his head thudding some kinda way. She’s gripping onto his neck, near clawing whatever part of him she can grab, close to tears again like a child not getting what she wants. The art of the tease seems lost on her, she’s so hungry.
He’s gotta ask. “Honey, y-yo- honey you ain’t actin’ younger for my sake, are ya?”
“Oh no,” her face turns down again and he’s done it again, insulted her somehow, “you find me immature?”
“No!” he shouts and then tries to moderate himself, “No, no it’s jus’ that -you’re a baby, thas all.”
“Well,” her grin is guileless, “you’ll just have to bear with me, big daddy, I’m all so excited I’ve got Elvis Presley in my room! Elvis Presley! You’re Elvis Presley.”
“I-I-I am.” he admits, perturbed, “What’s wi- why Big Daddy?”
“Cause that’s what you are!” She says it like she’s assuring a pageant queen she won the prized title. “Elvis Presley’s about to eat my pussy.” she murmurs to herself as she kicks her feet and he recalls yet again that he is sat down on her fluffy pink bed for a reason. He tips her over into the sheets.
“So uh, you’ve thought of this before, hmm?” he smirks slyly and reaches out to clasp an ankle in his big, ringed hand, his tanned digits encircling it entirely and he thumbs at the veiny soft spot beneath the ankle.
Gigi moans at his slight pressure.
“That’s a pressure point for the reproductive system, did you know that sir?” she is as eager about information as he is, and clever too.
“So that’s why all the girls lose it.” he hums with a laugh, “No, Gigi, I didn’t know tha’, you like gettin’ rubbed?”
“YES!” she sighs so loudly it’s like a little wind tunnel through the room, “Though it doesn’t happen much.” That makes his heart hurt in sympathy and he adds his other hand to knead her toned calf, those legs of hers spreading jello, just like he calculated they would, “I love to rub folks though! Love givin’ people rubs.”
“Who do ya rub?” Elvis is cross at this new information.
“Oh, anybody who needs it!” she makes it worse.
“Lotta demand for that at Uni?”
“Yeah, so many sore athletes after games.” she is perfectly sober about it, while so enthused he wants to murder every person those sweet hands have descended upon in soothing kindness. “But I think you’re the best I have ever had do it to me, oh Lord you’ve got magic in those hands.”
He’s tempted to tell her how true that statement is but he can’t bear her laughing at him right now so he leans further across the bed and inches towards her knees with his squeezes and tries to elicit more of those moans.
“Oh god I can’t believe Elvis Presley is rubbing my legs.” she gasps again to the ceiling and it’s this youthful narration of her life happenings that makes him think of his Yisa and if he could he’d put both of these little darlings back into their fragile eggs to keep them away from the cruel world.
“So, you done thought of this before, baby girl?” he asks, casting a little smug look over at that ponderous stack of his records and the TV set stationed right at the foot of her bed. He knows the answer already, thanks to Tammy, but it nags him, the question of which Elvis she was touching herself to after her first visit to his house. Her closed eyes and near drooling mouth give him the idea that if he’s good enough at this, puts enough effort into being what he used to be naturally, she can keep those pretty eyes closed and he can morph back into whatever daydream she’s once had. He could give this pretty little girl a little time capsule and before she’s fully awake, slip away again, leave before she recalls it was the gift of an old man, his potency gone to seed but his love for women and their secret parts just as strong.
He bends over, gut digging into his diaphragm and knocking out his wind, presses a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Tell’me ‘bout when you thought of me.” he murmurs into her warm skin. He notices he leaves goosebumbs in the wake of his touch.
“Mmm?” she’s goners with just this firm kneading of her limbs, breathing heavy and sedated from lust.
“Have ya thought of me when you’ve played with yourself?” he’s a little sterner than he should be, just because he knows the answer and wants an honest reply.
“Oh yes.” she gives it, unabashed.
“Is it my movies? Ya watch my movies when ya touch y’self?” he prods, working up to that baby soft stretch of inner thigh that still seems like the most fragile of all God’s creation, like cotton Candy holding ligament and muscle together by some miracle. “Or ya prop up that record right there?” he pulls his head up long enough to point at the foremost record cover in the stack -Live From Madison Square Garden, it reads, and features him silhouetted against black, crouched in a white jumpsuit.
A more mature option; interesting.
Gigi opens her eyes and cranes her head to see what he’s pointing at. “Oh, yeah, sometimes that one,” she nods, “it’s the closest thing I could find.”
“Closest to what, the genuine article?” he snickers in judgment, “It’s goddamn cardboard, at least watch a movie like a normal pervert.”
“The closest to how you are now!” she pouts adamantly, “You’re so…smooth… in all your movies. Nothing like how I know ya when you drive past on the street.”
Well, that’s something else, even if Elvis doesn't quite get what that something is. It’s absurd, the fact she existed all along on some sidewalk he sped past. “How’s that now, honey?” he asks.
“I couldn’t find anything closer to what you are now!” she explains, “Nothing since Aloha and -well I like that one, don’t get me wrong but I,” she bites her lip and a skittish flinch settles into her eyes.
“What about that one, darlin?” he begs softly.
“Well I like how hairy and strong ya look but,” she doesn’t look down or away when she gets to her point, instead she bends forward to be nearer to him, to hold his hands as they lay on her legs, to peer into his eyes gently, “you seem too sad in it for me to -to use it like that.”
He’s touched, so much so he swallows hard and dips his head to kiss her knobby little kneecap. “T-that were a rough time in my life.” he admits and his voice has gone wrecked. It is odd beyond words how he feels like she’s a child to be protected but just like a child at a sleepover he can duck under the covers and admit his worst fears to her.
It all goes back to being proportionally heartbreaking as Gigi leans forward and makes him lean back, clambering methodically back into his lack as if she owns the damn space, holding his furry cheeks tenderly as she licks those luscious lips and slots them against his. This he is familiar with, nothing odd at all about this age old ritual of him being seductively depressed and a girl soothing it away with her tongue and hands in his hair.
He allows himself the liberty of stroking her bare back beneath his jacket, figuring if he’s gonna lick beaver he might as well do a little seducing beforehand, cherish her like she deserves, give them both the works. As much as he can give with this dull headache and the meds making him feel so leaden he could fall asleep in seconds. He takes a breath and tries to clear his head, focusing on kissing her well, kissing her better than any of those stupid young jocks ever managed.
Back at making a case to her that he could make her happy. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying that argument when a couple decades worth of broken hearts and homes behind him suggest otherwise.
“Wanna see what I used to pretend it was you?” she tempts against his lips as they surface for air, sounding so demure yet utterly unrepentant even as she confides, “After you petted me and sent me home I needed you so bad, couldn’t find anything that felt like you now, so I shut the tv right off. Grabbed my stuffy ‘cause he was fuzzy and had a belly like you and then I grabbed…here, wait here, don’t you move now!“
Her little butt is already bouncing out the room into the en-suite before she finishes the sentence and he is left to sit on the bed and await her return, processing the fact she had wanted hair and a corpulent figure.
Bizzare taste, definitely dealing with father issues, painfully sweet.
He groans in recognition that she’s entirely to his own taste.
She comes back holding the most bulbous bottle of shampoo he’s ever seen in his life. The size of his damn fist easily, bright yellow and shaped at the top like like a lemon an- hell it’s even named “Lemon-Something-Or-Other”.
“I used this!” she proclaims with a giggle that jiggles her whole body.
Elvis just stares, torn between impressed and horrified. “You’re tellin’ me that…thang…fit up your lil cooch?”
“Well, no,” she admits, mood immediately deflating in disappointment with herself, “but I’m working on it! Or maybe I don’t have to, now that I’ve got the real thing, as you call it!”
Gigi bites her lip and winks in an attempt to be seductive and it’s the most ludicrously jarring thing Elvis can imagine, he roars with laughter at her art of being a cock tease without trying and a total clown when she does try.
Oh fuck he’s in love. Yeah, already established that awhile back but, it’s just, it’s hitting him again.
“I think you’ll find the real thing a bit disappointin’ by comparison.” he wheezes, too amused to be insecure.
“Oh really?” she perks up in palpable relief, “Oh thank jesus! That thing’s huge and I was gonna try for you but- but -but it’s huge! And I was just gauging from what I saw floppin’ around in your tracksuit that night and I was trying to not be obvious, so I couldn’t exactly clock it real good but it looked awfully wide, like a paper towel roll when it’s halfway gone and this was the only thing I could find like it, I wasn’t going to use anything of Tammy’s and besides they weren’t fat either so I just…” She trails off with a shrug, still standing there before him holding the fuckin’ Lemon Drop Shampoo.
She’d tried not to be obvious, she says, but he’d caught her staring well below his belt half a dozen times in two days. “So,” Elvis is still wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes, “so ya used a shampoo bottle and a teddy bear.”
“Yeah.”
“And did it work?” his eyes darken at the prospect of hearing her tell him this naughty story.
“Sorta.”
“How can it ‘sorta’ work?”
“I came,” Gigi sighs, “but I felt so empty..after. Cried myself to sleep” her embarrassed giggle does not deceive him from the certainty that she’s telling the truth.
“Oh baby, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asks her and God Almighty all at once.
“Hold me, please?” she whispers.
“Course, baby. Nothin’ I’d rather do, get over here,” He holds out his arms and she cruises in at a deceptively fast speed, colliding back into his chest and tucking her face into the crease of his neck, she’s pressing kisses there into that sweaty fold and he rubs her back, traces the dip of her waist, the slow curve outwards of her hips, thumbs at the flimsy material of her panties. Feeling her soft skin and treasuring it. Wondering what she’s thinking and not knowing she’s thanking God she gets to be held by him.
“You make feel so safe.” her breath ghosts over his face and he’s not sure how it’s so fresh and lovely after scarfing down burgers and cherry coke but he can’t get enough and he grabs her face as gently as he can manage with this much wonder filling him in a rush.
He’s pretty sure she ain’t ever had a chance to kiss with tongue, she’s eager to slip hers in but she’s got that petrified immobility of a gal who’s never gotten the chance to give and take, just give while some stupid rash boy slobbers and knocks her teeth.
Elvis is quite good with his tongue.
He flicks at her tongue, he waits, taps her butt until she gets his prompt. She flicks. He trails it alongside her own, he waits. He taps. She mimics. They get a good commerce going and soon she’s squirming and writhing in his lap while he stays put, his patience and experience a buoy for her as she flounders with so much desire she doesn’t know how to cope beyond undulating against him and tugging at his hair, their mouths wide and uncaring, devouring.
It’s fun with a girl leveraging down on him from his lap, one might think it would put him at a disadvantage but it doesn’t, he turns her silly head with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, and she’s just a dolly up there for him to work against his mouth. Rather like how he’s gonna work her pussy if they make it that far. For now, there’s this age old dance and her pretty breaths.
He sucks her tongue and she lets out a cry that’s distorted by the absence of any control over her own tongue and suddenly he can feel her move more frantically, fumbling between them until he hears the zzzz of the zipper as she undoes her jacket front and frees her full breasts like the thin cloth was suffocating her. It becomes clearer what she needs when she continues to fumble between them, unsatisfied, until he feels his own taught closure opening and the fan air hits him and goosebumps spread and shame flares and then it’s unity. Their chests meeting, pressing, soft and warm and she shudders against him like she just touched a force field.
She mewls into his mouth again and traces his puffy lips with the tip of her tongue while he breathes. “Feels so right.” he realizes in a mumble.
“Mhmm.” she says as she presses more kisses to his panting mouth. Gigi reaches between them once more and he watches cross eyed from the closeness as she hefts one boob up and presses it between them more firmly, before repeating the procedure with the other until, until they are smashed to her satisfaction. Then she starts grinding, those fat titties of hers, against him with the rest of her- against his hairy, saggy man boobs, she’s dragging her nipples across him and worrying them red with his rough texture, her toes curling from the friction. Her nipples are pebbled and she’s crying out, can’t stop moaning or calling for God because he feels so good against her. Cradling her boob her fingers press selfishly against one of his own nipples and lil Elvis wants to fight against his induced state, desperate to twitch for this pretty girl’s attention. “Oh god, you’re so hairy, like a nest! So perfect and manly and, I’m gonna, let me, let me please, please oh god, feels so good!” she’s working herself up to a squealing frenzy going over one particular patch of ratted curls… from…rubbing her pretty nipples on his chest hair.
Elvis just sits there and computes, watches, like a green boy, Gigi’s cradled boobs, her gaping mouth, her long throat and her cramping widdle sooties. God, what he’d give to suck those curling little piggies.
He’s hot as a furnace, this man, and those coarse, wiry curls are zapping her already throbbing nipples until Gigi can’t seem to breathe, so much sensation crowding her senses but not where she needs. She grinds down on him, where they’ll join so perfectly, and she feels that perfectly fat cock of his wedged on top of his thick thighs that he can’t manspread for once with her on top of him. She reaches down and positions him through the silky track bottom until she can slide along, feeling the width of him parting her pussy lips even with the thong’s fabric obstructing. His pants are sticky to touch, even though he feels too heavy and floppy to be fully hard.
Elvis should kiss her again. Warn her he ain’t good for nothin’ before she gets her hopes up and he gets to humiliate himself like some useless old fuck.
“Daddy, daddy fill me up, daddy.” she beats him to it in the prettiest little beg he’s ever heard.
“Oh Gigi.” he groans compassionately before grabbing her hand and bringing it up away from his messy lil pecker, “I’s gone lick you, don’t you recall?”
“Yes but I’m past that, I need you inside me!” she gasps, grin growing by the second.
“Ah, yeah, well baby it’s a big deal, takin’ innocence and uh-“ he scratches the back of his head and she escapes his hold and her hand is back to it, squeezing his cock and it really does feel nice, in a head scratch sorta way. “Look, Gigi, honey, I’m sorry but lil Elvis is shy tonight.” he holds his breath as she slowly processes this.
She doesn’t retract her hand as she registers what he’s saying. “Aww, but I can kiss him!”
“M-m-maybe some other time?” he pleads like he’s asking a child to please let him get away with just five bedtime stories. Six is overkill and Daddy has work tomorrow.
She pouts briefly before bringing her sticky hand up to her mouth and licking her fingers like a barbarian. That sight alone almost fixes his damn ED. Gigi likes the light taste of him, humming in approval at the first taste like a baby trying candy for the first time.
“T-t-that means he likes ya, though.” he assures her like an idiot and she smiles around her digits.
She’s very sober and a little mournful, the way she keeps looking at him, not at all petulant or even the slightest bit contemptuous, just concerned and it primes some pump inside him to explain more than he ever should but he can’t seem to stop the words as they come out, “Had a migraine this mornin’ before ya came over and I wanted to be in ship-shape for some fun -fun with you- so I had to take some lil helpers for the head and they, well, they, they mess with…that.” he motions to his lap.
“Awww,” she laments, heartbroken as if he had to endure having his head sawn clean off, “you had a migraine? And you still had us over? Oh poor, sweet daddy!” she shifting in his lap to rub at the back of his head and into his hair and he tries to mumble assurances that it’s better now but they get lost in the glorious blubber of her frankly unnecessarily huge breasts that happen to be smashed in his face as she attends to his head. “I’ll put some oils on it- I’ve got a bathtub, we could put you in tha-”
“-Baby girl,” He laughs, excavating his chin from her cleavage, “it’s better now, I was just explainin’ the faulty mechanics. I ain’t always so stove up, didn’t want you thinking-“
“Oh I wouldn’t care!” she gushes intensely and he’s very worried that streak of the insane fan in her is larger than he thought but it’s too late, she’s caught him in her big tittied, huge nippled, anklet wearing trap, “I’d lick you and suck you and wiggle you inside me soft no matter what, all my days! I don’t care!”
“T-that’s real touching.” he murmurs in a daze. She’s perfect, every man’s wet dream - and he’s the damn lucky bastard that gets to have her. And he can’t even make full use of her.
“I’m gonna give you a back massage with some marjoram oil-“
“No, no you’re not.” he grabs at her to keep her forcefully on his lap, “I don’t need no hippy potions, I ain’t no witch’s experiment or an ole man. I’m here to eat beaver. Or…baby seal, with that bald thing.”
“You sure? I-“
“Gigi, be good.” he puts his finger to her lips and she freezes like a chastised bambi. “Good baby girl. Now you lay back f’me and spread those pretty legs. A man needs room to work his magic.”
“Ok.” she agrees in an excited whisper and tips out of his lap sideways onto the sheets, giving him a full view of her -nearly- naked self for the first time, completely serene and without artifice. He knew she'd be even worse without clothes, worse for his obsession and his indulgence and everything else but this -this is an Angel.
God, he really adores women. Best idea ever to make ‘em, and to make them with fat boobies and lil holes to rub peckers into and sweet faces to paint slimey and cute widdle toes to rub your balls against.
“Ok, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here.” he smirks and gets on his belly with a grunt, heaving himself up the bedsheets and in between her long legs, taking his fingers and moving aside that stupid little string they call underwear these days. “Oh lord, look at that.” he appreciates the pretty pink beauty of her and the smooth pale skin of her kitty, so delicate and girly and -he’s a little smitten. More than he expected. Which was an oversight with the way she keeps blowing his hopes out of the water.
“You’re the prettiest thing I ever did lay eyes on, sweetheart.” he swears with his whole heart, shuffling in closer and kissing her thigh.
Gigi cranes her neck and unsatisfied with the narrowed visuals says, “Wait, lemme prop up.” and stuffs a few pillows behind her back and sits up, legs spread wide and her smile pleased like she’s about to watch her favorite film, “Ok, now I can watch you. Go ahead, daddy.”
“Umm, alright.” he clears his head once more at the thought of her wanting to watch and dives in. Somehow he gets the feeling if he doesn’t go for it she’ll come in seconds anyway she’s so high strung and then he’ll have barely gotten his taste.
Furry, silky, warm -that’s how his hair and head feel beneath her hands, his fuzzy sideburns and his hair so little styled after the pool fluffs and tufts adorably and his cheeks puff out with his vigorous exertions and his sideburns chafe her thighs and his hands are everywhere at once -Gigi watches all these things and marvels in her heart at it. He’s very voracious about it while still having a great deal of -nuance- to it. Like a man who is in a watermelon eating competition, he may look rabid but if he’s won a few then he must have a calculated method down amid the mess.
The predominant feeling is comfortable intimacy. They are both surprised by it, she by the naturalness of watching the most famous face on planet earth smeared from her pleasure and rapturously content with her taste, he with the pleasant rightness of her legs squeezing his shoulders snuggly and her hands petting his hair away from his sweaty forehead. His scalp sweats the more he works and she rubs his neck as if mindful of the lurking migraine, as if she can only thank him for his touches by returning them.
She praises his tongue in breathy awe, “so long and pink and wet and oh-“
Nose buried in pink and wet and sweet womanliness Elvis hums his agreement. Peeking up through his lashes he can see the one hand not cradling his head is industriously tugging on those dark, large nipples of hers. He grinds himself against the bed on pure instinct. Another day, another night, he’s gotta get those large nipples of hers in his mouth.
She calls him beautiful. Again and again. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful, worse in person, more than I ever imagined, in my wildest-“
Again and again. Beautiful, she says. More than dreams. More, he’s more and more till Gigi’s praise dissolve into shrieks and pants, screams that whimper out into the low apartment ceiling as the afternoon sun dims, as he keeps going until they build again. And again, her hips are nothing if not insistent on grinding up against his mouth. The room smells of sweat and pleasure and sun-in. She’s vocal in her gratitude, persistent in returning his touch, petting him to say thank you when she finds she can’t form coherent sentences.
Eventually there is no more.
Just peace, and him, heaving back his breath against her thighs in a pussy-drunk stupor, and her shaking from seizing one too many times. His scalp is burning beneath her hands, his neck too. Inflamed and angry, she thinks of how much he loves to give. Wished she’d looked at the clock, something to tell the girls about. Just how many minutes, hours, days? he’d spent pleasing her.
“Good?” he asks in a hopeful little slur and the pink of his cheeks and the shiny glimmer on his nose is so childlike and content in his pouty snooze that her heart melts and she curls over him as best she can and squeezes.
“It was everything.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she breathes into his burning ear, “I’m hooked.”
His laugh rumbles the whole bed, “Me too, baby girl.”
Their skin is sticky and tacky, they adhere to each other in their embrace. He is soothed by such a clasp as theirs while the longer he lays on his stomach the more keenly aware he is of how it hurts. Now’s the time to roll over and mention something about needing to get back. Now would be it, but for some reason the words don’t come and he lays on his knotted gut, suppressing winces and biting his lip against the pinches, trying to recall the sweetness of her, what made this worth it. Her breath fans his neck, wafting across his cheek -cuddle bug, he thinks, fond. Home, he should go home, but never has it felt so utterly foreign. Like a figment of what he wants and needs, like Christmas morning without your mama. A house is just a shell without heart. He wonders if his boys have got the front den cleaned yet of barbecue and would-be-in-laws.
“Do you need to get off your…head?” Gigi whispers softly and it startles him. She’s got a point, all his blood is rushing to his brain the way he’s laying.
“Probably should.” he grunts and slowly, like a pair of cats, they uncurl from around each other to be face to face for the first time since they shared such pleasure. They’re both a little pink and their smiles are too wide. He wonders at the happiness she’s releasing, marveling that he put it there. He’s got to be careful or it won’t be too long before this little girl realizes she’s got him wrapped around her finger already.
She rubs her nose against his. Another way to kiss.
She asks him if he needs a drink.
“I’ll help you with your philosophy homework.” He promises instead, it’s a reason to see her again. And soon. A reason to see her again and a hint it can’t be tonight.
Tonight he needs his pills, his bed, an enema and god knows what else just to make it till morning. He could cry from how badly he wants to be spontaneous, to go to a girl’s place, make love, cuddle like this and when he says he has to go and her eyes well up with tears at the prospect of his absence -he’d like to be able to say he can stay.
“Hush it’s alright, I’ll stay. I’ve got you, no one’s gonna ever leave you cold again.” something like that. Instead he says he can help with her test. Instead he tries to fool himself into being something less than heartbroken at how even the simplest thing in his life has to be a big production.
“Will you really?” Gigi’s face lights up at his piss poor offer.
“Promise.” he repeats.
“And will you promise me you’ll let me repay you?” She presses slyly, her hand petting down his chest and over the swell of his gut. Some childlike weariness in him wants her to rub it better. He remembers feeling the same way as a child regarding his mother’s touch and despite the fact that Gigi’s a baby girl - his baby girl - he trusts she’d make one Gladys Love Presley proud, doing her best to take care of him.
“Mmmaybe.” he looks down at her with playful suspicion.
“Promise me!” she demands, kicking her feet and flipping over to look down at him, swinging a leg to straddle him again.
He can’t help the wince his face flashes at the pressure of her hands from that high vantage. She flings them off him like she’s been burned, likes she’s the one who got hurt. “Oh shoot, sorry, sorry.” she gasps, her eyes wide and blue and tearful, “It’s bad, huh?”
As if not being able to get it up weren’t chastisement enough for his ego, now there’s this. “Uh huh.” he grits and the stab passes for the moment.
“Do you have something for it?” she hopes, “Do you need to go home?.”
There’s the out he needs. Didn’t even have to say it himself. Melancholy descends like fog over his soul but he reminds himself it is what is, he’s better off than most. So what if he can’t have sleepovers on whim or shit like a normal human or skip having his blood pressure checked every goddamn morning -he has a lot, and he got to eat Gigi’s silky smooth bare pussy. Today was a good day. Not even a wash, it was a good day, she made it a good day.
“Yeah, I need to get home.” he sounds every bit as despondent as he feels about it and he hopes she’ll take that as the compliment intended.
“Ok!” she chirps without missing a beat, jumping up in nothing but his open jacket, skipping out the bedroom door, left turn into what seems to be the kitchen.
Well, she handled that better than expected. Elvis almost hopes she’s still orgasm-happy and it doesn’t reflect her readiness to have him out of her place. He idly flicks at the stack of papers to get some impression of where the test is stumping her. He fidgets with his zipper and closes his jacket back up, coloring at the memory of letting her expose him like that.
She comes bouncing back within the minute holding a glass of water and presenting it with authority, “Now you just drink this daddy, it’s got fennel tincture in it and will help your stomach. You just drink that while I pack my bag. I’ll be fast, don’t worry,” she goes on as he tries to compute what she means and sniffs her concoction warily, “I pack light anyways and we can always come back for the rest of my stuff later.”
Come back. For her stuff. Don’t worry -she packs light.
The fennel wafts around him, the smell of licorice and fairgrounds and his mama’s hand in his and daddy winning him that stuffed tiger. Fennel, for his stomach. He shakes his head. His tongue feels fuzzy.
Come back. For her stuff. She packs light.
She is coming with him. That’s what she must mean, he realizes as he drinks her awful drink and watches with teary eyes her bare ass bend over to grab jeans from a dresser and throw them in a duffel bag. Like Graceland is summer camp.
Come back for the rest later, she’d said. She is coming back with him, just knowing she’s welcome. He didn’t even have to beg, to ask, to suggest, to hint. Send a limo, nothin, just eat pussy and now she’s gonna live with him. Let her press her skin against his own just once and suddenly, he’s never gonna be lonely again.
She bounces into the bathroom and comes out with the damn lemon shampoo, to match the lemon conditioner abandoned on the floor.
Cheap drug store shit.
“Hell no, you’re not bringing that stuff into my house.” he lays down the law, his one condition and the first time he’s vocalized any acknowledgment of her entitlement to his hospitality, “You’ll use mine till we get you sorted.”
“I like the way you smell.” she admits, dropping the bottles there in the middle of the floor. That's that sorted.
It’s still not sunk in fully as Elvis drives his quite recognizable beast of a car through Memphis’ now dark streets, while Gigi sits beside him with her white stack of papers catching the street lights glare as they pass. His giddy joy at her willingness and her entitlement to stay with him is overshadowed by the cold lump in his throat, panicking about how to keep a shred of dignity intact or retain an iota of her attraction for him when she becomes aware of his routines.
“You’re gonna teach me how to help, right?” she asks very soberly from her side, as sober as he’s ever seen her.
“Whatcha mean, baby doll?” he tries to keep his tone light.
“You’ll teach me and show me how to care for you, right?” she presses again, “I wanna take care of you, like you take care of me.”
Simple as that -for her. He grunts out something she mistakes for a yes.
Elvis puffs harder on his lit cigar and feels like he’s gonna choke, ends up rolling his window down, gulping in fresh air as Gigi does it on her side too, hanging her head out the window and whooping into the night. He wonders what might distract her while he slips away this evening, maybe a movie or maybe the hot tub or maybe the horses. Maybe Tammy is still there like a bad penny and will keep her distracted. Tonight Elvis would welcome that. Only tonight, and his hand tightens on the steering wheel in frustration over his own worn out body and how it just can’t walk this stuff off anymore.
She’s still hanging out the window, she looks so young like that. His vision blurs.
Somehow Gigi’s feet have ended up in his lap by the time Sam’s letting them into the front gate. She wiggles her toes under his belly, rubbing at the soft skin. Grinning at him suggestively, like a fat man’s belly is the most sexy thing imaginable. He wants to snort.
“Think they saved us any barbecue?” she grins.
“No, it’s all in Gingersnaps’s hair and I ain’t touchin’ that ever again.” he allows himself to be a bit of bastard, it can’t be wrong when it makes Gigi giggle in maniacal glee in the passenger seat, secure now in having her Daddy’s attention. “I’m in the mood for peanut butter anyway.” he retorts.
Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.
If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo
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mlm-writer · 8 months
Text
Filling (Peter Parker x M!Reader)
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Pairing: Omega!Peter Parker (TASM ver.) x Alpha!Kryptonian!Cis!Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1221 POV: Second Summary: Peter is in heat and has the baby fever. As his mate, it is your duty to help him make it through the heat. Note: Merging requests now in the hopes to one day get my inbox empty Tags: omegaverse, no mpreg, mentions of getting pups, breeding, multiple orgasms, knotting, overstimulation, is it spidey sense or is Peter just autistic (both if you ask me), fluffy smut, established relationship, biting/marking and a little aftercare
Peter could hear the moisture being pumped through the wall by the aircon. He felt every breeze of cold air circle through his bedroom. The cold wind played with a receipt on top of the dresser. Each rustle of paper set off his Spidey sense, the instinct telling him there was danger everywhere. There was danger everywhere lurking. He had to protect his pups. He did not have pups (yet). Peter tried making his nest on the bed air tight, but it was no use. Every second made him more antsy than the previous one. That was until the door opened and his boyfriend came running in. The instant waft of fresh alpha pheromones was like a douse of cold water on a hot day. 
You had seen through the door how anxious Peter was. His heart was hammering, breathing almost just as rapid. However, it couldn’t be helped. You had run out of water way sooner than you had anticipated and needed more. “I am so sorry, omega, I’m here,” you cooed as you put the two dozen one litre bottles of water by the door, taking a few to scatter them across the room. Peter made a whiny sound from under his pile. He was near-overheating and yet he had nestled himself there. You rushed over to the windows, closed the small gap that had formed between the curtains. When you were sure the light in the room was minimal, you started removing pillows from the top of the pile, until you saw some brown hair peeking out. 
As soon as you gave that mess a peck, Peter emerged, pulling at your clothes. You had just worn a zipper hoodie and sweatpants that could be pulled down in one go. The choice of outfit had been deliberate. Peter got you out of your fit without ripping anything and immediately pressed his nose against your scent glands. He inhaled deeply. “I need your babies, alpha,” he demanded, voice trembling with the need that seemed to be soaking his bones. You could smell the slick dripping down his thighs. You knew he could not have your babies due to Kryptonian DNA being incompatible with his mutated DNA, but you indulged in his fantasy; logic was about the last thing your mate needed right now.
“I’ll breed you properly, my sweet omega,” you whispered as you pushed Peter down onto the bed. He smacked the pillows around, until he was lying down comfortably, legs spread wide to invite his alien mate. His scent alone was enough to arouse you, the heat pheromones doing exactly what they were designed for. 
When you entered him, Peter found something beyond relief. It was like finding a guiding light in a storm of emotions and needs beyond even his own comprehension. With his focus on your big cock pushing at his walls, he could no longer pay attention to his spidey sense going crazy over every sound in the room and every texture on his skin. With his alpha caging him against the bed, the musky alpha scent blocked out all other scents. The endless stream of sensory input was intercepted and all that his brain needed to process from here on was his strong alpha, his love, his mate. His alpha was going to keep him safe. He was going to give him pups. He wanted - no, needed - it. 
Peter could hear his alpha’s cells charged with solar energy from his brief run to get more water. The energy buzzed in his skin and Peter could almost feel the hum on his own skin. The strong Kryptonian lifted him up with ease, holding him close while pounding his greedy, wet hole violently. Peter cried for more, needing all his senses filled with the other man. He needed to feel his alpha and his alpha only. You were the shelter that could protect him and his pups from the hazards of the outside world.
You could see how far away Peter was. He was always like this during his heat, overstimulated to the max and needing you to give him a singular focus. Your Kyptonian powers proved useful in providing you all the information you could want on his vitals. He would need to drink soon, but you knew he would not without having at least one orgasm. So you held him closer, using your super strength to lift him up and put him against the wall, railing him like that until he let out a loud cry and he made a mess. “So good for me, omega. Keep going for me. Come on, again.” Peter wailed as he obeyed your command. You could feel his orgasm dripping down your skin. The scent of his own climaxes mixed with the spice of sex in the air, overwhelmed Peter’s senses. He trashed as his brain was assaulted by the arousing olfactory stimuli. He forced his eyes open, meeting yours as you kept your foreheads pressed together while rearranging his insides. 
It was hard to keep yourself from finishing too soon. Peter was scorching around you. His cries were almost deafening, but you did not want it to stop; he was just too ravishing with tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and his mouth open as if he couldn’t believe he was having a third orgasm so soon. You tangled your fingers in his sweaty hair and pulled his head to the side, your teeth sinking into the faded mating scar. Peter cried out and spasmed as the sensations flooded him. Your teeth drew his fourth orgasm out of him. You licked over the red skin, knowing it would bruise later and even looking forward to seeing it. 
There was only so much you could do. Eventually even your steel willpower could not keep your knot from swelling up, locking you in as you filled Peter with incredible volume. “Yes, thank you alpha, so full,” Peter sobbed, “I can feel your pups already, alpha.” You groaned and forced Peter’s face into the crook of your neck, making sure his nose was pressed against your scent gland. Peter’s mumbling grew incoherent as you thrusted your knot as much as you could while locked together like this. He babbled on about pups, his body trembling from the overstimulation. Your legs were shaking too, the weight of him was easy to endure, but the tightness gripping at your knot was less so. 
You were glad when you felt Peter’s body going slack. He was barely conscious by the time you carried him to the bed, sitting against the headboard with him in your lap. Your knot kept your bodies close together, but you could still reach for one of the water bottles you placed near the bed. After a good few gulps, you pressed the opening of the bottle against Peter’s glistening lips. It took a few bumps, before he realised he needed to drink. 
With your help, Peter managed to drink, before slumping back against you. You smiled as you caressed his sweaty back, drinking in his scent and relaxing in the eye of the storm. Later you would have to do this all over again, but for now, all you could hear in the bedroom was the whirring aircon and the heartbeat of the man you loved. 
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kairiscorner · 9 months
Note
19
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
thank you anon :> ok, so this one is a doozy (i fucking cried inside):
comforting gwen
summary: gwen's in her own world again, thinking about the stuff that's happened in the past, beating herself up for it, and... you're worried. you're extremely worried for her. you want to help her so badly, but the right push for you to help was when you witnessed her storm out of band practice with tears welling up in her eyes.
word count: 1,973
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the clanging of cymbals and the drumming on the snare abruptly stops mid-performance. the bass, electric guitar, and lead vocalist going on without her for a few seconds, until they notice their beat was lacking something. they turned around to face her. she was slightly pale, her light blue eyes widening as her eyebrows curved upward to display her discomfort, her desire to just vanish from there right now as her drumsticks fell from her clutches, her grip lessening as the feeling overwhelmed her; engulfing her life a big wave she can't even see the top of. it was back again, that horrible, horrible aching feeling that consumed her.
her breathing was ragged, her hearing just became ringing. she could barely make out the muffled and overlapping voices of her bandmates as she mumbled a, "not again" hastily, over and over as she gripped her head, feeling a heavy weight on her chest and back as she hunched over, tears welling up in her eyes as she felt her breathing become more and more labored.
"stacy, you okay--" asked one of her bandmates as they extended their hand towards her, but she slapped it away. with a furious look on her face as her eyebrows knitted together, and her mouth contorting into an uncharacteristic scowl. "leave me alone!" she shouted as she got up, and as her bandmates rushed to the aid of the one whose hand she slapped away, a split second of regret for what she did in her hazy, ambiguous bout was seen; which was quickly replaced by a new kind of disgust and anger: towards herself for feeling this way.
you soon entered their practice hall, hoping to catch gwen and ask her if you could take her somewhere nice tonight, but the moment you came in was the moment she stormed out. "watch your girl, she's been pretty out of it lately." said the vocalist of the mary janes. "'pretty out of it'? she slapped me when i was trying to help her!" exclaimed her bandmate whom she slapped their hand away.
"she...? oh no..." you thought aloud as you rushed to the direction where she stormed off, hoping she wouldn't do anything crass or anything she'd regret. you looked around for her, searching everywhere within the vicinity, calling her on her phone, only to hear buzzing against the ground. you found a flashing light from a stray phone, seeing a photo of you from her 14th birthday with cake shoved in your face with a lopsided, crumpled birthday hat on with a playful smile on your face.
this was gwen's phone.
"shit, not again... oh, gwinny..." you muttered to yourself as you called out for her, picking up her phone and hoping with all your might that you could find her this time, that she wouldn't be consumed by whatever she was feeling right then and there.
soon enough, as the sun was setting over the horizon, with the purple and pink hues in the sky stretching across the city, engulfing it in the eye-pleasing backdrop, you finally found gwen inside a small thicket by the farther parts of the building. she wasn't that deep in, but to get here, she must've walked an excruciatingly long distance.
you climbed up wordlessly as you felt the crunching of dried up orange and brown leaves from underneath the soles of your shoes and the crushing of smaller rocks as you marched up to talk to gwen, or at least, to see if she was doing better than how she was before.
gwen had her legs folded up to her chest, her arms folded on her knees as she pressed her forehead against them. she always got in this position whenever she felt... overwhelmed. you could remember the first time you saw her like this was after the death of her friend, peter parker.
you knew the guy, and you knew how much gwen loved him as a friend; the two were nearly inseparable, and you respected that. and to have him taken away from her like that... you could only imagine what kind of suffering she went through when she held his dying body, his eyes' colors fading away as she clung on to the hope that he'd live--she could do something, she had to have done something... right?
gwen perked up her head when you came closer, and soon, she saw your concerned expression looking down at her. "are you, um..." you mumbled, trying to find the right words to ask, because situations like this hardly have any "right words" to say. gwen looked down at the assortment of pebbles and brown leaf bits by her feet and shrugged. "it happened again." she uttered in a soft voice.
you sat down by her side wordlessly as you waited for her to initiate the talking first. gwen was... hopeless with words, especially in situations like these. and hey, so were you, but you never made stuff like this all about you, you never spoke for her when she needed to figure out just what was happening to her, you'd never, ever do that.
gwen breathes in deeply and holds it in for a few seconds, before letting it out with a ragged sigh, evoking tears to come out from the ends of her eyes, realizing she'd been holding that breath and a few tears in, which she was only willing to let out when you were there. just you.
after a few minutes of awkward, yet much needed, silence, gwen finally spoke up. "i don't know why this keeps happening, i should be over it... right? like, it... it happened so long ago. i shouldn't be affected by it anymore, at least, not this much... right?" she asked you as tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyebrows knitting together as her frustration with herself became more and more palpable.
you put a hand on her shoulder. "gwen, it's oka--" "don't." she cuts you off as she looks away from you, shutting her eyes as more tears came rolling down her cheeks and staining her shirt. "please don't tell me 'it's okay', it's not." she muttered as she got back in the position you found her in the moment you came across her after storming out.
she tried breathing in, but she exhaled it in a sob. "i'm glad you care, but please don't tell me it's okay because it's not. it's like his ghost'll always affect me, and that..." she trailed off as she looked down at her palms, as if the answer to her mental turmoils would be drawn across the skin of her palms. "...that's pathetic, isn't it?" she asked you as she turned to look at you, her bottom eyelids reddening and her nose and the corners of her lips quivering.
you shook your head. "no, it's not pathetic, it's... it's a sign you still care." you tell her as you brush her bangs out of the way of her face, the ends of her hair a tad bit wet from her tears staining it. you looked at her with such softness and care in your eyes, you wished you could take all her burdens, all her pain, and make it yours so she wouldn't have to suffer anymore.
gwen couldn't retort your logic, she knew it just as well as you did: she never stopped caring for peter, and his death affected her in so many ways, because she felt like her not having saved him, him wanting to be special, just like her, caused his death.
she feels like she killed him, and that feeling grew the more she realized she lived and he died.
gwen soon let out a louder sob, finally releasing all the feelings she's kept pent up ever since that day. you inched closer to her, and as she leaned against you, as she sobbed and sobbed her heart out. because of how many feelings she had neglected, how many thoughts she repressed were finally coming out like a flood, she cried louder and louder, as if she were screaming out her pain into the air for her cries to be heard--to be understood.
you wrapped her around your arms gently so as not to startle her, and you held her close. you let her cry over your shirt, it was just a shirt anyway, but what she felt... she wasn't just carrying feelings, she was carrying memories and thoughts with her that made her hate herself; she carried with her burdens no one will ever understand, maybe not even you would ever understand the full extent of.
you held her close and told her to let it out, for that was the best you could do. and even if gwen couldn't tell you right then and there that she appreciated your help, so, so much, her clinging on to you as she sobbed and holding you tightly was all the thanks you were satisfied with. she felt so comfortable with you, so vulnerable, so real with you.
"i'm scared... i might lose you, too. i don't know what'll, what'll happen to me if you..." she stammered out, her lips quivering as she blinked away her tears. you smiled softly at her as your eyebrows curved upwards in reassurance. "you don't have to worry about me, and i know... you might tell me you don't want to hear it, and i respect that. but i promise you, i'll look out for myself for you; and i'll always look out for you." you comforted her as you brushed your hand across her cheek with a reassuring smile.
"but please, promise me you'll worry about yourself, too." you reminded her as your smile slowly faded away. gwen's tears slowed down and halted from rolling down for a minute, she wiped the remaining tears away as she breathed in a shallow breath. "nobody understands a thing. nobody knows who you really are if you keep putting up walls between you and them." gwen utters in a soft voice as she rests her head against your shoulder.
"and you know what? i'm okay with that." she murmured as her voice cracked. "i'm not crazy for thinking i don't belong with a lot of people if their goal is to make friends. i might be crazy though for thinking... i can keep going on like this." she admitted as she looked up at you, who had been looking down at her all the while as she was speaking.
"if you ever feel like... the world's coming down upon you, crashing down on you and all... i'm right here for you." you tell her with a gentle smile. "i might never fully understand what you felt that day, what you continue to feel, and what you'll ever feel about that day, but... i've got you. you can talk to me." you reassure her, and at those last five words, gwen wraps you into a tight embrace, her thanking you and apologizing for getting you wrapped up in all of this.
"thank... you. i'll try, i'll try to... to accept it. and i'll... i'll take care of my...self better." she whispers to you, which you smile at as she hugs you back. she doesn't do friends anymore, but... you're the sole exception, you've been there for her since forever, and she's glad you'll extend staying with her even if she gets like this, gets scared, and confused, vulnerable and weak from her horrible thoughts and memories. she loves you more than how one would say they love a lover, more than how they say they love their parents or siblings or friends; she loves you with a love that heals and comforts, even if the scars of the past continue to throb at the most untimely moments.
a/n: GWEN I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON'T BE SO HARD ON YOURSELF AAAAAAAAAAAAA
tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy
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