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sluts4matt · 3 months

Text

SQUEEZE

pairing: rough!dom matt x latina!reader

summary: not only had you been teasing him all day while he was trying to work, when he finally did give you attention all you gave him back was attitude and sass and matt was having none of it.

warnings: SMUT, shits fucking ROUGH, making out, degradation, orgasm denial, slight bondage, dumbification, overstimulation, pet names, fingering, oral (male receiving), light smacking, p in v, choking, spanking

word count: 2162

author's note: this is based off of squeeze by ghostmane because the songs just so 🥰.

matt had been working all day, leaving you bored and alone. you'd tried your best to keep your mind occupied, but your favorite tv shows didn't entertain you for as long as they normally did and nothing seemed to be interesting enough for you to do for the rest of the day.

with a sigh you looked next to you, staring at the mirror on the bathroom door on the side of matt's bed. an idea popped into your head, your lips turning into a mischeveous grin.

you planted your feet on the hard wood ground, making your way to the drawer you had that occupied the boys dresser. you grabbed the blue set out of it, going into his bathroom to change into it.

you put the bra on, looking at yourself in the mirror. the laced cups fit you well, pushing your breast up nicely and showing them off perfectly.

the bottoms were a little different. the front had lace flowers sewn onto the fabric, the upper part having a little bow. while the back was a simple blue string. you looked at your figure, your hips and ass looking good in the set.

you left the bathroom, positioning yourself on matt's bed before aiming your phone at the mirror. you snapped a picture, your eyes running over it as you analyzed every detail of it. with a satisfied hum, you sent it to the boy.

to flipped the view on the camera to selfie mode, raising your phone up to angle it down at your breast. the lace on the top made them look so much better, the bra holding them nicely. you took a picture, sending it to him.

you let out a small giggle when you see him open the first picture, a smile planted on your lips as the three dots appear. 'not funny my love, i'm with nick and chris,' you gave a small pout, even though he couldn't see.

'i'm bored' you replied, putting your phone down on his bedside table. you let out a huff, getting off the bed to go back into the bathroom.

"this is boring." you mumbled, stripping out of the lingerie and throwing it on the counter. you pulled the previous sweater you were wearing back on. the green fabric hanging off your body loosely, looking more like a dress then a sweater.

the black dinosars stood out nicely, and you smiled at the item on your body. it wasn't yours, well not technically. but as matt said, what is his is yours.

a few hours had passed and you were laying under the brown silk covers of matt's bed. your eyes were closed as the sounds of the tv filled the room. the door clicked, creaking open as matt peaked his head in.

"miss me?" he asks, shutting the door behind him. you don't respond, upset about the fact that you had been at his house, alone, all day. matt rolled his eyes, "i asked you a question love," he said, kneeling on the bed beside you.

"nope," you say, popping the 'p'. you sit up, turning your body to plant your feet against the ground. you stand up to begin walking out when your shoved against the wall with a soft hand around your neck.

the cold metal of his rings making you gasp, "you done?" a small whine threatens to leave your mouth, but you hold it back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "being a brat earlier and then giving me attitude just now calls for punishment," matt says, his voice low and deep.

his hands make quick work of tying your wrist together, one of your nearby black scarfs being wrapped around them. "on the bed," he commands, and you follow.

the sheets were warm from you being on them, the soft fabric rubbing against the bare skin on your legs. you were pulled closer to the edge of the bed, matt's fingers slipping in the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down.

without warning he landed a smack to your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth as your body jolted forward. he brought his hand back up to land another blow to your other cheek. he didn't give you a break, his hands continuously smacking the plump flesh.

tears threatened to fall as your mouth fell agape, the pain and pleasure mixing together. his hand left the sore skin, the red marks visible even on your tan complexion.

his hand landed a few more rough smacks before roughly kneading he flesh in his hand, making you wince from the skin being pinched by his rings.

you heard him let out a low growl before his fingers trailed between your folds, your wetness evident. "you like that baby?" he asks, his voice mocking. "you like me hurting you? you're so fucking pathetic," he spat, his words only making you soak his fingers more.

you whimper, nodding your head the best you could. his other hand reached up to grab your hair, tugging your head back, making your back go against his chest, as he shoved two of his fingers inside you.

your mouth fell agape, the stretch stinging, yet the pleasure overtaking it. his fingers fucked you, curling and hitting the right spot each time. the coil in your stomach was about to burst, and you knew if you were to cum without his permission, you'd be in deep shit.

"fuck, matt," you breathe, earning a low chuckle, "already?" he mocks, scissoring his fingers inside you, "you're so easy for me, aren't you baby? just my little plaything," he growls into your ear, his lips trailing down your shoulder, sucking the skin between his teeth.

"mhm, fuck," you whine, "just you," you breathe. a smile grows on his face as his hand pulls out of you, making your legs shake as he does. he grabs your hips, pulling you up. he turns your around, his hand going to your head as he pushes you back down, your knees hitting the floor.

your eyes widen, feeling the bulge in his pants against your cheek. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back, "you know what to do," he says, his free hand pushing the grey fabric of his sweats down his legs.

his hard cock springs up, the tip a deep red as a small drop of pre-cum drips down. your lips wrap around his head, taking the length down your throat. he lets out a low groan, his head falling back as you bob your head.

his hand on your head pushes you down further, "come on baby, know you can take more," he breathes, your throat constricting as you take more. a low groan leaves his lips, "just like that," he says, the sound of his praise sending waves to your core.

his hips thrust on their own accord, pushing in and out of your mouth as his hand continues its movements on your head. his cock hits the back of your throat, making your eyes tear up. you try to pull away, but his hand holds you down, making you take him all.

his breathing quickens, the grip on your hair tightening, "so good, so fucking good," he growls, you hum around him, making him let out a whimper. his eyes squeeze shut; his jaw clenched. his body tenses, a low moan leaving his mouth as his load spills down your throat.

he lets out a shaky breath, his hand untangling from your hair. "so good," he breathed, tugging you up. his hand comes across your cheek, unexpectedly, but softly. his hand grabs your jaw, squeezing it. "i'm gonna ruin you princess," he growled.

he tugged his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. he swiftly untied the scarf around your wrist, pushing you back against the bed. your back hit the sheets, the air leaving your lungs. he hovered over you, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

his teeth bit down on the skin harshly, piercing the flesh with his teeth. "you bored now? hmm?" he asked, his hot breath against your neck, his teeth never leaving the skin. he sucked the skin between his lips, biting down harder.

you whimper, a sharp sting traveling throughout your body, "no," you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "fuck," you whisper, a smile growing on matt's face as he pulled away.

he admired his work, the dark marks splayed out against your neck and collarbone area. his hand pushes his sweater up your torso, his lips connecting with the soft skin as he kissed his way up to one of his favorite spots of your body.

your boobs. his tongue parted his lips, trailing up the skin before capturing your right bud in between his teeth making you let out a squeal. your back arched, the pleasure of his warm mouth surrounding your nipple making you squirm.

your hands flew to his head, tangling themselves in his hair. he detatched his mouth, a tsking noise leaving his lips as he shoved your hands over your had. "no touching, brats don't get to touch," he spat, his mouth latching onto your left bud.

you whimper, "please," you beg, a low chuckle leaving his lips. "please what? you tryna apologize for being such a bitch earlier? you think a little 'please' is gonna get me to forgive you?" he spat, his teeth nipping at the sensitive bud.

he pulled away, sitting up and shoving your legs apart. his hands hooked themselves under your thighs, his nails digging into the skin. he pulled you closer to him, lining his cock with your entrance.

he pushed in, a loud gasp leaving your lips. "you're always so tight," he groaned, his hips rolling. his length pushed into you, filling you up and hitting the right spots. "fuck, matt," you whine, squeezing your fists shut, surely leaving crescent marks with your nails.

he lets out a low chuckle, a sadistic smile on his face, "what's wrong princess? you close already?" he cooed, his hips snapping into yours. your eyes roll back, your mouth hanging open as he moves his hips at an animalistic pace.

the squelching noise of your cunt and skin on skin could be heard through the room. "shit, baby," he growled, his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs, the stinging sensation making tears build up in your eyes.

his hips were relentless, pounding into you with a brutal force. one of his hands went to the headboard for stability, his other one going to the bend of your knee, pushing it forward.

his cock pushed in deeper, hitting all the right spots. "fuck, fuck," you moaned, the coil in your stomach about to burst, "matt please," you begged, his hand flying down to grip your throat, his rings pushing against the skin.

"no," he grunted, the tears falling down your cheeks, "please," you repeated, a small whine following after.

"you think you deserve to cum?" he asks, his voice low and deep, "this was what you wanted, no?" his hand tightens around your throat, "to have me fuck you stupid, ruin you.

"you don't deserve it, not after how you acted," his hand leaves your throat, smacking your cheek with enough force to turn your head.

"but i'll allow it," he said, his thumb moving down to rub your clit, "because you're mine," his lips came down to press a soft kiss to your lips, a loud moan escaping your mouth. the coil was about to burst, the knot in your stomach tightening.

"fuck, yes," you whimper, "please, please," you begged. "go on," he growled, his thumb never stopping its motions, "cum, cum all over my cock. show me who owns this pretty pussy, princess." he groans, his hips never slowing down.

"fuck, matt!" you scream, the knot finally breaking as the waves of pleasure course through your body. a high pitched whine leaves your lips, the sensitivity kicking in as he continues to push his hips against yours.

your hands move from the spot above your head to gripping the back of matt's shoulder, your nails leaving angry marks eliciting a whimper from the boy.

"that's my girl," he groans, the overstimulation beginning to kick in as he chases his high. "so pretty, all for me, right? just a fucking plaything," he grunts, the bed frame smacking against the wall as your legs bounce with each movement.

"all yours," you breathe, the tears rolling down your face, the stimulation becoming too much. his hips stutter, his breathing labored as his moans become higher pitched, his hand on the headboard gripping it until his knuckles turn white.

"fuck, princess," he whimpers, his hips pushing against yours before stopping completely. his forehead drops down against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he peppers kisses all on your face, "don't fucking tease when i'm working, ya?"

tag list:

@chrryclouds @sturniolossss @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @tillies33ssss @hysteria-things @etvar12 @lily-strnlo @freshsturns

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tojisun · 5 months

Text

!! hurt and comfort; simon’s pov (re: bimbo!reader); mentioned johnny; dark simon but only if u squint very hard // work is a continuation of this one ^v^ // bimbo!reader mlist

divider by @/plutism <33

simon noticed how quiet you’ve gotten, demure smiles and puffed out laughs never breaching past the first trickles of giggles. you seemed distracted, eyes glazing over and your fingers pausing from where they were playing with the loose threading of your sweater.

well, technically it was his, but you’ve long stolen it from his bunk and simon truly would rather cut off his arms than ask it back from you.

simon waits, mulling over how to approach you, how to talk to you when you're obviously worried about something, but then you take the first step.

“simmy, why’re you with me…?”

the hesitation in your voice makes him ache, his heart wrenching itself from the cages of his ribs, threatening to smother him with his grief. he parts his lips open, a question on the tip of his tongue — "who made you doubt my love?" — but he holds himself back, choosing instead to take your hand in his.

you look up at the first touch of his fingers along the back of your palm, the pads of his fingers gliding softly, tentatively, before reaching to tangle them with yours. simon's breath hitches at the weak smile that tugs up at your lips, a wet sheen lining the corners of your eyes.

"oh, petal," simon murmurs, pulling your hand up to his lips so he can press a kiss along the ridges of your knuckles. he earns a wet giggle as you shoot him a shy look, surreptitiously holding back your tears, and simon briefly wonders if you can feel your nose twitching because of your aborted sniffles.

"i'm with you 'cause i love you."

he shifts when he says this, giving himself more room to use his other hand — greedily reaching forward to cup your cheek, thumbing the skin just underneath your eye.

"you understand?"

it is a gentle prodding, one that he hopes was able to hide his own hesitance because if you are doubting his love, if you are questioning why he is with you, then-

then.

does that mean he isn't showing it enough?

simon breathes in sharply, his own world caving in, and it is only the hold he has on you that keeps him tethered. his mind runs on overdrive, the what-if's a catalyst to his unstoppable spiral: what does he need to change? how else can he show you his affections? how else can he reassure you? what can chase away your doubts?

simon's fear grows, threatening to creep up from the base of his throat and to spill into the space between you two, but even so, he forces himself to stay steady. to hold onto you just as gently.

he can process this later on his own — confide in mactavish if he needs to — but right now, in this moment, simon needs to comfort you.

to show you that his promises — "yeah, sweetheart. you and me, together forever." — are true. that he will fulfill them.

that-

"yeah," you reply, voice less wobbly but not any less unsure. "i understand and trust you, simmy, i do! it's just that they..."

simon's gait changes, his trained ears picking apart your mumbled words.

'they.'

someone did this. someone had tainted simon's love for you; made you doubt his intentions. worse, someone made you doubt yourself.

"shh," simon coos, pulling away just a bit before finally picking you up from your spot beside him and dropping you gently on his lap.

your arms loosely curl over his shoulders, hips swaying as you make yourself comfortable on top of him. simon's hands find purchase on your ass, not really doing anything salacious, especially not with this atmosphere, but only holding on to ensure that you don't wiggle yourself to the floor on accident.

you're watching him with big doe eyes, looking all parts his princess even when sadness continues to reverberate from you. simon presses forward to rub his nose against your own, startling a squeak from you — a distraction before his careful questioning.

"tell me everythin' from the start, petal," simon whispers. "let me help you, yeah?"

"okay," you sniffle, nodding softly.

and you do: you tell him about noah thompson, the frat boy who couldn't take "no" for an answer and insisted on bothering you even when you told him that you were taken. that you were spoken for. you told him about noah who insisted that the perfect match for you was someone you could be with everyday — "he taunted me, simmy. asked why you're never around." — and, especially, someone younger. you told him about noah who, in his frustration at your continuous rejection, began to steer hatred your way; calling you "dumb" and "stupid" and "easy."

the last one was said in a hiccupped cry and simon was quick to wrap you up in his embrace, tucking you underneath his chin and murmuring promises and reassurances because you are not dumb nor stupid nor fucking easy.

gods. you are such a perfect girl, the sweetest of them all. the kindest. the loveliest.

and noah knows. that is why, shrouded in his jealousy after seeing the token of his affection be so protective of her lover, he said those things to you. but simon doesn't say that. he doesn't craft anything that could make it look like he's making an excuse for noah's disgusting attitude. so instead, he remains quiet as you pick up your words again.

because, finally, simon is presented with the root of your sadness: noah telling you that simon could only ever be with you for your body.

"i told him you couldn't be because if you're only with me for my body then, simmy, you would've left a long time ago! you wouldn't spoil me and mitty," simon almost coos at the new nickname you gave mittens, "and you wouldn't introduce me to your friends! you wouldn't take me out to see the penguins or go to the butterfly gardens with me. and that's just some of the stuff i remember because you do so much for me but he won't listen!"

simon isn't shocked by the sob that ripples from your lungs as you press your face on the crook of his neck, crying out in your frustration. simon's own lips wobble, his previous self-doubt now crushed at having heard you protect him with such ferocity. at having believed in him with such confidence.

he rubs your back with his palms, unwavering in the flow of his praises and comfort. he presses a kiss on the top of your head, then your temple, before planting multiple along your damp face. you try dancing away from his lips with another wet huff before finally collapsing in his arms in your exhaustion.

"i'm sorry for askin', simmy," you mumble. "i know you love me but-"

"s'all right, petal. y've got nothin' to say sorry for," simon replies, tightening his arms around you. "i'm glad that you came to me and asked. i promised you, didn't i? that we'll take things together, as a team?"

"mhmm," you say with a soft nod. "as a team."

"that's right. you and me: a team."

you crash on his lap and simon basks in the quiet seconds before carrying you to the bedroom. he tucks you underneath the sheets, making a mental note that he has to come back and at least wipe your makeup off and, if he takes a while, then wake you up just enough that you can wash your face.

but for now, he has things to do.

fishing his phone out, simon shoots a message to johnny: "find me something on noah thompson."

"how much?" johnny writes back.

"enough that he won't bother petal anymore," simon replies.

a minute rolls by when johnny messages him again, "we've got something." then, "will she know?"

simon hums to himself. "no," he writes back.

johnny doesn't send in any more replies, but simon understands. no more needs to be said, anyway. not when it's about you.

tagging: @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @yannauauau @yaebaal @ivymarquis @liwooa @loonalockley @kariiiel @hawsx3 @durkakakayata @littlecellist

#suns.f #bimbo!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #female reader #suns

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brairslair · 22 days

Note

(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)

so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song

Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?

😅😊

i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker

Like an Animal - E.M.

18+ ONLY (minors please dni)

a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3

wc: 5.8k

cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!

don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah

“well if it isn’t the little princess”

Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.

Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.

You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.

Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.

As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.

A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.

The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.

You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.

“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.

Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”

Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.

“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”

Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”

“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.

He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.

You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”

He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.

The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.

Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.

It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.

As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.

How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.

“You alright?”

The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.

He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?

But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.

You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.

He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.

“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.

He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”

He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”

You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.

Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“

“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.

“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.

Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”

“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.

Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.

Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.

After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.

No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.

This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.

It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.

As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.

Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.

Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?

You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.

You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.

It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.

He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.

He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.

As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.

Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.

Then you notice what he’s singing.

“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”

Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”

You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.

“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.

“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.

He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.

So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?

You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.

You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.

“Care for a smoke?”

His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.

You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.

You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“

“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”

Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”

You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.

“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”

Smug bastard.

“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.

He’s absolutely unbearable.

You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”

“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.

He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.

“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.

You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.

“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”

Your back hits the wall.

“You aren’t subtle, princess.”

You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.

“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.

“Is that so?”

You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.

Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.

For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.

“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”

You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.

So you finally wave the white flag.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.

Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.

His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.

“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”

He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now?”

Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”

He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”

You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.

“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.

Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”

You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”

You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.

It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.

"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"

You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.

His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.

He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”

All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.

“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.

You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”

You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”

A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”

You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.

You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.

“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.

He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.

“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”

The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”

You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”

You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”

He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.

You like hearing his voice.

You like it when he’s mean.

He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.

“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.

You’re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.

“Eddie, fucking- god”

“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”

Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.

Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”

Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.

That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.

He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”

You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.

“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.

“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”

Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.

“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.

Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.

“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”

He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”

You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.

“You can cum for me, princess”

That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.

Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.

“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”

Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.

“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”

You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.

“You fuck me so well, Eds”

“Oh my god- you feel so good”

“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”

He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.

“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."

You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.

"Soak me.”

You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.

“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”

Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!

asks are open!

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undertheorangetree · 6 months

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In The Woods Somewhere

Summary- Coriolanus does not intend on returning to the Capitol alone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ DUBCON Female reader. TBOSAS spoilers technically. Reader is essentially Lucy Gray. Porn with plot. Toxic relationship. Possessive Coriolanus. Chasing. Biting. Restraint. Choking. Edging. Overstimulation. Fingering. Cunnilingus. P in V sex.

Author’s Note- Happy holidays! This is not our regularly scheduled programming but I have Hunger Games/Tom Blyth brain rot so here’s this monster. Please heed the warnings and link to the full fic on AO3 below

She knows the moment he looks up at her, rifle clutched in his hands, that he will not be coming north with her. Not anymore, not now that he has the one thing tying him to this place well in hand.

She isn't a fool. She knows that his feelings for her played only a small role in his agreeing to come with her but she had been willing to overlook that. When he had cupped her face in his hand and swore that he would join her, that they would escape Panem- and their collective noose- together, she had seen the hesitation there. Coryo was not a man built for nature, no more than he was built for the districts, but she loves him and so she had ignored it. Twisted it into something romantic and noble in her head, that he would give up all this, that he would leave behind everything for her. He had promised her earnestly and she had taken him at his word.

But with the look on his face now, some potent mix of elation and relief washing over him like a wave, she knows she never stood a chance.

"It's the gun," he says, and she hates the tone he uses. The way he almost breathes the words, the way he looks up at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. Had she had doubts about what the guns would inspire in him, the look on his face is enough to prove her right.

"The one you fired at Mayfair," she says with a nod, crossing her arms over her chest. It feels almost protective now, as if she can safeguard her breaking heart. "Spruce must have known about this place too. I guess it's not as secret as I thought. We hide that and you're free."

"No more loose ends."

The way he says it, his hands tightening on the barrel as he looks down at the rifle, makes her blood run cold. This is all he wanted, nothing short of a dream come true. She doesn't like it, her reaction just as much as his own, and she fights to push passed it. Tells herself that there is nothing wrong here, not really, that he is entitled to some semblance of excitement, but she can feel that unease gnawing at her gut. It feels like an omen. A warning.

She grins, hoping to seem more at ease than she truly is, and feels her nose scrunch up teasingly as she says, "Besides me."

It's the wrong thing to do. Immediately, he goes rigid, eyes darting up to look at her and she sees the distrust there, akin to a beaten dog. It wouldn't be as startling as it is if not for their conversation in the woods not even an hour before. He is willing to kill if backed far enough into a corner and is that not what she has just done? Reminded him of the power she held over him with this knowledge? Backed him into a corner? And just like that beaten dog, she can see that he is only a moment away from snapping at her with pearly white teeth.

"You wouldn't... tell anyone?"

She feels her eyebrows draw together, all attempt at joking gone. It hurts a little, what seems to be a complete lack of faith in her, and it's almost surprising. Almost. "Course not."

But would she? She doesn’t really know now. The fact that he believes she could, as if she could exchange his freedom for her own, feels like the final nail in the coffin. She could forgive his dislike of the idea of heading north, the relief on his face when he saw the guns. But what he said in the woods- three’s enough for me- and his distrust of her now… she doesn’t think she’s safe with him. All their talk of trust, of how he agreed it was worth more than love, thrown to the wind all for the sake of a duffle bag full of rifles. Because just as easily as those gun could buy her freedom, they could secure his own too. One small step toward returning to his life back in the Capitol. He was going to leave before killing Mayfair, she knew that. And if there’s no weapon linking him to the crime, he could. Because no matter how badly she wants to believe he wants a life with her, she thinks he wants his old one back that much more.

And she isn’t sure just what he is willing to sacrifice to get rid of all those loose ends.

She feels herself smile again, moving on autopilot to fetch the knife she knows is on the shelf near the door. It doesn’t reach her eyes but she isn’t looking at him, gripping the handle of the knife a little too tightly. “I think I’m gonna go dig up some katniss. There’s a good patch down by the lake, don’t know when we’ll come across it again.”

His suspicion only grows at that, lips parted and head tilted in question, and she knows she needs to go. Though his finger has not yet shifted toward the trigger, it hasn’t moved away from it either. He has been a Peacekeeper for no more than two months, but that was more than enough time to pick up all he needed to know about firing a gun. Even if his aim is shoddy, it wouldn’t take much effort to aim in her general direction and hold down on a trigger. She had said it herself, she is the only one left who knew the truth about Mayfair’s death- her murder. If he wanted to go back to the Capitol, he needed to be damn sure there wasn’t a chance of his time here coming back to haunt him. As it is now, she is the only thing standing between him and the Snow penthouse.

“Thought you said they weren’t ready yet,” he protests, that uncertainty still more than apparent.

She prays her smile doesn’t look as forced as it feels when her eyes flick up to look at his handsome face, doing what she can to seem nonchalant. “The world changes awful fast.”

She pulls the door open, the rain pounding against the porch outside, when he calls her name. Her grip on the knife tightens a hair more before she’s turning back to look at him, keeping her eyes wide and innocent as she tilts her head in question. She knows she hesitated, knows he caught her if the look on his face is anything to go by, but rather than let her panic consume her, she focuses on his eyes. The beautiful, brilliant blue of his eyes. That may be the thing she misses most about him, after all this.

“It’s still raining.”

As if a little rain is enough to stop her from saving her own life.

“Well, I’m not made out of sugar,” she grins, taking one last look at him before shutting the door, placing some kind of barrier between them.

Read the rest here :)

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ilythena · 3 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 || 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM after spending a night in a small island, luke keeps seeing you everywhere he goes.

SMUT! Fem!reader, let’s just pretend alcohol is free for them, reader is not a human, oral (?), p in v, obsession, praise, Luke is a pussydrunk FOOL, definitely submissive Luke over here guys, one night stand turned spooky….readers a succubus? Idk guys I just like writing smut… this will probs have a part 2

♪ CANDY - DOJA CAT

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jack sighs as the flight attendant announces that they would unfortunately have to stay a night in this random island after the plane had difficulties.

The plan was simple, get on the plane to Australia, stay there for a few days, and then fly back to New Jersey. But like his life, things were never easy for him.

Luke groans in annoyance as the flight attendant looks at him with guilt on their face even though everyone knew it technically wasn’t their fault, and set them up for three different hotel rooms a few minutes away from the airport they had to emergency land in

“Well, at least they weren’t shitty enough to just leave us without rooms and put us somewhere” Nico says and the two brothers huff in dissatisfaction

“Come on! Cheer up! Like, let’s go out to a club! They gotta have one somewhere on this island.” He says and while everyone’s not pleased at their situation, they begrudgingly agree to his plan.

After a while and everyone’s settled, they google a club, look at the reviews, and luckily it was in walking distance so they wouldn’t have to pay for anything.

They get in there and the place is full of tourist and some locals scattered around the place, and it was actually kind of fun. Everyone was letting loose of the tense atmosphere they had earlier.

“Hey, I’m gonna go search for the bathroom! I’ll be back!” Jack shouts to Luke over the music and Luke nods his head in agreement. As jack’s seat next to Luke suddenly becomes empty, it quickly becomes occupied again as you slip into the seat

Well, more like your friend pushed you there after you’ve been eyeing the curly head the second he stepped into the resort you were staying in, but same thing.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you like that.” You say and straighten up his sleeve before he could do it himself. “…it’s fine. You’re fine.” He says and he could feel his breath suddenly getting caught in his throat at the sight of you next to him.

Your eyes capture him in a way he can’t escape, shining and glimmering under the clubs lights and he’s stuck, trying to tear his eyes away from yours and despite how hard he tries it’s impossible.

“You from here?” You say, moving your tone to a more flirtatious one as he shakes his head no. “You look a little overwhelmed…why don’t we step outside for a minute? Get you some air…” you whisper into his ear, pulling him close to you by his collar and Luke’s mouth is moving quicker than his mind as he chokes out a yes.

Before he realized it, you two were outside on the beach right next to the club, the waves crashing down onto the shore and the dress you’re wearing is slipping down your shoulders that Luke can’t tear his eyes off of.

“I never got your name? And honestly you didn’t get mine either.” You giggle and that’s what brings him down from his cloud of ecstasy, suddenly flustered that he’s out with a stranger. What about Jack? What if him and Nico are looking for him?

“U-um, my names Luke, I’m sorry, I don’t think I should be out here-“ he says and you silence him with a toothy grin that has his heart hammering against his chest

“Y/n. What’s stopping you? Got a lady back home?” You say, bringing your hands up to rub his chest and he fucking melts, you could tell he’s an awkward one, but that’s how you like them.

“N-no…..forget I said anything” he mumbles and despite the faint background music from the club, you could still hear him due to your proximity.

Looking into your eyes again, Luke can feel himself slipping into a foggy mindset. It’s like he can’t control himself despite not even knowing who you are.

A Deep feeling of anxiety swirls in his stomach, but lust quickly takes over him as he feels your lips press into his. Your teeth slightly biting into his lower lip makes his mouth drop open and you take that chance to shove your tongue into his mouth.

He moves his hands down to your waist and whines into the kiss as you reach your hands up to tug at his hair, the two of you kissing in the middle of the beach as if there wasn’t anyone else in the world.

Your plan was almost ripped away from you when you part away from him for air, and he gets a text as soon as you take your first breath away from Luke.

Jack 🏒

Didn’t think you were that type of person lukey 👀

Be safe!

You quickly shove his phone back down away from his eyesight so you can ensure that you can get Luke in your hands for good.

“Don’t worry about it, whatever it is.” You say grabbing him by his chin and redirecting his vision towards you. “Take me to your hotel? I’ll show you how we do it over here” you whisper and he takes you by surprise when he drags you towards the place.

You two messily stumble into his room and you don’t hesitate to get your mouth on his again, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and moving it upwards to rub his stomach and fidget with his belt at the same time.

You shove him down onto the bed and his face is astonishingly red, the bulge in his shorts making them unbearably tight.

He moves your hands out the way to take his belt off and you stop him, “you’re not gonna ask me? And here I am thinking you’d be obedient.” You tsk and he hesitates “what do you want me to do?” He whispers and you don’t skip a beat telling him to beg for it.

Attaching your lips to his neck, he lets out a small moan he was desperately trying to hold back and lets out a quiet please. “Please what? Ask me properly.” You demand and he shakily obeys “please, please take my shorts off.” He says and you finally shake them down his ankles to which he very swiftly kicked off.

“Good, knew you could do it for me.” you purr out and he huffs as you start to palm him through his boxers “please take those off too” he groans out, with a giggle you gently take his cock out and a hiss is heard through the room as the cool air hits his tip. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you pump him and small puffs of air escape his lips before you spit down on it to give him more lubrication

“Fuck, I’ve never- never been this fucking hard from a handjob before.” He moans out, another smiling snicker along with a kiss below his ear has him crumbling completely.

“C-can I mention how this isn’t fucking fair at all? I have my whole dick out and you’re fully clothed. Not really equal over here” he whines and you hum. “Want me to take my tits out?” “Dear god please do. Wanna see them so bad.” He breathes out and flinches when you swat his hand away when he tries to reach for your chest

“No touching.” You state and he grins, “really? Not gonna let me touch your chest, but you’re jerking me off- oh” he cuts himself off when you run your thumb over his tip as a gentle reminder that you expect to take control here.

“You have an attitude on you. I’m gonna take that away, but for now I guess I’ll give you what you want…” you say as you slowly move your dress down your shoulders to reveal yourself to him. You roll your nipple between the fingers of your free hand and he swears he can feel himself about to drool.

“Fuck, please? Can I at least put my mouth on them? You’re gonna kill me.” He grumbles out and you play pity on him, sliding your dress off and straddling him so you can push your panties to the side and rub himself between your folds.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you.” You state and he immediately latches onto your left boob, groaning in both disappointment and excitement when he feels your hand move him near your entrance

You can feel the vibrations of his muffled gasps when you rub his tip against your clit, anticipation biting Luke in his gut waiting for you to finally put him inside.

“Mmm, it’s so close, would be so easy to-“ “you’re getting bratty. Keep it up and I won’t hesitate to hold off your orgasm tonight.” You bark out, interrupting him. “Fuck, ‘m sorry” he mumbles, wiping the drool off his mouth and leaning back

“Oh fuck” he suddenly whimpers out when you finally have enough and slip him inside of you. When he reaches for you for a second time you have enough and pin his hands to his bed.

“Gonna pin me to the bed? H-oh god” he cuts himself off and you smile in satisfaction, knowing that he’s giving up that ‘wanna be dominant’ attitude.

The room is full of you two, the sounds of you bouncing on him and Luke’s whimpering along with your gasps

“Please let me touch you, I’m gonna fucking lose it over here. Please, please.” He begs and you coo down at him. His face red, eyes hooded, and begging for the most simple thing.

“Sure, baby. See? I’ll give you what you need, as long as you ask me nicely.” You let his wrist go and he immediately grabs handfuls of your ass, moaning when he’s able to feel your soft skin under his fingers

“I’m close.” He whines out and you look at him with confusion “already? We just started baby…..if you cum, how am I gonna get off?” You mock him and all of a sudden he feels this wave of embarrassment hit him, tossing his head back with a groan.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me. I’ve never- fuck- never been like this before for anyone.” You bite down behind his ear and he shudders “mmm… maybe I’m just different. All I know is that you shouldn’t cum yet.” You whisper and he shakes “can’t. I can’t hold it. You’re too fucking good.”

“Hold it.” You demand, and go right back to attacking his neck. “I’m trying. I’m trying.” He cries out, repeating himself. A small part of you wonders if he’s trying to convince you or himself, and right when he’s about to break, you let go of your pending orgasm and give in.

“Cum for me, Luke.” You rasp out, and he’s a mess as he comes undone under you. Shaking and eyes rolling into the back in his head, you get that feeling of accomplishment take over you as you orgasm. This is what you came here for.

Helping him ride out his orgasm, you gently grind yourself on him, watching him slowly come down from his high.

Everything for Luke after that is a blur. All he can remember was you cleaning him up and basically tucking him into bed before he knocked out.

The morning after, Luke woke up to Jack blowing his phone up, asking him where he was.

He frantically got up and got dressed, rushed to the airport, and met up with the other two boys. “Luke! Where were you at, man?” Nico asks and Jack smirks, looking at his younger brother.

“Lukey here had quite an eventful night if I say.” Luke can feel his face heating up at jacks words and brushes him off. “Whatever, man. Let’s just get on the plane?” He says and he was the first person to sit down and plug his headphones in as soon as he sat down, waiting for the flight attendant to give him the green light to board the plane.

As Nico goes over the plans for the trip when they land, Luke glances over to Jack and almost has a heart attack when he sees you sitting at the bar across the area from them. He sits up abruptly and when he glances at Nico for a second when his captain asks him what’s wrong and then looks back to where you were, you aren’t there anymore.

“…..Luke?” Jack repeats, concern spreading on his face as he waves his hand infront of Luke’s face. With his mouth parted and stuttering, he eventually says never mind and sinks back into his chair, gaining confused looks from both men next to him but slowly moving back into their previous conversation.

Sneakily glancing back to your spot, you still aren’t there, and he begins to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he can’t shake off the feeling that he was right.

Eventually he boards the plane and flies to Australia like it was meant to do, and Luke takes a nap. The rest of the flight is smooth, nice and quiet like he wanted it to be. He couldn’t stop thinking of you. What you two did last night, and if you were really there in the airport with him.

He wakes up when the plane lands, collecting his stuff and joking with Jack and Nico, he freezes when he leaves the plane and sees you again across the room talking to another girl.

He stands there for a solid second, staring holes into your back like if he looks away you’ll disappear. Jack bumps into him from behind due to the sudden stop and when Luke slightly lunges forward and his eyes snap off you for a second, you weren’t there anymore.

“Luke, are you okay? You’ve been acting weird since this morning.” Jack says, gently rubbing his shoulder after running into Luke and all of a sudden Luke can feel anxiety bubbling in his chest. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He states quickly, trying to return back to normal when Jack and Nico look at each other, both equally aware that something’s going on.

What they don’t know can’t hurt them.

I FUCKING HATE THE WAY I ENDED THIS but I wanna post for my pookies

#x reader #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #luke hughes #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes blurb #jack hughes #nico hischier #nj devils #luke hughes smut #ꨄ angie’s works.

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carajilloplz · 5 days

Note

Omg can u write a fic abt Art Donaldson and Patrick trying to hit on foreign exchange student!reader, could end in fluff or smut

no bc this is literally my fantasy i’m an international student at a D1 tennis school IM GONNA GO FERAL. loosely based off of my experience with the cornell men’s tennis team but we’re not talking about that.

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, patrick x international student!tennis player!reader, this might be bad i wrote this over the course of like 3 days and changed the plot completely lol, smoking and drinking, oral!male and female receiving, facesitting, technically cheating? vague but everything is morally dubious with these three, unprotected p in v, hair pulling

uh enjoy ig i hope it's not too bad

Tashi? You’d known her since forever. You attended the same tennis camp when you were girls and never lost contact. Having played a few matches during Juniors, you stayed pretty close. So when you saw her on your match schedule for the upcoming month, you shot her a text saying you had to go out together when you were at Stanford for the weekend.

Your match rolled around and you were definitely focused. Winning meant you stayed at the top of your conference, which wasn’t the ATP ranking but it was still important to you. So you trained, and hard. You were a good player, quick on your feet, and the training paid off in your first doubles game that weekend. Before your game, you got to catch a wave and a smile from Tashi sitting in the stands, next to a mousy-looking blonde guy and a very cocky brunette. You noted that the brunette was more your type, but the blonde was cute enough. Must have been Tashi’s friends.

You started your match, extremely harmonious with your partner, and you swiftly caught every ball headed your way. From the stands, Art and Patrick were shamelessly throwing around comments as they saw the ball bounce back and forth.

“She has an insane serve. I heard she’s like a tennis prodigy in her country.” Art gushes, getting cut off by Patrick quickly with “I don’t know how you’re paying attention to her serve when she has such nice legs. I’d like to have those wrapped around my head soon.”

Winning the game 4-6, you were happy with the result.

You watched Tashi play her doubles match, flawlessly annihilating your teammates. When the time came for yours and Tashi’s match, you felt the playfully challenging energy in the air. Patrick and Art were at the edge of their seats, and as the game started they both were practically drooling at the match. They couldn’t decide whether to look at you, or Tashi, or the ball. Both you and Tashi were smoothly tearing each other to shreds, grunting and running around, you always catching the ball just in time.

“I don’t know how she’s doing it but I think she’s going to beat Tashi” Art mumbles, slumped into his seat as he switched his focus from the ball, to the way you moved, to your figure.

“I call dibs” replies Patrick. He was staring at you too, staring intently and admiring the way your arm smoothly hit the ball with a thwack in a way that threw Tashi off.

“Don’t do that to Tashi.” mumbled Art again, playfully hitting the brunette next to him. He didn’t even take his eyes off of you. He knew too damn well that Patrick could not care less, and didn’t know whether to feel for you or Tashi. Pat and Tashi had been having a rough time anyways, so it was really a matter of time before either of them caved.

Finishing the match, you and Tashi gave each other a friendly hug. You noticed that the two boys that had been sitting with Tashi were rushing down to congratulate the two of them.

“Great game, babe.” The brunette said, giving Tashi a small peck. You noticed that she didn’t really appreciate the gesture. The boy turned to you, “And this is?”

Tashi introduced you, explaining that you went to tennis camp together, the whole history. “And these two idiots are Art and Patrick.”

“Nice to meet you too, you guys play tennis?” you ask, intrigued but it was kind of obvious.

Art answers before Patrick can open his mouth— “Yeah, I play here at Stanford too, I’m just injured right now,” he says, pointing to his shoulder, which had muscle tape peeking from the sleeve of his shirt. “Pat’s just… there.”

“Hey! I play too, dipshit. I’m playing the Miami Open in a few weeks.”

Tashi was done with her games of the day, and said she’d be taking a short break. “I’m going to take a shower and heading to bars later, want to come?” She asks.”You can come and get ready in my dorm with me.” You nod in approval, following them as you headed to the locker rooms. Patrick and Tashi were walking together as he was clearly rambling about something that she was unfazed by.

“So they’re a thing huh?” you ask Art, who was walking next to you.

“Yeah I mean, he comes to visit every once in a while but I don’t think that they’ve quite put a label on it yet.” He answers quite honestly, “She’s a very focused person.”

“I know, that’s why it was strange to me that she was with somebody.”

Art nodded in understanding, “I know, I say the same thing and they’re surprisingly sticking it out.”

“Honestly I don’t know how she does it.” you admit. The few times you had been involved with someone it went to shit because of your schedule.

“What do you mean? I thought Tashi said you were dating someone.” Art asks, furrowing his brow.

“Oh no, I broke up with him forever ago, he was on my team before he had to stop playing because of an injury. He’s a full-on NARP now and that really got in the way.” You scoff slightly, laughing to yourself and shaking your head. “Doesn’t seem strange to me that Tash wouldn’t check my Facebook, I’ve deleted all my posts with him since.”

“Yeah she’s like that,” muses Art. “Lives in her own world and we’re all moons revolving around it.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

After changing in the locker rooms and staying to watch the rest of the singles games, you headed to your hotel to freshen up a little to head to Tashi’s and get ready.

Walking over to the dorm, you run into Patrick, already wearing what you assumed to be his bar clothes — some jeans, nikes, and a gray shirt that says ‘I told ya’.

“Hey Patrick, you heading to Tashi’s?” you say amicably, trying to strike conversation with your friend’s…? You don’t know what he was.

“Yeah, you?” he asks, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and lighting one. Pat sends the pack your way as an offering “Want one?”

“Yes please, and yeah, I’m getting ready at Tashi’s for tonight. She’d said we would go to bars?”

Patrick goes to light your cigarette and you two continue your walk towards the dorm. “I think you look gorgeous just like that, but to each their own.”

You roll your eyes and fill the rest of the walk with small talk, which to your relief was a relatively short walk so it didn’t get too awkward. As you headed into the elevator, you went to press the button and couldn’t remember what floor Tashi had mentioned. “On what floor does she live?” You ask, as the elevator comes to a close. You could feel his eyes on you. Looking back at him, you catch him staring and give him a questioning look.

“Patrick?”

“6th floor”

A moment of silence passes between you two. He, of course, breaks it. “Your accent is cute. I don’t know, it fits you.” Patrick is very clearly snaking his eyes up and down your figure, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to stop yourself. “You’re not from around here are y-”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Patrick, but you’re with my friend and that is not something I want to intrude in.” You snap. It felt a little mean but it’s not something you’d want to do to Tashi.

He snorts, laughing to himself and furrowing his brow, “I’m not with Tashi, if you haven’t noticed. She barely gives me the time of day unless she wants me to fuck her.”

You’re surprised at his statement, a little less so at his crass choice of words, but you realized that that’s the kind of person he was. Extremely conflicted with how to react, you noticed the lustful look in his eye and the little bite he gave the inside of his cheek. You couldn’t. You turned away and looked at the numbers of the floors go up excruciatingly slow. Pat hesitated, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

“If it raises the chances of you being interested in me, then no. For all intents and purposes I am not with Tashi.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Later that night, at some dingy college bar, both Patrick and Art were inquisitively leaning towards you and Tashi. You'd all had your fair share of drinks and there was something in the air, you didn't know what it was but it made you feel magnetic, especically towards Art and Patrick. You liked Art and everything, but you couldn’t help but notice how he would always be catching a look at Tash and sweeping in to mediate when she and Pat would begin a harmless spat. Patrick, on the other hand, had very much caught your eye. Something about him made you curious, maybe it was his nonchalance and light cockiness towards everything. But from your previous conversation, you now knew that he was clearly intrigued by you, leaning his head to the side like a confused puppy as he listened to you explain that you were an international student.

“Oh so you’re far far from home” He comments, “And you’re not from the US?”

“Don’t act too surprised Pat, a lot of international students come to US universities to play tennis.” you reply, “And yes, I’m pretty far from home”

He nods in understanding. “That’s cool, honestly. I’d love to visit and see what your country’s like.”

You smile back, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and the liquid confidence taking over, “You can come anytime.”

Eventually, you and Patrick keep up the conversation, drinks flowing, and notice that Art and Tashi had disappeared, God knows where.

“Did they really leave us here?” Patrick asks, bewildered when he noticed that Art and Tashi were nowhere to be seen. You shrugged. “I mean, I don’t mind it to be honest. I had to head to my hotel so I would have been going back alone anyways.”

“I can’t let you do that, that’s dangerous.” Patrick said, quickly inserting himself as the hero of the situation. “I’ll take you to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

“Oh just at a Holiday Inn down the street.”

“No way! I’m staying in that one too,” he says. “C’mon I’ll walk you back.”

You don’t know if it was the drinks or the tension you still had from today’s game but somehow, you ended up making out with Patrick in the elevator on your way up to your room. Patrick’s lips clashed against yours, bringing you closely into his embrace as you two killed the time before getting to your room. You separated the kiss for a moment, looking Pat dead in the eye.

“Not a word to Tashi about this.”

“No worries baby, she wouldn’t even care. She’s probably busy doing Art right now. She prefers him.” he admits, shrugging unconcerned and leaning back in to kiss you.

Luckily, your room was one of the first ones accessible as you got out of the elevator, so you reached into your pocket as you both stumbled towards the door. You fumbled with the key for a moment as Pat left some kisses on your throat, lost in you and your every move.

Finally being able to open the door, you two connected in a kiss once more and clumsily moved towards the bed, clothes coming off sloppily. Bumping against the end of the bed, you and Patrick fall onto the soft and fluffy duvet, heavenly on your tired muscles, heightening the pleasurable sensations of Pat’s lips on yours.

His kisses were desperate, frantic, rushed, matching all the possible descriptive words for the way he was reaching at all of the grippable parts of you as he sloppily kissed you, teeth clashing. He was panting, and you were also desperately clawing at his t-shirt, moving your tongue against his and travelling your hands back into his hair. There was something about how the two of you just melded together, maybe fuelled by the underlying guilt of what you were doing, but also the insatiable need to blow off some fuckin’ steam.

You could feel how he was starting to grow hard in his jeans, starting to kiss your jaw and neck.

“Let me get on top, Patrick” you gasp, out of breath, pulling him back into the kiss and rolling over so you’re straddling him. He’s reaching up to you, grabbing your ass as you wrap your arms around his neck in order to keep him close. You start rolling your hips, bringing yourself to hit that sweet spot, easily accessible through under your skirt, and moaning into his mouth at the feeling. Gripping the edges of his shirt, he follows your lead of taking it off as you remove your top as well. For a moment he stops, slowly leaning back into his elbows, taking the sight of you squirming on top of him.

“Suck my dick.” He says, something so gluttonous yet pleading in his eyes. “Please.”

You look down at him, licking your bottom lip at the mere though of hearing his moans with your mouth on him. Nodding, slowly, you start kissing at his body, making your way down and occasionally looking back up at him. He’s got his head thrown back taking in the tenderness of your touch. You get to his jeans, tented up by his hard cock and start unbuckling his belt. Making your way through his layers, you reach into his jeans and start palming him, feeling how hard you had made him feel. You hear him moan shamelessly at this, saying your name and encouraging you to continue.

He starts pulling his jeans and underwear down, barely enough for you to be able to access his cock, which you grab in your hand and spit on, beginning to pleasure him. His moans are loud as you continue, licking his tip and sending him into a spiral, moaning a load of curses and your name. As you keep going, he starts tangling his hands in your hair and trying his best to get it out of your face.

“God, baby you look so good like that sucking my cock, fuck.” He groans, throwing his head back. You look up at him, and his blissed out expression just fuels you even more, his stomach muscles contracting and his eyes scrunching closed giving you more of a reason to keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock. You gag around him, your mouth already salivating and sloppy, and you went up to take a breath.

“Want to return the favor, Pat?” you ask, looking up at him through half-lidded, pleading eyes while you kept languidly stroking his cock. He took a single look at you and nodded.

“Yeah, of course baby,” he says as you sit up. “C’mon, get on me.”

You furrow your brow— “You want me to sit on your face?” You reply with a smirk, climbing up his body

He smirks back, “How else would I return the favor?” Pat leans in to give you one, long hard kiss, the taste of himself in your mouth making his dick twitch. “Can’t wait to taste ya, babe”

You giggle, straddling him as he moves backwards a little in order to reach under you. At the first contact his lips have with your throbbing pussy, you let out a surprised moan and you grip his hair. He grabs your hips, a strong grip pulling you down towards him and making you have to find support against the headboard.

“Fuck, Patrick that feels so good.” You moan, throwing your head back and leaning into his grip. You didn’t care if he suffocated right now, at this point what was of utmost importance was the pressure in your stomach building as he continued to run his tongue along your folds, taking his time to kiss at your sensitive clit. He really did know what he was doing.

“Patrick please, shit you’re gonna make me come.” He doesn’t budge, just pulls you closer and nods his head against you, speeding up his movements and making you a moaning mess, gripping at his hair and rocking your hips against his mouth to keep that momentum and buildup in your belly. Patrick clearly senses this, moving his tongue faster and more intensely.

“Cum, baby” you feel him mumble. Immediately at his words, you feel yourself snap and a rush of energy archs your back and makes you gush all over his face. He comes up, making you straddle him, and he smiles at you with his mouth still glistening with your release, looking voraciouslt at you.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Patrick brings you into a passionate kiss, once again sloppily coming together with him manouvering himself to be on top of you. All of your clothes had come off at some point, all of the contact had been so frantic, truly taking your mind off of everything else as you felt him on you. He was rock hard, still aroused from your blowjob, and he started nudging the tip of his cock on your entrance. You come back to your senses, pushing him away for a moment and giving him a look, which he quickly realized what it meant.

“Fuck I— I’ll just buy you a pill tomorrow.”

This was enough for you to give him a nod and make him start sliding inside you, letting out a heavy groan as he bottomed out. You let out a tense moan, grabbing at the bedsheets next to your head, and bringing your arms around his back as he began his thrusts, breathing hard into your neck, kissing it erratically between moans.

“You’re so tight, oh my God” He groans, picking up his pace, making you a moaning mess and pulling him closer to you. He was hitting a spot inside you that was bringing your orgasm back, the pressure in your belly building again as he roughly grabbed your hips. Patrick brought his lips back to yours, sloppily kissing you with tongue to shut your high-pitched whines up. “Don’t be too loud baby, your neighbors are going to complain.”

A solution clearly comes into his mind as he sits back and turns you around to be on all fours, the sudden force on you making you yelp as he pushed you down against the pillow. He teases his cockhead against your folds, then reaches down to speak wantonly into your ear. “Now you can be as loud as you want baby.”

At that, you melt in his touch and let out a long, languid moan at the feeling of him slipping into your cunt, sopping with your arousal and absorbing his hard thrusts. You scream into the pillow as the pressure in your core keeps building and his thrusts hit the right spot that send you into a delirium. Patrick is a moaning mess behind you, the obscene combination of sounds, skin against skin and pleasurable moans making him even more aroused. He’s harsh, pulling your hips to match his pace and you feel him reach up and pull your hair back, revealing your fucked out face to him. “Make me cum again, please Patrick.” you groan, rolling your eyes backwards in pleasure as he speeds up his thrusts, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m going to come baby—” he moans, his thrusts made more erratic at the sensation of your cunt around him. You begin to feel yourself let go as he thrusts sloppily one, two, three more times and pulls out of you, coming all over your back. You collapse under him, and he kneels back to admire your gorgeous ass painted by his work. “Patrick, you better not tell Tashi about this.” He hears, mumbled tiredly from under your messed up hair. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes (because really, you were thinking about that now?), he gets off the bed, walking into your bathroom to grab a towel for your spent, cum-stained body.

a/n: hope u enjoyed ig !! took me forever lol but if you liked this would like to request some ideas you are more than welcome to !!

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan #challengers

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bigtreefest · 10 days

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Chapter 8b: Last Night

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s last night on your farm

Word count: 2,645

Content/warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, p in v protected sex, crying during sex (well technically after), dry humping, vaginal fingering, sweet soft intimacy, kissing

Author’s Note: This could probably be read as a stand-alone, but I’ll catch you up in case you feel confused. Bucky made a business deal to work on your farm for a month. This is the last afternoon/night of that after spending all that time side-by-side. If you’re interested in the series, you can catch up with the link below or check out the rest of the Outta Nowhere AU

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

On the final Saturday that Bucky was at the farm, the two of you practically stayed pressed together. It’s not as if you were unproductive, but you were glued at the hip, never leaving the office for too long without the other under the guise of tying up loose business ends before his departure. You knew once he was gone, he’d have to take all his burdens back off Steve, leaving him swamped with work, unable to pay you any more attention than he did his other associates.

With your efficiency and his inability to say no to you, all ‘work’ had been completed before noon. Sure, you could’ve dragged it out, but then you wouldn’t have had time to just enjoy each other’s presence like you had gotten used to. Before that could happen, though, you presented him with one last task.

Bucky sat on your oversized desk chair with you in between his legs. His chin was tucked over your shoulder as he rubbed up and down your thigh with his ringed hand. The cool metal gave you goosebumps on your bare skin, the nice weather allowing you to wear shorts and the lack of physical labor giving Bucky the opportunity to don his jewelry once again. You ignored the way your body shuddered at his touch, instead looking back at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Okay, cowboy. I think we’ve got your first few months of shipments all planned, so now onto my last order of business.”

He cocked his head to look at you with an amused, but tentative smile. “And what might that be?”

“Pull out a pen.” You stood up and shuffled the papers on your desk, looking for a blank one and setting it in front of him. You took a seat on the other side, not missing his slight pout and confusion as to why you moved so far and what was going on.

“Now that we’ve reached the end of the month, I want to assess what you’ve learned. I’m gonna shoot questions at you, and you write your answer so we can determine whether or not you actually took in information or just followed me around and mooched off my free meals.”

Bucky laughed when you shot him a wink and happily obliged you, a sparkle in his eyes, admiring the way you were demanding something of him with a sweet smile on your face, just like the first time you met. He gave a slight nod, pen at the ready. “Alright, sweet Honeybee. Hit me with it.”

You crossed your arms and legs, watching him as you rattled everything off you could think of, from super obvious things, like which animal lays eggs, to asking nearly impossible things, like the brand of feed given to the dairy cows. Bucky’s reactions to each question were a treat, some causing him to light up with knowledge, others making him roll his eyes at your specificity.

“Last question. This one’s worth a thousand points. Write something you think will impress me. Something out of the blue, whatever’s on your mind. Anything at all.”

Bucky sat there for a moment, tapping the cap of the pen against his bottom lip in thought. You watched his playful features morph into something serious, something soft, as he scribbled one line at the bottom of the paper.

‘I wish I could stay here longer.’

You leaned forward so could read his paper upside down, scanning the answers, each one surprisingly correct. Not a single one was off and he even put more information than you’d asked for on some of them. You were not only amazed with the way he indulged your ridiculous request, but with how this whole time, he had actually been listening and watching, holding onto every word and fulfilling his side of the deal.

As you looked up from the paper and into his eyes, you could feel the warmth through his gaze even that far apart. You stood up again and Bucky did the same, coming around to meet you. It was as if your bodies were magnetic, drawing you towards each other until his one hand was on your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist as yours perched on his hips.

His eyes shifted between yours and he closed his eyes, drawing his forehead against yours before he spoke against your lips. “I’m serious. I love every moment with you. And I’m sorry it’ll have to end.”

You swallowed and let your eyes flutter closed as you leaned into his touch and nodded. “I know. But I get that you have work to do and it was already a lot for me to request you being here for so long. But just…for right now, be with me. Enjoy what little time is left of this with me. Please.” It came out as a whisper, a plea for him to remain present while he still could. You opened your eyes and looked up through your lashes to see him searching for your gaze.

He whispered back, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Say the word and it’s yours. I’m yours. And I’ll be right there if you ever need anything. Whatever you want, Honey. And right now, I’m here with you. I only want to be… with you.”

Your eyes closed again and you nestled into his chest in satisfaction at the depth of his words. You knew he was saying he would be present, but it meant so much more. For him to make a promise like that, extending beyond just business, made you feel supported, protected, embraced.

He pulled you closer if that was even possible and pressed his lips to your hairline, then using his hand against your cheek, he pulled your head so you were both leaning back enough that your gazes met before he smashed his lips against yours. It was with purpose and a new sort of urgency that you hadn’t really experienced in the slower kisses and pecks you had shared. You began to walk backwards and Bucky followed, lips attached to yours in a near-lock as your tongues danced, not unlike your feet, performing similarly to the two-step you had taught him weeks before. Your hands slid up a down his chest and began to pop open the buttons of his flannel shirt as his ran under yours, feeling the softness of your belly and tracing upwards, raising the hem of your shirt as his callused fingertips sent a thrill through you.

The two of you removed your clothing piece by piece, discarding them carelessly as you crossed through the living room and waltzed carefully up the steps, grateful Peter was out of the house for the day and helping Curtis with the weekend chores.

Clad only in underwear, you grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards your room, falling down on the bed as he crawled over you. His lips met yours once again as you widened your legs, allowing his hips to grind on your core. Your gasp at the sensation allowed Bucky’s tongue to explore your mouth, swallowing down each other’s moans and drawing closer and closer. Bucky pulled away for a second to catch his breath, the both of you looking deeply into the other’s eyes and panting.

His fingers traced down your side to play with the hem of your cotton panties, and you nodded, wordlessly giving him the permission he needed to pull them down. Bucky groaned at the sight of the damp fabric as he dragged the material down your legs, kissing back up your body and stoping to lovingly lick and nip at your neck as you whined and writhed for some sort of friction again.

“Jamie, please.”

He smiled and sighed at the way you begged for his touch, not used to being the one in control of anything since he’d been here, and now holding your pleasure in his hands. His fingers reached down to find your clit, dipping towards your entrance first to gather your arousal before making slow, teasing circles on the sensitive button. His soft touch set your body on fire. It had been so long since you’d been this intimate with anyone, all of your focus on the farm, and the exhaustion after a long week, not to mention the hurt from Jake deterring you from the desire for a partner.

“I’m here, I’m with you, Honey. I’ve got you-give you whatever you want. Just wanna make you feel good.”

Sensing your sensitivity and deducing how long it had likely been for you, Bucky slowly slid his middle finger through your slit, his eyes never leaving your face. He didn’t want to miss a single second of the way you nearly crumbled under his touch. Your eyes were half-lidded in pleasure as your body lurched forward at his slow, gentle intrusion, accompanied by a moan. He drank in the view, more gorgeous than he imagined you could be, back bowing at his touch. Bucky added another finger and the sensation of the cool metal against the heat between your legs was almost too much to handle.

Your legs began to shake as he slowly coaxed in a third finger, his thumb gently strumming your clit, deft fingers stretching your entrance. The feeling was overwhelming and pushing you impossibly close to an edge you hadn’t experienced in years at the hands of another.

“Jamie, Jamie it’s so much. So good. I’m so close.” It came out between hiccuping gasps as you tucked your face into his neck, throwing your arms around his muscular back and legs around his waist, pinning his hand between your bodies. You were clinging to him with your whole being as you reached your peak with a keen, pussy clenching his fingers almost painfully, but Bucky didn’t mind. He would’ve let you break his arm to see and feel the way he was wringing pleasure from the distant corners of your body right now. He continued to slowly pump his fingers against your walls, bringing you down from your high.

You would’ve collapsed onto the bed if Bucky hadn’t had a firm arm behind you, holding you to his chest where you had curled into him, as you gasped for air. You were finally able to pull your face away and look into his eyes again, his burning with desire and yours hazy with post-orgasmic bliss.

“Do you, uh, do you have a-“ Bucky’s eager nod cut you off as he pressed another sloppy kiss against your lips before slinking back off the bed and walking towards his bag in the corner of the room.

“I think so. Let me check.” Bucky hadn’t expected anything like this to happen over this month, so he definitely didn’t have a condom prepared. Perhaps his emergency one was still in his wallet, but he honestly wasn’t sure. He was pleasantly surprised to find it easily, rolling it on and coming back on the bed towards you.

As he hovered over you, you ran your hands along the scruff on the sides of his cheeks before pulling him down for another kiss. You could feel the weight of his hard length resting against your lower stomach, reaching down to stroke him gently. Bucky tensed at the sensation with a groan, throwing his head toward your shoulder and taking the opportunity to kiss your neck and down your collarbone before making his plea.

“Ride me, Honey. Need to feel you.”

You bit your lip nodding, complying with his request and moving to sit up as Bucky laid down against your pillows, right next to where you had just been sprawled out. You shuffled on your knees to straddle his hips, grinding down and letting his cock run through your folds, slick in preparation for him. You reached a hand down to perch his tip at your entrance, basking in the groan he let out at the sight. You slowly lowered yourself, the broad tip pushing your walls outward, pressure causing you to sharply gasp when he passed the threshold of your tight hole.

Your thigh muscles strained as you attempted to slowly but steadily lower yourself on his length, hyper aware of the delicious stretch of his thick cock inside you. The two of you sighed in relief as you bottomed out, nails gripping tightly into Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky held your hips as you adjusted to him, careful to not squeeze too hard from every time your tightness choked his dick. He fought the urge to throw his head back against the headboard, wanting to keep his eyes on you and where your bodies were connected. The sight of you splitting yourself open over him nearly made him come on the spot, but he tightened every muscle in his body again, trying to resist the urge. He only had one condom, after all, and he wanted to drag out this feeling for as long as possible.

He could see it on your face and feel your body start to relax as your nails gently scratched over his tattooed chest. You rocked your hips, testing the waters, and dragging a whine from both your lips. Your speed picked up, his hands continuing to guide you, finding a smooth rhythm that pulled moans, grunts, and gasps out of the two of you, until just like before, Bucky could feel you clenching again. He lowered his one hand, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tender circles, leading you both barreling towards a shared peak. Your hips stuttered and wavered with exhaustion, but Bucky continued guiding you with his firm, strong hand.

“C’mon Honey. You can do it. I can feel you’re close. Let go for me, sweet thing. Please. Come with me.” His voice was gruff, dripping with desire.

Your hands ran down the muscles of his torso and squeezed against his abs, nails digging in slightly. You used your last bit of energy to nod your head and urge him to help you along. Bucky planted his feet on the mattress, thrusting in tandem with the grind of your hips. You leaned down for a final kiss, wanting to be ever closer to him. As he gave into the gesture, it felt like everything hit you at once along with your shared orgasm: the sweet, tender moment, the reverence and respect he was treating you with throughout, and the fact that you didn’t know if it would ever happen again or if you’d see him after tomorrow.

Bucky came with a deep, but soft growl beneath you as he stroked your hair after you’d pulled away from his lips and tucked yourself into his neck again. He sat there, letting you cling to him for a second before he felt the unexpected wetness against his shoulder. Tears has started streaming down your face, and when Bucky caught a glimpse, his look was similar. Jaw clenched with water in his eyes.

The next morning, it was time for Bucky to go. The two of you had arranged it so you could have one last drive to the gas station together where you’d be meeting Gio.

Bucky convinced you to let him drive your truck for a final time, and you agreed, easily giving in to his request. He drove with the windows down, radio low on the dash, and one hand on the wheel. The other rested on your thigh while you clutched the arm attached to it against your chest and rested your head on his shoulder. His cheek was pressed against the top of your head. Bucky’s callused thumb made small circles on your skin as the breeze blew through the cab, paired with the warm glow of the early morning light, sun shining on your time together like it always had.

Next >

Bonus A/N: All this writing and this is the first time I’ve done smut for Bucky. I hope you enjoyed, I’d love to hear what you thought from a comment, reblog, or ask!!!

Series Taglist: @mrsnikstan @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22

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sinofwriting · 3 months

Text

Judo Tracks - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,535 Summary: What happens when an Formula 2 (cough and now technically kind of an F1) driver and an Olympic gold medalist Judoka start dating? Note(s): Thank you so much to V on Kofi for commissioning this! I had so much fun writing it (and I got to do so much research and take so many notes for). Reader does Judo. Uta Abe is the inspiration for reader and I’ve used her amazing achievements as readers as well. Also, mentions of blood, injuries, pain. I also completely changed the 2024 F1 season because of Ollie being called up for Saudi Arabia (I literally could not help myself). Fun fact: Ollie Bearman with just his rookie F2 season in 2023 has just over triple the amount of points needed for a super license (aka the license for F1).

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

She takes a deep breath, eyes closed as she lets the feeling of the sun hit her skin, pouring into her as she stretches out on the grass. Her thighs and calves are burning, her big toe has split open again, Jain will have her head for it. Her arms are loose by her side, wrist aching as she rotates them. Letting out the breath, her eyes open.

The brick in front of her is rugged, chipped, and would be considered peeling if it was painted instead. It’s like cinder. The cinder at the first gym she went to, not old but worn down and chipped at from overuse and abuse. She still has a piece of the first cinder block she broke skin on, blood speckling a small corner of it. Another piece from the first one she broke. Her hand throbs at the memory and she flexes it.

Her eyes flicker to her hands. Calluses and scars decorate them. Dents and bumps, spots dark and light. Clenching them, she watches as the skin stretches over bone, more scars seeming to pop out, becoming angrier. It’s a miracle, she supposes that the skin of her hands is still soft.

“You didn’t take your phone.” She doesn’t flinch at the sudden sound of a voice or the body that plops down next to her in the grass. “I needed to breathe.” They huff out a laugh. “Kid. No one is going to tell you not to breathe. We’d actually prefer it.” They nudge her shoulder lightly, teasing, but she doesn’t return it, can’t. Her eyes are still glued to her hands, to the skin she can see, the bones underneath them. They sigh and it feels like a punch to the gut. “What’s going on?” “I fucked up.” Tears are stinging her eyes and it makes her dig her nails into palms, body starting to shake. “I had one chance and I fucking blew it. This is my thing.” She shakes her head. “This is the one thing I have, the one thing I’m good at and I blew my chance.” “You didn’t blow your chance. Ridgle did a dirty move, you got injured. It happens. You’ll recover, you are recovering. You won’t make it this year, but next year? You’re gonna win, kid.” She looks at Jain, tears in her eyes that she still won’t let fall, a quiver to her lip, and her voice so small and high at just fourteen. “Really?” “Really, kid.” Jain smiles, patting her on the shoulder. It makes her nod and she forces herself to take a few breaths, forces the tears away, and then she looks away sheepishly at her feet, at her left foot. “I might’ve split open my big toe again.” Jain lets out a groan, “Dammit kid. Didn’t I just fix that up for you?”

—

She doesn’t want to be here. She knows that, Jain knows that, her parents know it, Amy knows it and she’s sure that the poor driver who was forced to drive her here knows it as well.

Hunkering down in a corner, she drains the glass of whiskey she managed to snag from the bar. The taste makes her nose wrinkle, and the sound of a chuckle makes her tense.

“Strong?” She turns her head, eyebrows furrowed for all of a second before they loosen from her eyes widening. The guy was cute. A little boyish, but she was constantly surrounded by guys that weren’t. It was a lot of weird large muscles, clear scars and repeatedly broken noses, baby fat gone as soon as their balls dropped. Not that she notices any baby fat as she looks closer at his face. “No.” She finally says. “Really weak, watered down, probably.” He huffs out of a laugh. “Wouldn’t think that they’d served watered down drinks, but who knows how they want to save their money.” “If they wanted to save their money, they wouldn’t throw this event.” She scowls. He nods, smile a touch sympathetic now. “Not a fan.” “Not in my job description.” She corrects. “It is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?” She nods fast. “Yes! So ridiculous.”

He smiles at her, extending a hand. “My names Ollie.” “Y/N.” She tells him, shaking his hand. He repeats her name to himself after letting go of her hand. “Want to ditch with me?” She looks at the rest of the large room, eyes lingering on the bar, but she wouldn’t need that if she left. “Absolutely.”

—

“So,” she asks two hours after they’ve left, a shared meal between them. “What sport?” He looks at her amused. “Guess.” Her eyes narrow at him, and she tugs the fries away from him a bit. Cheekiness didn’t get you fries as far as she was concerned. Her fingers lightly tap against the table as she lets her eyes drink his form in.

He was lithe, no heavy, thick, full muscles. But he was muscled, a little bit like a swimmer or a runner, all hidden strength. His build alone ruled out MMA, boxing, and sports like it. Also, the perfect unbroken nose was a dead give away. Maybe football, but he was a little awkward in certain movements that didn’t line up with the few footy players she had been around. He was tall too, which made things even more interesting.

She wondered if somehow he made it into basketball or baseball, primarily American sports, and they had their international players, but she had never heard of a British one.

Her eyes linger on his neck, the muscle was weirdly developed. “You aren’t one of those guys who do the slap competitions, are you?” He laughs, shaking his head. “No.” She hums, “I’ve got no idea. Is it something weird? Something I’ve never heard of?” “Padel. Junior champion.” He tells her with a smile. Her eyes immediately dropped to his hands. “Bullshit.” He laughs again. “Not padel. I’m an F2 driver.” “Ah.” She nods, leaning back in her seat. “That explains the neck.”

—

“Ollie!” She looks behind her at the sound of Jain’s voice. Just barely catching a glimpse of Ollie before she has to straighten back out, she only had a few more minutes of her run to do then her cooldown, she could wait. “Hi, Jain. How are you doing?” “I’m doing good.” They smile at the kid. “She’s keeping me busy of course. How are you, though? Nervous for your next race?” “A little bit. I feel like I haven’t done enough y’know? Hopefully Baku will be better for me.” Jain shakes his head. “You're doing great for a rookie Ollie. I know this one,” they tilt their head towards her. “Is excited to be going with you. Hasn’t shut up about it.” They tease. “I can hear you, Jain.” She says, taking a drink of water as she slows the treadmill down a bit. “And I will kick your ass again.” Ollie stifles a laugh as he watches Jain roll their eyes at the threat, though he doesn’t miss the way her trainer pats at their ribs.

He watches her finish out her workout, trying not to let his eyes linger too much on her, but knows he doesn’t succeed by the way Jain snorts and how she seems to purposely draw out a few stretches.

Reaching into a fridge, Jain tosses a drink at her. “Drink that, shower, and get out of the gym. I will see you both when you're back from Baku and do not go to the gym more than Ollie does. This is your rest period. You go when he goes and don’t push, even with a trainer.” “Got it.” She nods, smiling. “Thank you, Jain.” They smile at her. “Of course, kid. Now have fun both of you and I’ll make sure to watch the races Ollie.” “Thanks, Jain.”

The two watch as the trainer goes to the back part of the gym where an office is. When the door shuts she finally looks at Ollie. “Hi.” He grins at her, eyes getting all crinkly. “Hi.” She wants to dart forward to hug him, kiss him, but she’s all too aware of the sweat covering every inch of her body. Twisting the cap off the drink, she quickly chugs it, not really wanting to taste what’s arguably the worst flavor of all the drinks that Jain makes her drink. Tossing the container in the bin, she gives him a sorry smile. “Let me shower and then we can,” she gestures between their bodies. “Darling,” blood instantly rushes to her cheeks. “I don’t need to wait for you to shower.” And before she can protest, his hands are framing her face and his lips are against hers.

Her eyes instantly flutter close at the contact, sighing into the kiss as her own hands come up to rest just below his wrists. Keeping his hands there despite what she had just said. She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, just soft presses of their lips, but she pulls away when he gives a small lick to her bottom lip.

“Trust me, Ollie, you don’t want that until after I brush my teeth.” The taste of the drink still lingered a bit on her tongue despite how quickly she had downed it. His lips form a pout, but he nods. “Alright. Be quick though? I’ve missed you.” She presses another kiss to his lips. “I’ll be quick.”

—

Ollie crosses the finish line and the whole garage goes nuts, just like it did yesterday, just like it somewhat did when Ollie managed to get pole with bent steering the day before that one.

There are tears in her eyes as she jumps around and screams with everyone at Prema. All of them start heading over to parc fermé and she goes to stay back, but René is pushing her along, passing her to the lead mechanic on Ollie’s car who puts himself between her and the rest of the people behind him as she’s nearly squished against the bars. It’s a sweet gesture, one that would make her laugh if she wasn’t overwhelmed with pride and happiness for Ollie.

She watches as he parks the car, watches as he gets out, watches as he runs over to throw himself into the arms of the mechanics just beside her. Watches as he tries to touch everyone at Prema, as he tries to talk to them but his helmet muffles his voice. Watches when he’s set back down and he notices her. Watches as he immediately starts wrestling with his helmet, yanking it, the neck part she can never remember the name for, and his baklava before he’s got his free hand on her neck and is drawing her in for a kiss.

—

She smiles at Ollie as she walks into the locker room. There’s a bit of worry in his eyes and she knows it's from how she’s got an arm around her ribs, but he also looks proud. “What’d you think?” “It was amazing. I mean, I had never watched any of this before meeting you, but it was so cool. And that kick you did at the end, it looked so easy!” She huffs out a laugh at his excitement, wincing a little at the pulling it does, but she ignores the pain. Jain wasn’t forcing her to sit down and get looked at yet, which meant she had just enough time to do this: extending her free arm, her fingers clutch at Ollie’s shirt, pulling him forward and down a bit to press their lips together.

“Congrats on winning.” He murmurs against her lips after a moment, the both of them just taking the moment. Blood rushes to her cheeks at the soft murmur. “Thank you for coming.” “Anytime I can, I’ll be here.” He tells her, echoing her words from Baku.

—

Her hands are clasped together, tucked under her chin as she watches the screens, her brows occasionally pressing together as she watches the cars go around. Feeling a small ache in her right foot, she shifts her weight only to gasp out in pain.

“Fuck.” She breathes. The man standing next to her tears his eyes away from the screen, and an arm is quickly wrapped around her waist. “Let’s get you sat down somewhere.” She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. I just put too much weight on it.” “Y/N,” he warns. “You need to stay off it. At least let someone get you a chair.” “David, I’ll be okay. Continue watching and I’ll find somewhere to sit.” He gives her a look, hearing the lie, but his eyes are quickly drawn to the car pulling into the garage.

She quickly moves away, wincing with every step and she just knows that when Ollie gets out of the car and is done with his press he’s going to be pissed. Jain was going to be pissed as well when Ollie inevitably tells them.

“Stop.” She halts at the sound of Andrea’s voice. Turning around, she gives Charles’ trainer a smile. “Hi Andrea. Will you still be helping Ollie with his cooldown after quali?” He gives her an unamused look. “I know that your knee is hurting. Now, come.” She wants to protest, but he gives her a look and she follows after him.

Entering Charles’ driver room, she easily hops onto the massage bed, folding her skirt up so the shorts she’s wearing underneath are exposed along with her knees.

He hisses as he looks at her left. “You’ve been putting too much weight on it.” “It’s fine, Andrea. I can’t just rest.” “You can when the muscle needs to heal. And it will heal.” Her jaw clenches and her eyes lock onto the clock in the room. “It will.” She gives him that, just like she gave the doctors, Ollie, and Jain. “But will it go back to normal? Not be weakened?” She shrugs. “Who knows? I just know that I got distracted during a match and nearly blew out my knee. So much for another Olympic medal. My career is over.” He scoffs, opening a jar of ointment. “Your career is not over, far from it. There are still months before the Olympics as well. You are young, just nineteen. You heal quicker, you just need to give your body time to rest, to heal. You can’t stand for so long or workout and train as you normally would. It needs time to recover.” She winces as he starts applying the cream. “I can’t though. It’s the Olympics. All I’m supposed to be doing is training and now I can’t. That lack of training could cost me.” “And training now will cost you a knee. It nearly blew out, but didn’t. You continue like this, it will and then your career will be over.”

“You have to take it easy.” He stresses after a few minutes of just silence in the room, finally done with the ointment and gentle massage to it. “I know Jain has told you that. Your doctors, Ollie. And I know that maybe my opinion doesn’t matter much.” She looks at him for the first time since entering the room with a scoff, frowning as tears threaten to fall from her eyes. “Of course it matters.” “Then listen.” He takes her hands in his, grateful that he wiped them with a towel already. “You will recover from this, heal from this, and you will be stronger because of it.” She shakes her head, tears falling and the words that have been building up inside of her since her injury happened come spilling out. “I’m scared, Andrea. This is nothing like my last injury. And I thought my career was over then. This is so much worse and Ollie,” she sobs. “Ollie has so much to worry about, the car wasn’t good last weekend and now he’s in an F1 car, in a Ferrari, I can’t add more to him. I don’t know what to do without Judo. Without the competitions, the training. I’ve been doing this since I was two. I don’t know anything else.” “And you don’t have to worry about knowing anything else. Not for nearly ten years. But think about it like this, while you rest, you think about your future. You think about your five year, ten year plans. You try some new things. You talk to Ollie and Jain. Because I know that you haven’t talked to them either.” She nods, sniffling as she wipes away her tears. “Okay.” She whispers. “Good.” He nods, before wrapping her up in a hug.

“Now, I’m going to get you a chair and you are going to sit in it and watch the rest of quali in it, yes?” “Yes.”

—

“Congrats on your first F1 points, baby.” She murmurs to Ollie hours after the race, finally back at their hotel room after the celebrations that had occurred and the team debriefs. He beams at her. “I still can’t believe it. I mean, I just didn’t want to damage the car, just wanted to bring it home.” She laughs, “well, you more than brought it home.”

Lopping her arms around his neck, she kisses him. “I’m so happy for you.” “I’m really happy too. And I’m happy you could be here, I know that you would have missed it due to training.” She shakes her head, “even if it wasn’t for my knee, I would’ve canceled my training sessions for this, hopped on the first flight. I couldn’t miss this. I didn’t miss any of your FP1 sessions last season. I wouldn’t miss this.” He smiles at her, “I’m just happy that I already cleared it with Prema for Spa, that I can leave immediately after quali. I have to see you win your second Olympic medal.” Her smile flatters a bit at the thought of the Olympics. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I wasn’t going to tonight, but do you mind?” He shakes his head and he sits down on the bed, taking her with him. “Of course not. What’s going on?”

Her lips thin and the words that she had managed to say to Andrea feel trapped in her throat. But she forces them out. “I haven’t been okay since my knee got fucked up. And I know you noticed.” It was impossible to not notice the way he’d worriedly look at her. “Just like you noticed that none of the swelling has gone down.” “It really hasn’t.” His hand gently rests on her thigh, squeezing the muscle. “Is something wrong? I mean more wrong?” She shakes her head. “I uh, I got in my head, that I fucked it all up.” She lets out a laugh and she hates that tears are coming to her eyes. Hadn’t she cried enough yesterday about this? “I was pretty sure that I ruined my career and uh,” she struggles with the next part. “I didn’t take it easy like I was supposed to. I’ve still been doing some training and I haven’t been resting like I should. And I didn’t talk to you or Jain about it, like I should’ve. I just spiraled, really quickly.” “Darling, your career isn’t over.” “I know.” She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. Because she did know after talking with Andrea and talking to her doctors while Ollie did his debriefs and race prep.

“I know that now.” She corrects, wiping at her face. “Andrea talked to me, talked me out of my head.” “Good, because you’ve still got championships and medals to earn. You aren’t done.” “Yeah. I talked with my doctors too, I’m gonna talk to Jain tomorrow and I’m going to listen to them when they tell me what to do. Because I’m not ready for it to be over. But that does mean I’m looking at about four weeks of rest and recovery.” He lets out a whistle, thumb rubbing circles on her fabric cladded thigh. “That’s gonna drive you nuts.” She laughs, “it really will. And I was wondering if I could come with you to races.” His eyes widened, thumb stopping its motions. “What?” “Andrea told me that I should think about my five and ten year plans with this time I’ll have resting. And I already know that you're in those plans. And I know that I can’t do Judo for another ten years, not at this level at least. And if I get another knee injury to my left one, maybe I’ll get five years. And I know you want to be in F1 in ten years, still be in F1.” “I do.” The words are quiet, nearly drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding inside his chest. “I want to be part of this with you, Ollie. Every part. The bad races, the good ones, the ones that make you happy, sad, angry. I want them all and this could be the start of that.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow around, because this was like one of his dreams. Her wanting that with him, seeing that with him. Wanting F1 for him.

“I want that too.” He tells her. “I want you with me. But not at the cost of your career, never at the cost of it. I know we already talked about it when we got together about having to miss events and maybe championships because of careers, and that still stands. Even after you're done with this level of Judo. That will never change, even if you change careers.” His words are rushed as he makes sure she knows that he doesn’t expect her to completely just become a WAG when she’s finished. She stares at him, his expression earnest, and she doesn’t know what to say, how to say all of that back, so instead she says, “I love you.” His whole face brightens, “I love you too.”

—

“This fucking sucks.” She lets out a laugh, “Ollie, it’s okay.” “You are at the Olympics! The Olympics! And I can’t be there because of debriefing after quali. Fucking Ferrari.” He curses and she can just see him kicking at the ground. “There’s always the next Olympics in 2028. And you can’t miss debrief. Not for Spa.” A shiver runs up her spine at the thought of that track. “I know. It’s just I was supposed to be there, Prema approved it. Was even willing to push it completely to the next day, so I could be there for you. And now I can’t.” Her heart constricts a little, because she had been thrilled when Prema originally gave the go ahead for Ollie to potentially leave debrief early so he could see her at the Olympics. But F1 was a different beast and Ferrari was stricter. They wanted to see her win her second gold medal, wanted to support her, but they couldn’t let their surprise rookie driver miss the debrief to do it. “Fred already said that you guys would pause the debrief to watch it live. Really, you're just lucky that my group is going last, otherwise you’d be paying fines for missing press.” “Be worth it.” He mutters.

It’s silent between them, only the sound of slightly staticky breathing being heard.

“Why did Carlos have to get an infection?” She snorts, hand going up to cover her mouth, nearly dropping her phone from surprise. “What?” “Well, if Carlos had never gotten that stupid infection, he would have been back in the car by Australia or Japan and I’d be able to see you in person.” “Alternatively, you could have not performed so well and then when Canada came around they would have given him the seat, instead of keeping you in it.” He fake gasps. “Are you saying I should have performed badly?” She nods even though he can’t see it. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. But, no you just had to show and prove that you were worthy of the Ferrari seat. What is it now that you have? Four podiums, one sprint win, two sprint podiums, oh and of course your 166 points.” It’s quiet for a moment. “I love you so much.” She giggles. “I keep track.” “So, do I.” he retorts. “you‘ve got,” he starts, but she cuts him off. “No. We are not doing that. We both need to sleep. I’ve got the Olympics and you have quali.” He sighs, “yeah. I’ll be watching when I can. And I’m sorry I won’t see you win.” Blood rushes to her face at his confidence in her. “It’s fine, baby. And I’ll try to watch what I can of FP3 and qualifying. You’re gonna do amazing. I’ll see you Sunday, yeah?” “Of course. I love you.” “I love you too.”

—

“Y/N Y/L/N wins her second Olympic gold medal!” She stands proudly with it around her neck, her country flag wrapped around her as she cries tears of joy, a beaming smile on her face. She can see Jain clapping their hands together so hard it must hurt, and that just makes her smile more.

Her eyes look around the whole venue filled with people, she looks at her fellow gold medalists, the silver and bronze. It was unbelievable just like the first time.

She listens closely as the ceremony comes to a close, and as soon as she can, she darts over to Jain, wrapping them in a hug as she cries in their chest. “We did it!” She cheers. “You did it, kid! Two gold medals!” Jain laughs, squeezing her tight before letting her go and spinning her around. She makes a confused noise, nearly falling over, but she’s caught. Caught by an all too familiar pair of arms.

“Ollie!” She gasps. He beams at her. “You won! I got to see you win!” “But, I mean, I thought,” He laughs, “I lied. Ferrari agreed as long as I did my debrief on the flight here, I just have to pay a fine for missing press.” “Oh my god.” She stares at him for a few more seconds before kissing him, his arms wrapping around her waist in the process and lifting her off her feet.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You were amazing, just amazing.” He whispers, when they break apart for air. She smiles at him, tracing a line down his cheek. “I’m just happy you're here.”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #weird to use the f1 tags for ollie in 2024 but i am here for it

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pedropascallme · 3 months

Text

Let Your Mind Go Wild

Pairing: Professor!Damien x f!Reader

Summary: “‘Just…’ You brought your hand out from under his shirt, wrapping it loosely around his neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple, ‘You’re a lot…bigger than me…’ You squeezed his arm.”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) implied age gap (Damien is his actual current age, reader is 20-22), student/teacher relationship, mild sadism/masochism themes, dom/sub dynamics, brattamer!Damien, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), biting, spanking (not where you would think!), size kink, daddy kink, If I missed anything please let me know!

Damien prided himself on a lack of shame in regard to his relationship with you.

It wouldn’t shock him if people thought of it as taboo—maybe, to them, him being with someone younger, someone who was technically his subordinate, made him perverted; a deviant in the eyes of onlookers. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The only thing he cared about was you, and if you didn’t mind the unconventional nature of your relationship with him, why should he?

This is what he repeated to himself while he watched you get dressed in his clothes; boxers that fit you too loose around the hips and a button down that swallowed you whole.

The difference in size between the two of you wasn’t something he had put much thought into before. He had noticed the basics, the way your fingers were slenderer than his, your smaller shoes next to his larger ones when you kicked them off in the entry way of the house, and the way you curled into him so gracefully at night.

But with you in his clothes, fabric bunched around your waist, sleeves covering your hands despite repeated attempts to roll them up, he felt something weirdly primal—and it wouldn’t go away.

He didn’t want to draw attention to it, fearing that it would make you uncomfortable somehow. He knew he was being too in his head, but there was a vague worry that an admission of your smaller stature doing it for him would make you think he was using you for the fulfillment of some depraved desire.

You both knew that at this point your relationship was beyond these worries. There was an unconditional, unspoken respect between the two of you; an undying appreciation that made itself obvious in silent (and spoken) ways. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that his urges were misplaced somehow.

He tried to push the thought from his mind and focus on the grading he had been putting off rather than the desire to grab you by the hips and show you how your frame contrasted his.

~~~

“More papers?” You walked into his office, holding a bowl of cereal, the shirt you had stolen from his closet billowed around you.

“Mm,” Damien watched you take a spoonful of cereal to your mouth, a small bead of milk trickling from between your lips and over your chin; you wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt. “I just washed that, baby.” He sighed, amused.

“Oops,” You smiled, still chewing. “Are you going to be busy all day?”

“I hope not.” Damien swiveled his chair back toward his desk and looked at the pile of ungraded assignments stacked high in front of him.

“Well,” you held the bowl in one hand now, dropping your spoon into it and approaching the back of his chair, “I’ll be here." You squeezed at his bicep, kissing his cheek and taking in the rough feel of his stubble on your lips, before turning to leave. "Have fun, Professor.”

He swallowed. The ache he was experiencing to push you down onto any available surface was only heightened by the way you struggled to fit your hand around his arm.

You’d be the death of him.

He could tell you were bored; you began to mark every half hour on the dot by padding into his office—offering a chaste kiss on his neck, or squeezing his arm—and then running out before he had the chance to respond in any way to your antics.

He began to enjoy your game, before growing irritated by his inability to take an active role in it. You’d come in, wrap your arms around his abdomen from behind his chair, soft hums would travel to his ears as you trailed your lips over his skin, small hands running over his chest and arms, and then you’d be gone a moment later. What's more, he'd lose his place, too preoccupied with the feeling of your mouth and hands against him, and have to restart whatever assignment he'd been grading.

“You’re being a brat.” He called to you down the hallway, and the only response you offered was a lighthearted giggle.

He wanted to fuck you stupid, but he knew he should prioritize his occupational responsibilities—however dull they may be, and however tempting you were.

He knew you knew that, too, and you were using his rationality to your advantage in order to act out.

When he reached the last page of the last paper, marked up with pen and read over so many times the words had started blurring together, Damien let out a deep sigh of relief.

The clock read 4:26. He leaned back in his chair, waiting out the next four minutes so that he could finally participate in the game you’d roped him into.

When he heard you coming down the hall, he picked up a stray paper, pretending to be deeply immersed in the reading. You walked up behind him, giggling quietly to yourself, certain you’d continue to get away with pestering him; you reached out once more to squeeze at him, and he swiveled in his chair, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him in a messy show of affection. You weren’t properly on his lap, and his arms were wrapped around you lazily, but he couldn’t help but smile at the way you leaned into him when you settled with your hands firm on his shoulders, laughing up at him.

“You having fun?” He watched one of your hands sweep over his chest, the warmth of your palm permeating the thin material of the shirt he had on.

“Maybe.” You smiled, unwilling to concede. “Professor?” You undid the top button of his shirt, taking your time before pulling his collar open gently. “Did you ever notice…” You continued to undo a few more buttons, hand reaching under the newly unfastened opening of his shirt to enjoy skin-to-skin contact. Your other hand came to rest on his arm.

“Notice what?” He grabbed your chin gently between his fingers, forcing eye contact.

“Just…” You brought your hand out from under his shirt, wrapping it loosely around his neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple, “You’re a lot…bigger than me…” You squeezed his arm.

Damien clenched his jaw, grateful that you were practically begging for him to act on the thoughts he’d been trying to push down all day; the burning desire to dominate you, show you how much bigger he was than you—and to put you in your place for sidetracking him from his work.

He couldn’t decide which he was more excited about.

“Have you noticed that you’re always a brat when I’m grading?” He hoisted you up, throwing you over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around your thighs, his opposite hand coming up to support your legs while you playfully kicked and squirmed above him. “Because I certainly have.”

“Hey!” You feigned outrage. The blood rushing to your head made you even giddier than you had been. He dropped you down onto the bed and you scrambled to sit up, shoving his chest.

You were already in trouble, what was a little more rebellion?

Damien grabbed your wrists and all but threw you onto your back, crawling over you and kissing down your throat.

“All fucking day,” He murmured against you, “All fucking day, baby—why are you so needy, hm? Cause you’re not getting all of my attention? Cause daddy’s busy with work and can’t give you what you want?” He didn’t know where the new title had come from, pulled from the back of his mind in the heat of the moment, but he was fine now with throwing caution to the wind, seeing as you’d already matched one of his impulses.

You didn’t confirm or deny his taunts, offering a huffed moan in place of any real response. You were distracted, intrigued by the title he had given himself, hips wiggling against him. “You said you wouldn’t be busy all day.” You continued to defy him.

“Is that why you were trying to distract me?” He sucked a deep purple mark on your collar bone, “Just wanted to get fucked? Jealous that my focus wasn't on you?" He bit the mark he had made. "Wanted to show me how you could take this big cock in that sweet little pussy?”

“Yeah—” You gasped at the way his teeth skimmed over your skin, “Yes, sir—yes, daddy.”

“You need to learn some fucking patience,” he groaned, rubbing against your thigh to find some relief. “In my clothes, walking around like you own the place.” His voice got lower, spurred on by your whines. “You look so beautiful like this." He brought his attention to the shirt you wore; sitting up on his knees to straddle your thighs, he tore the few buttons you had bothered to fasten apart.

“Damien!” You smiled, shocked that he would ruin his own clothes. “Thought you just washed this?” You lifted your head, watching his hands to the best of your ability, and he pulled the fabric off your shoulders hastily.

“I’ll get a new one.” He decided, pulling you up towards him to better enable his removal of the shirt from your body. “Little girl in my fucking clothes—you know what you’ve been doing to me all day?” He pushed you back down, dipping his head down to suck on your breasts, interchanging which side he licked over and which side he squeezed. "Distracting me—clothes don't even fit you." His mutterings were general, not directed towards you, but you picked up on them nonetheless.

“You like that I’m sm—aller than you, daddy?” Your breath caught in your throat when his teeth grazed your nipple. You pulled on his hair, earning a growl from him. “Like seeing your little girl in your clothes?”

Damien brought his face up to smother you in a heated kiss; it was sloppy and rash, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the logistics, too immersed in feeling him against you.

“Coming into my office,” he breathed against you, “in this fucking outfit, acting like a brat, trying to get a rise out of me—it worked.” He continued to attack your lips; both of you rutted against each other desperately, neither of you daring to break away from the other to properly undress and do anything about it. “Tell me you need me.”

“Need you—please, need you now, needed you all day.” You moaned when he bit down hard on your neck, leaving a bright red mark behind.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, hips stilling, “you can do better than that.”

“Please—fuck, please, daddy, I’ll do anything, need you to fuck me.” You tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck, twisting short strands in your fingers.

“Yeah?” He moaned, your use of the new title not going unnoticed. “Need daddy’s cock?”

You whined, scraping your nails up his back while you nodded.

“Use your fucking words.”

“Need daddy’s cock,” you whimpered the words back to him, lids feeling heavy over your eyes when you dragged your still-clothed cunt just right against his thigh positioned above you. “Please.”

He stood up wordlessly, removing his shirt; you couldn’t hide the way your eyes raked over his arms, the way the fabric clung to him while he stripped himself bare, soft muscle pulling taught under his skin when he leaned down to undo his fly and rid himself of his jeans.

Christ, had his hands always been that big?

Damien pulled you by your ankles towards the edge of the bed, and you went limp under his touch, making yourself malleable and allowing him to remove the pair of boxers you still had on. He positioned you with your legs spread, hooking one knee over his shoulder and letting the other one hang from the mattress.

“Pretty little pussy.” He brought his hand down onto your cunt, spanking your clit hard.

You jumped at the contact, yelping a moan, and he did it again just to watch you squirm. He put his fingers in his mouth, releasing them after a moment and trailing them from the bottom of your entrance up to your clit.

“Gonna let daddy be in control now, right?” He circled his fingers over your clit, wet with his spit and the slick he'd gathered from his brief sweep up your pussy, “Since you’ve been doing whatever you want all day—my turn, right?”

You nodded, and he spanked your cunt again, coaxing a verbal answer from you. “Yes, sir—daddy’s in charge.”

“Cause this is my pussy to play with…” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement that cemented his authority and the way he planned to worship you, but you answered enthusiastically anyway.

“Yes—belongs to daddy.” You grasped at his wrist, fingers still teasing your clit.

“Good girl.” He moved his hand, effectively blocking your attempts to grab onto him, and pushed one finger into your hole; you arched your back, giving him the opportunity to push into you deeper. “God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, watching his finger pump in and out of you slowly, twisting his wrist and allowing himself to feel all of you around him. “Tight little pussy, squeezing one of my fingers—how are you gonna take my cock, baby? How’s it gonna fit?”

“Make it—make it fit,” you begged, “Make it fit, daddy.”

Damien growled, turning to the leg you had propped up on his shoulder and biting the inside of your thigh harshly before peppering kisses over the mark he'd left behind. “You want me to force my cock into you, baby?” He felt you shudder around him, walls clenching his finger. He added another. “Get you nice and ready for me so I can ruin this little pussy?”

“Please—fuck, Damien, please.”

He pulled his fingers from your dripping hole, licking them off. “Try again.”

“Daddy! Please, daddy, force it. Make me take it.” You bounced your hips gently on the mattress, and he relented, pushing his fingers back into you and curling them upwards to pet the spongy spot inside of you. You cried out for him, and he added another finger.

“That’s three, princess. You feel good?” He watched in awe as your cunt stretched around the intrusion, slick coating his fingers and dripping down the curve of your ass.

“Feels so good.” You breathed.

“Look at that little pussy taking it so good.” He felt like he could drool over the sight in front of him.

“Want your—cock. Please.” You struggled to focus on your breathing, entranced by the way his thick fingers stretched you.

“Thought we said it was my turn to be in charge,” he smiled, devious and unrelenting as he drove his fingers into you. “Cum for me like this, baby. Show me this little pussy can take what I give it.”

He leaned forward, taking your clit in his mouth and sucking; his tongue flicked over you, fingers buried knuckle deep in your cunt, and you clapped your hand over your mouth to keep your screams muffled.

You came like that, dampening your cries for him with your palm and bucking your hips against his mouth. Even with your eyes screwed shut, blinded by pleasure, you could tell he was smiling, proud of himself and the ways in which he could make you come undone.

He removed his fingers from you, and you clenched around the emptiness, whining at the loss of him inside of you. He frowned at you, mockingly.

“What’s wrong?” He stood, leaning over you, “You feel empty?”

“Yes.” You whined, squeezing your thighs together.

“Don’t worry—gonna give you what you need.” He dropped a hand down over your cunt, and you flinched at the attention he gave your sensitive clit, moving his hand back and forth with reckless abandon. You moaned, head falling back further against the bed. “Look at me.” He coaxed your gaze up, and you watched him take his cock in his hand, rubbing it through your folds and then leaning forward, resting it on your stomach. “See that?” He questioned, and you nodded, “See how deep I’m gonna fuck you?”

You let out a quiet moan, staring down at the length of his cock and the space it took up on your body.

“My little girl, I’ll make it fit so nice, baby, I promise. What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.” You looked up at him, his lust-blown eyes reflecting your own.

“That’s right.” He pulled his hips back and lined himself up with your entrance. “You want all of it?”

“Please.”

He smirked, smug and eager. Upon hearing your words he immediately pushed his hips forward, spearing you on his cock and watching the way your lower stomach bulged full of him.

You screamed, not even bothering to hide it behind your hand this time, back arching again in satisfaction at being filled to the brim by him. He took one of your hands in his and placed it on your stomach.

“So full, baby.” He looked feral, eyes dark, lips curling up at the sides, top teeth barely peeking through them, his hair falling in messy bangs over his face.

He’d never looked better.

“So fucking big, daddy—so deep.” You whined, pressing on your stomach to feel the swell of him.

“You gonna let daddy fuck this little pussy open?” He growled, watching your hand sweep over your stomach, “Gonna let me wreck you?”

“Yes,” you let out a stuttered breath when he dragged his hips back; maybe it was the conversation, the dirty talk getting to your head, but you could’ve sworn he felt bigger now than he had previously. “Yes, daddy.”

When he pushed back in, you felt yourself jolt up the bed slightly; he was rough, frustrated with your disruptions all day, but more so lost to his own impulses, obsessed with how small you looked spread out on the bed for him, how your legs trembled, wrapped slack around his hips and pulling him in deeper with every thrust.

Any sense of restraint was lost when you looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted and swollen from his kisses. “Want you to cum right there, daddy—deep like that.”

Damien made a sound he had never heard himself make before, lifting your hips and ramming into you with fervor. You cried out for him, and he bent down, caging you between his arms; just another way for him to stress how much bigger he was than you. His lips brushed against your chest, and he could feel the sweat on your skin. He poked his tongue out to lick a stripe between your breasts, savoring it while he continued to use you passionately. “You want me to cum in you, princess?” He trailed open-mouthed kisses on your breasts, leaving marks in his wake, “Want me to fill you up so you can feel me all night?”

You recited your response, continually shouting enthusiastic "yes"s, certain you could feel his cock in your ribs. He hit the tender spot inside you repeatedly, drawing mangled cries.

“Fuck, daddy, it hurts!” You whined, and Damien paused his movements, pulling out slightly and repositioning himself above you to meet your gaze.

“Good hurt or bad hurt?” He dropped the dominant front, concerned that he had gone too far. His fingers combed through your hair.

“Good,” you whispered, “So good. So deep—so big it hurts.” Your cheeks were flushed, “Don’t stop, daddy, please.”

Damien groaned, pushing his cock back into you, fully sheathed in your cunt and delighting in the way you squeezed him.

“You like when it hurts?” He grunted out between harsh thrusts, straightening up to hold your hips steady once again, “Like having this big cock stretch you out so good that it hurts, baby?”

“Fuck,” you cried, grabbing at his forearm and squeezing like you'd been doing all day, unable to get enough of him, “Yes! Fucking love it!”

“That’s right,” he brought his fingers to your cunt, spreading your folds to get a proper look at how you swallowed him. “Wish you could see how pretty you look, baby—little pussy so full of me.”

You whined, keening at his words, pulling on his arm until he yielded, letting you bring his hand to your face. You licked at his fingers, slipping them beyond your lips and sucking hard to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“God, yes,” he moaned, “Good girl.”

You moaned against his fingers, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. You felt so full—so complete.

“Can I have my fingers back, princess?” His voice was sultry. You hummed, vibrations traveling through his hand. You kept sucking, unwilling to release them.

Maybe you were still set on acting like a brat.

“No?” He squeezed your hip with his free hand. “You don’t want me to touch you, baby? Don’t wanna cum on my cock?” He stilled his hips, and you squirmed under him, still not backing down. He spanked your cunt with his free hand, and you yelped, giving him the opportunity to take his fingers back from you. A strand of saliva maintained your mouth's connection to his hand. “That’s what I thought.”

He used his spit drenched fingers to knead your clit, still fucking you as deep as he could manage. “You still want me to cum nice and deep in this little pussy?” He asked, and you nodded. “Use your words—c’mon, use your manners.”

“Yes, ple—ase, daddy.”

“You think you deserve it? Acting out all morning—still not listening to what I tell you. You still think you deserve to get filled up?” His fingers moved slow over your clit, ghosting over you and providing friction without the necessary pressure he knew you required. You tried to buck your hips up to get him closer to you, but to no avail.

“I’ll be so good from now on,” You promised, “Won’t ever bother you again, sir.”

Damien bit his bottom lip, growling as he pressed the pad of his finger to your clit, offering more of what you needed while he thrust deep.

“Want you to cum first, baby,” he knit his brow in focus, “You want my cum, need to feel you first, alright?”

You nodded to the best of your ability, concentrated solely on the way he fucked you. One of your hands once again flying to grasp at his arm, the other fisting the sheets underneath you. You threw your head back, eyes closed and mouth open.

“Good girl, cum for me—squeeze me nice and tight.” He was driving into you wildly; deep, fast thrusts that knocked the wind from your lungs, fingers still working your clit. He felt you flutter around him. “Look at me when you cum, princess.” You looked up, eyes meeting his.

You came, crying his name, legs trembling, heat engulfing your stomach before jolts of electricity spread over your muscles. You kept your hand on his arm, squeezing intermittently between gasps and moans.

He kept fucking you, spurred on by your sounds and the feeling of your walls tightening around him. “Fuck,” he grit his teeth, eyes closing and throwing his head back. “God, fuck, that’s my good girl—fuck, I’m gonna cum—gonna cum in this little pussy, just like this, baby.” His thrusts faltered, and he dealt one last deep shove of his hips, cock pressed against your cervix when he came in you, moaning.

He watched you bite your lip, eyes glossed over and hazy with delight as you felt the warm welling of his cum inside of you.

Damien pulled out of you slowly, and you both shuddered; you whined at the sudden loss of contact, unfilled and feeling bare. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.” He lay down next to you, pulling you into his chest and lying quietly with you while you both tried your best to catch your breath.

“Messy.” You muttered after a few minutes of quiet cuddling, finding comfort in the crook of his neck. His heartbeat thrummed in your ear. “Sore.”

“I know,” he ran a hand over your hair, smoothing the frizz he had caused by fucking you on your back. “Bath?”

“Yeah, in a second.” You moved to look up at him, dopey smile on your face. “Should I still call you Professor at school?”

“Why—I mean, in class, yeah, but y—" He looked lost, "...why do you ask?”

“You just seem to prefer daddy lately.” You watched his face turn from curious to a combination of shy and entertained.

“Christ.” He grinned, moving his hand down your back, tracing shapes over your skin.

You sighed at the feeling, falling silent again for a moment. Then: “Didn’t know you were so into size differences.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s just general size differences that do it for me…”

“So not every small thing is going to make you horny?” You pressed your cheek to his chest, “Like, when we go grocery shopping, should I be worried about leaving you in the pasta aisle next to those boxes of tiny star-shaped pasta?”

“Yeah, but not because they’ll turn me on—I used to date tiny star-shaped pasta, and there’s no love lost between us…” He managed to deadpan the delivery before making himself laugh, spirits further heightened by the amused smile you shot up at him before you turned to trail kisses over his shoulder.

“No, I...I don’t know if it’s just the fact that you’re smaller than me.” Damien thought out loud, “I think it’s just the fact that it’s you.”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him, catching his gaze and basking in the warmth of his eyes.

“Yeah.” He concluded, kissing you on the forehead, and your smile widened.

There it was again, the unspoken respect; the quiet tenderness and devotion that you two shared.

“I think I’m ready for that bath now.” You reminded him, arms wrapping around his neck. “But only if you come with me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

#damien haas #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas smut #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh smut #smosh games #smosh pit #smoshblr

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yunhoszn · 2 months

Note

alright babes you already know it's bro but sleep deprived

anyway we were talkin abt this in the dms but i think its time to share w the class

who in atz are briefs guys and who are boxers guys?

also i love you •3•

ateez & boxers v. briefs

erm mentions of underwear?,,,, extremely suggestive….. half of this makes no sense im high as shit typing this and my logic probably does not logic like i thought it did…

OKAY ok here we go

⟢ hongjoong likely wears boxers.. i feel like if he did one of those calvin klein ads, he’d wear the briefs for the bit but that’s about it. he seems like the type who likes the free-ness of them if that makes sense 😭

⟢ seonghwa. ok. i feel like he varies. i could def see him in boxers like… hovering over you, knees caging you in, his hair long enough that it wraps and curls around the base of his neck— i’m gonna stop talking about this— but i could also see him in that same calvin klein ad setting and i feel like he would look really good in some grey briefs…

⟢ yunho is fs a boxers guy. tbh i feel like most tall men are just cause they’re comfortable and most tall men are carrying very well endowed,,,, packages,,,, so yeah i think he would wear boxers, but not too loose. like they’re actually on the snugger side

⟢ yeosang is a briefs guy. u cannot convince me otherwise. (i’m imagining the jeremy allen white calvin klein ad) that’s how i imagine yeosang in briefs. like it just makes so much sense to me.

⟢ san…. i told u my thoughts on san. but i’m sharing with the class now <3 i think if this were inception era san, the answer would be boxers no questions asked. but current san, extremely built, shaped like a dorito san, the answer is obviously briefs. they hug his thighs and his ass just right… muscular men in briefs is a weakness…. a plague…

⟢ mingi is another obvious briefs choice. slightly dorito shaped, mingi is the exception to my ‘tall men wear boxers’ disclaimer from before. U cannot look at him and tell me he does Not wear briefs. then ur lying straight to my face. tell me u do not see this man being the ateez man who would Actually do the calvin klein ad.

⟢ wooyoung, i had to toss around with. but ultimately i think he’s a boxers guy. my conclusion is more of a technical analysis bc i was thinking about his style and the kind of clothes he wears, which are usually on the baggier side, so i’d think he prefers comfortability. and tbh boxers fit that whole vibe.

⟢ jongho is also a boxers guy no doubt. his wasn’t even a meticulous analysis or anything. i thought about it for one second and immediately came to the idea; ‘jongho wears boxers’. solely based on vibes. like look at him. once u see the vision, u just do and there’s no turning back. boxers guy.

(also hi i love YOU MORE!!!!! :3 hehe i got the last word so i win in terms of size of love)

#💌 — asks #🍽️ — let me cook #🤍 — moots #bro😎#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez suggestive #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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homiesexual-or-homosexual · 4 days

Text

Inappropriate Touches

Pairing: Steddie x reader

Warnings: King! Steve Harrington, Personal Knight! Eddie Munson, light to heavy petting, unprotected p in v, bj's, exhibitionism, nipple sucking, fondling, cunnilingus, male masturbation, they get caught (technically), bodily fluid eating, let me know if I missed anything

———

You’d been married to King Steve Harrington for about six months now. It’d been sort of an arranged marriage so your family could become allies with the Harrington royal family.

King Harrington’s parents were still around, but had stepped down to allow their son to take over so they could go off and “see the world”, whatever that meant.

It’d taken awhile for you to get warmed up to the newly made king, and his personal knight who seemed to follow the king around like he was a second shadow.

Both men were intimidating. At least six foot with broad shoulders. King Harrington was more intimidating when he was dressed in all his king attire, fancy dress clothes and shoes with a flowy cape that hung from his shoulders, and often accompanied with a simple crown on his head. And the king’s personal knight, Eddie Munson. He was often dressed in full body armor, a sword on his hip, and a white cape down his back that showed his authority.

Both men seemed to take advantage of your timidness when dressed up, which was often for Knight Munson. They often backed you into a corner and or sandwiched you between them and showered you with praise while their hands roamed.

Overtime, these praises and simply touches developed into more. It was a slow process that you barely took notice of until you were on your hands and knees in your shared bed in King Harrington’s quarters, your eyes blurry with tears as Eddie shoved his cock down your throat and Steve used you from behind.

And as you got more comfortable with these inappropriate touches, the more often they came, especially outside the bedroom.

You’d been called to something important this early morning, so early that the sun hadn’t even risen yet. It was so important that you don’t really remember what it was about. And you were so tired, but you refused to go to bed cause you knew that if you undressed you’d just be redressed the next time someone needed you. So you were in the castle’s library, huddled over in a empty corner as you read a book on a rather comfy couch.

The doors to the library squeaked open and thud shut. You paid it no mind until two sets of footsteps came your way. Before you could see who it was, a curtain of dark, curly hair blocked your view.

You leaned your head back to see Eddie, dressed casually but still with his sword around his waist.

“Whatcha reading?” He asks, a smile on his face.

“Something about dragons,” You answered.

“One where the princess is captured and a knight in shining armor rescues her?”

“Sure,” You tell him, barely even remembering what the book was about cause you were so tired.

Eddie hums, standing to his full height and resting his large hands on your shoulders.

“Where were you this morning?” A voice asks in front of you.

You look up and see Steve standing in front of you wearing a loose, white shirt with some soft looking pants.

“I was called to something this morning,” You answer him.

“Before the sun rose?”

You nod.

Steve hummed, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’ll have to talk to whomever needed you so badly this morning that you were woken up before the sun.”

“Something about trade routes,” You tell him.

“Well they should be able to wait until sunrise for that, or until I get up,” The king mumbles, obviously not too happy about his wife being woken up before him.

“Well, we found you and that’s all that matters,” Eddie reassures Steve, leaning down to kiss along your exposed neck, wrapping his arms around your front to grope at your chest.

You watch as Steve crouches to his knees, sliding his hands under your dress to squeeze at your thighs.

“Oh, this is what you wanted?” You poke at the two men, making eye contact with Steve.

“Of course,” Steve purrs, hands pushing up and up. “We missed you this morning.”

You only hum in response as Eddie starts popping open the buttons on the front of your dress, stopping just below your sternum, he unties the string of the front of your under shirt as well, exposing you. The curly haired man pulls the collar of both shirts so your shoulders are exposed and he starts leaving open mouth kisses along the skin, occasionally stopping to nip and suck at the skin, groping your expose chest as he does.

Steve leans forward and takes your left nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue and sucking on it. He slowly inches his hands around your waist and gently pulls your underwear down your legs. You watch as he stuffs them in his back pocket, a sliver of the lace sticking out. The man meets your eyes, mischief dancing in his eyes before he puts his full attention back on your breast.

Steve switches over to your nipple, leaving your left one wet and exposed to the cool air.

You’re fighting hard to stay quiet, lips pressed together and hand gripping the nape of Steve’s hair. You jump when you feel two fingers venture between your lower lips, feeling the slick that’s been threatening to spill out onto the fabric of the couch. A whimper slips past your lips when Steve’s fingers easily find your clit, gently pressing against the button.

Before you can get too lost in the pleasure, both men pull away from your body.

Eddie moved to stand at the arm of the couch, blocking the view from any prying eyes of the library, and he pats the arm.

You place a bookmark in your book that you’d forgotten about and set it on the nearby end table, awaiting instruction.

“Come here,” The knight instructs. “Hands and knees, sweetheart.”

You do as told, face heating up when you realize you’re face to face with Eddie’s crotch. You glance up at him and await his next movements.

Your attention is drawn backwards when you feel your dress move. You see Steve leaning down to lay on the couch under you, scooching upwards to disappear under your dress. Before his upper body fully disappears under your dress, you watch his hands untie the knot at the front of his trousers and pull them down just enough for him to pull out his erect cock. Steve’s hands disappear down your dress once more, moving to grip your thighs and pull you down.

“Sit,” You hear a muffled order.

You do as told, vulva meeting Steve’s awaiting tongue. Your breathing stutters and you almost slip into that certain headspace but fingers taps your cheek.

Your met with another erect cock, the head tainted a deep read.

“Open,” Eddie tells.

You do, watching Eddie’s cock disappear into your mouth. He stills when a comfortable length is in your mouth.

“Go on,” Eddie nods, encouraging you to move on your own.

You start, bopping your head up and down his length. Every movements back up brings your hips down onto Steve’s awaiting mouth. In which, spurred on by your movements, he starts his ministrations and licks up and down your vulva, dipping in between the folds and flicking against and around your clit.

You feel fingers join his tongue momentarily before a hand disappear from your legs and you being to hear a wet “schlick”, you assume Steve is jerking his exposed cock, simply turned on by the process of eating you out.

You turn your attention back to Eddie, sucking in every time you pull on his cock, earning moans from him and a hand on the top of your head. You feel saliva collect in your mouth and slowly slip from your slips, soaking into the plush cushion below.

You feel Eddie start to move with you and you adjust so your forearms rest of the arm of the couch and you arms can grip at Eddie’s trousers.

The longer you three go on, the louder you three seem to get.

Steve’s moans vibrate against you, making you jerk and grind against him with every noise. With the building pleasure in your abdomen, you can’t help but let moans spill past your vocal chords, the pleasure urging you on for Eddie. And with the harder sucking and faster bopping of your head from you, Eddie can’t help but groan and moan above you, eventually gripping your head with both hands.

The more the knight’s pleasure builds, the more prominent his thrusts into your mouth are. It ends up at the point where Eddie holds your head in place with both of his hands so he can fuck your throat at his own pace.

You sputter and gag, tears blurring your vision and saliva coating his cock and puddling onto the cushion below you. You’re gripping Eddie’s trousers and grinding down onto Steve’s mouth. The moans from both men and the sound of Steve jerking himself off spur you on, and you barely sense the knot in your lower abdomen until it snaps and white hot explodes from between your thighs.

Your moans build in pitch and volume as you cum, thighs shaking and your gripping at Eddie’s thighs, pulling at his pants.

Steve eats you out with vigor and he follows you soon after, the “schlick” growing in volume and speed, breathy moans vibrating against your center. His free hands grips your thigh. You can feel his trimmed fingernails digging into your skin.

As if on cue, Eddie follows both you and Steve in finishing. His thrusts are sloppy and hurried as he fucks in cum down your throat. His moans are more vulgar, groaning and cussing to himself as he rides out his high.

Slowly, even as Eddie stills rides out his high, Steve removes himself from under you. Fixing your dress so it’s not all crumpled up at the back of your knees.

Eddie slowly calms down, pulling himself from your mouth. He gives you a moment to swallow any remains cum and saliva before tapping your lips with the head of his cock. You open and watch as he squeezes the remaining cum from his cock.

As you close your mouth and swallow, Eddie pats your cheek with his fingers and you take that as a sign to settle down, still aware of Steve not fully removed from under you.

You watch as Eddie takes a handkerchief from a back pocket of his and as he wipes off his cock. You keep watching when he tucks his half-hard cock back into his underwear, and when he adjusts and ties his trousers back into place.

Eddie leans down to clean up your face, using a clean area of his handkerchief to clean up your face.

It’s when the handkerchief is back in the knight’s pocket and when he’s in the middle of a deep sigh does a someone clear their throat from around a bookcase.

Both of you jump and whip your heads around to the person.

It’s castle staff, looking nervous and awkward and he just caught you two in a rather intimate moment. He clears his throat again before speaking.

“Have.. uhh… either of you seen the king?” He asks timidly.

Said king removes himself fully from underneath you, his face is flushed and his forehead and cheeks are sweaty. He doesn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed as he sits up and turns to face the staff member.

“Yes?” He asks.

You notice he’s tying his trousers back into place. You had no knowledge of him cleaning himself up or tucking himself away.

The staff flushes and stutters, “Your parents are here, my king. They wish to see you.”

“Very well,” Steve sighs.

He moves to pull you to him so you sit back on your legs. He kisses you on the lips for a few seconds and hums at the taste before getting up, wiping his pants of imaginary dust. Steve moves around the couch to fall in beside the servant as he leads the king away from your corner of the library.

Before following, Eddie pats your cheek and gives you a wink before trotting after the king, curls bouncing on his shoulders.

You watch for a few moments before settling back into the couch. You take a few moments before realization settles in your chest and heats up your face.

You’d just been caught by a servant with both the king and his personal knight.

You heat up some more and bury your face in your, previously forgotten, book as you try to stave down the embarrassment.

#aj posts #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #king! steve harrington #knight! eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #steve harrington imagines

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spiderlandry · 11 months

Note

Can I request a Yellowjackets Shauna Shipman [ 1996] x Fem!Reader. So Shauna is really in love with the reader (the reader is on the soccer team) and has been for years (years as in since freshman year) they get together at the party before they leave and crash together?

I'm sorry if this is confusing. If you do make this thank you and I appreciate you.

Be safe and have a wonderful day

Dm me if you need more context?

be safe and have a wonderful day as well 😇 thank u for this request its v cute! no pronouns are used for reader but it’s implied afab or fem presenting reader because they’re on the soccer team <3

100 follower event

warnings: technically underage drinking (18), kissing, tiny bit of angst but it’s mostly fluff i think

kiss — shauna shipman

Friends. That’s what you and Shauna promised each other in Ms. Thompson’s math class, second week of freshman year. You were one of the first friends she’d ever truly made in high school that wasn’t through Jackie.

Although Jackie was her best friend, you were different. Much different.

She didn’t know it until you both ended up ditching the team after a tournament to get ice cream. She was hit with the realization that she wants to hold your hand for the rest of your lives, and with this, her entire world practically came crashing down. Her love had grown so strong—she couldn’t pinpoint when it started.

She’d been holding it in for a long time since then.

The air is buzzing the night of the party. It’s a celebration for the team, a way to let loose before nationals, but everybody is on edge because of the injury that Allie sustained. But you’re still a whirlwind of energy amongst all the stress, even if you’re not drunk like the others. You manage to put a smile on everyone’s face despite it all, one of the things that made her fall in love with you.

Shauna toys with the material of her dress. The one she wore just for you, the one that Jackie asked: “who are you wearing that for?” To which she stayed silent, a whisper of your name in her mind but unable to say it aloud in fear that if she does, it will all go wrong.

Yet, she’s warmed by the jacket you’d given at the beginning of the night, and she can’t help but fantasize a future where she’s allowed to love you.

The alcohol makes its way through her system as the sky gets darker and the party gets wilder.

She doesn’t know you’ve been watching her from afar since it started. Why are you avoiding me? You stop yourself from asking that, in fear that she’ll say it’s because she noticed the way you watch her with eyes that one of your friends described as lovesick.

You crush the red solo cup in your hand, throwing it in a bin before finally getting the courage to pull Shauna away from Jackie and some boys, a stone of jealousy forming at the pit of your stomach.

Shauna feels a familiar tug on her sleeve. It’s always the way you get her attention, and she has memorized the force of your pull—light as a feather, but she gravitates toward you like a moon in orbit—attached but at a distance.

Your grins mirror each other as you hover on the outskirts of the party, her leaning against a tree and you standing inches away, facing her. The warmth between you isn’t lost on her, actually, it’s all she can think about.

“Are you drunk?” She whispers with a playfulness you’ve always adored.

“No,” you shake your head, and you end up giggling.

You stumble a little bit, trying to steady yourself. She holds out an arm to hold your waist and you hope to god she keeps it there forever.

“Sure, sure.”

“You know I don’t drink, Shipman.” And you respond to her touch by putting a hand on her shoulder, and you feel her lean into your touch. “Are you drunk?” You whisper ever so gently.

Her senses are overwhelmed by you and you alone. The way you warm beneath her hand, the scent of your shampoo, your figure leaning slightly into her.

And she does the one thing that she’s held back for as long as she can remember.

A kiss.

One that you reciprocate out of instinct, hand moving to her neck, sweeping her hair out of the way.

She almost smiles until you pull back abruptly, the soft kiss still lingering on her lips as she tries to chase yours but you hold her back.

“Wait, Shauna—“ Your brows furrow, and she realizes that she just made a mistake. “Wait.” You can feel her itching to leave, but you’re stubborn and you won’t let her go. (Her world is crashing a second time as you speak.)

She notices your shallow breathing before you begin again.

“You’re—“ you seem dazed, shocked. “You’re drunk. Aren’t you?”

Your face is inches away from hers and you want to go back but it would feel wrong knowing her inebriated state.

“I had one beer. You?”

“Me too.”

“Then why couldn’t you stand?”

You come closer, stopping only an inch away and she can feel your breath on her lips again.

“Would it be too cheesy if I said that’s what you just do to me?” You laugh lightly.

She can’t help but grin wide. “Yes,” She puts both arms around your waist, hugging you closer. She doesn’t care who sees. “But you do that to me, too. I’m just better at hiding it.”

It’s you who kisses her this time.

You both decide to keep the relationship a secret, at least for a little while. The plane is noisy with the team unable to sit still because of excitement, but Shauna is fidgeting in the seat next to you and you know why.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing her hand and intertwining yours with it. “We’ll be okay, alright?”

She nods, gulping. She’s too distracted to see you looking around to see if anyone’s watching, and you catch her off guard with a peck on her lips.

Her eyes widen, “Somebody could have seen that!” She whispers, but her eyes crinkle as she flashes you a juvenile grin.

Her world crashes a third time, hours later when the plane does. But at least you’re there to hold her hand.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman fluff #shauna sadecki #sophie nelisse

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corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months

Text

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #1.5

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #1.5: because you look so fine

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.5k

Summary: set in the middle of deleted scene #1 (after Joel & Ellie come home but before you move in with them). Joel's acting weird lately.

Warnings: established relationship, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2 but no one goes golfing, poor communication, p in v, two idiots at the end of the world, fluff, tooth-rotting over the top fluff in the only way two assholes know how, oral (m&f receiving), brief Tommy & Maria cameos, a few butt slaps, good ole southern hospitality, when i started this i meant for joel to play guitar but sadly he does not.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel’s been a little weird lately. In a very Joel way.

Or maybe not. You’re not really sure what to think of it.

Ever since that first day when he walked you home from dinner, and you didn’t invite him in, he’s been… awkward.

Or maybe he hasn’t. You don’t really know Joel. It’s a startling realization you had after he left that night.

You lived with him for six months and traveled the country with him, but neither of those were very good representations of him. When you shared the apartment, you only saw him to fuck. You didn’t hang out shooting the shit or have riveting conversations about current events over breakfast.

When you were out of the QZ with him and Tess, there was no talking. Not a single unnecessary word. He and Tess communicated silently. You were on a need-to-know basis and never had a need-to-know.

And those months traveling with Ellie? Well, you’d learned a little more about him, but also, he was under such intense stress that you’re not sure how much was Joel and how much was the situation.

He’s been a lot nicer since he got back to Jackson. Well. Maybe nicer isn’t the right word.

He’s been more talkative and smiled more. Most of the time, when he opens his mouth, though, it’s to be a sarcastic ass.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

And, okay, maybe you do know him.

You decide maybe you’re the one being weird, so you let it go until the weirdness intensifies one Friday night.

Tommy had you both cornered at the mess on Thursday. “So y’all are coming to the Bison tomorrow, right? Ernie came back with a couple of guitars to try to round out the act.”

Joel perks up at this, and you watch him carefully. He’s never seemed interested in whatever goes on at the pub. “They work?”

“They need some love,” Tommy says. “Reckon you might be able to fix ‘em up?”

“Shit,” Joel says, the curse drawn out and low as he thinks. “I might. He gonna let me come ‘n take a look at ‘em?”

“You could probably swing by tonight; see if any of ‘em can be saved.”

Joel eyes your empty plate. “C’mon, I’ll walk ya home first.”

“The Bison is closer than my house,” you say, utterly perplexed by the way this conversation has gone. “I can walk myself.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll come back after.”

You think it’s kind of silly but he’s insisted on walking you home every day. Every day that you don’t end up in his bed, anyway.

Every time, he holds your hand. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you let the warm summer silence lead you.

He always kisses you goodnight. Never as chaste as the first time, but never letting it get out of hand, either. He doesn’t ask to come in. He doesn’t try to start anything.

He’s respecting your boundaries, you think, and it’s kind of weird. But good weird.

Tonight, he lingers with his arms draped loose around your hips, holding you close there but letting you lean your upper body back against the siding. He’s got a look on his face that you can’t identify.

After a moment, he narrows his eyes and jostles you a little with one arm. “Gonna come with me to the Bison tomorrow?”

“Since when do you go to Friday Night Live?” you tease.

He scowls. “Since tomorrow.”

“You can’t say since tomorrow; that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, I just said it, didn’t I?” His face twists into something you do recognize.

“Hey,” you pout. “Why’re you mad?”

“M’not mad. Will you stop teasin’ me and answer the question?”

You’re so lost it’s not funny. But now you recognize the first expression. He was defensive.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be a dick. Sure, Joel, if you’re goin’, I’ll come out and see what the fuss is.”

“Don’t gotta try to be something you just are,” he says. There’s a hint of a smirk lurking.

You bite down a smile, rolling your eyes.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He leans down to kiss you.

“Whoa, mister. You already got a goodnight kiss. Getting greedy?”

He bites at your lip. “Hush,” he scolds, helping himself to several kisses. “That one expired. Gotta make it up to me.”

You’re grinning stupidly, now, but so is he. “Alright, you big baby. One more.”

But he stands up straighter and kisses your forehead instead. “G’night,” he murmurs.

As always, he waits until you’re inside with the door locked before he leaves.

You lie awake for too long, tucked in and cozy, but kept up by the colony of butterflies that he seems to have let loose with all that kissing.

You’re getting ready to head down to the Bison when there’s a knock at your door. You’re trying not to think about how weirdly nervous you feel.

It’s probably just from the thought of the crowd. There’s a reason you haven’t bothered to check out the bar. Small spaces and big crowds aren’t your idea of a good time.

Maybe they were, once. You don’t really remember anymore. Now, they remind you of the hangings back in Boston.

And that’s a train of thought you’d like to derail, so the knock is a nice distraction.

When you open the door, it’s Joel.

“Oh, hey. Thought I was meeting you downtown.”

“Figured I’d walk with ya,” he says. The words are almost mumbled, and he stands stiff just outside the door.

“Alright, gimmie a few, I was just gonna change.”

“Y’ain’t gotta do that, you look nice,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “Thanks?” And you gesture to where a pot of tomato soup had spilled down the side of your tee and then splattered across the bottom of your jeans when it hit the floor.

“Right,” he says.

“You can come in,” you say before heading up to your room.

You spend more time than you’d like picking something to wear. It’s those damn crowds, maybe, making you feel like you need to look nice.

In the end, though, you just pull on a clean tee and jeans with a flannel you’d nicked from Joel when you were out on the road. He hadn’t said anything about it so you figured he never even noticed. It helps, fortifying you against whatever’s making your heart beat out of your chest.

When you get back down, he’s standing in your kitchen. You stare, trying to force your brain to reboot and accept the image of him looming in your space.

He’s got a glass of water in one hand and the other wrapped tight over the edge of the basin.

“You okay?” you say.

He clears his throat and turns around. “Yeah, just needed this,” he gestures with the drink. “For, uh, for these.”

You blink a few times. There are flowers clutched in his other hand, stems trimmed to fit neatly inside.

“Okay,” you say with a shrug.

He sets the glass, now full of purple and yellow blossoms, on the counter.

“We better get going before Tommy sends a search party,” you tease, grabbing him by the belt loops. He lets you pull yourself in, leaning up for a kiss.

It’s syrupy, and his hands come to your waist so he can lick into your mouth, drawing soft moans from you both.

“There’s the hello I was lookin’ for,” he says. He looks you up and down. “Y’look real pretty, sweetheart.”

“You need your eyes checked, old man.” You move to the door, and he follows, waiting while you stuff your feet into your boots without bothering to untie them.

“Sure, let me just call the optometrist,” he rolls his eyes. “You know I like you in my clothes.” He’s patient while you lock the door, but as soon as your key is stowed in your pocket, he’s got your hands wrapped together.

It’s not until you’re sitting in the bar at a round table with Tommy and Maria that the gears finally come to a stop, and everything falls into place.

Joel’s dragged his chair to butt up against yours, and he’s got an arm slung around your shoulder. You’re leaning against him, talking to Maria about the equipment one of the patrol teams had found at an abandoned farm when your brain shorts out.

Of course, you don’t even get a second to process the thought before it spills from your mouth.

“Joel Miller,” you snap, sitting up and looking at him incredulously. “Is this a date?”

He pulls back a little, eyes wide and brows raised. “Yeah,” he says slowly, like he’s not the one that tricked you into this.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“I…” he looks wildly at Tommy and then back to you. “I thought you knew.”

“Let’s go get some drinks,” Maria says quietly. Her husband doesn’t get the hint, and she has to hiss in his ear about privacy before yanking him away from the table.

“You thought I knew? How would I have known?”

“I’ve been courtin’ ya for weeks,” he says, scowling. “Didn’t think I needed to spell it out for ya.”

“You’ve been what?”

He flushes a little but stands his ground. “Courtin’ ya. Y’know.”

“What are you talking abo—oh. Oh.” A lot of things are starting to make more sense. The flowers. The hand holding. The sweet partings. The way he pulls out your chair at the table.

“What the hell are you doin’ that for?”

He huffs a breath, arms folding across his chest. “Well, never mind.”

You take a deep breath, but it catches, stuttering in the suddenly humid room. “Can we talk about this outside?”

He must see it on your face because he puts a worried hand on your shoulder to steer you through the crowd.

Once in the open, soothed by the slightly cooler breeze, you cover your face with both hands.

“Joel,” you start.

“I was just tryin’ to do right by you this time around,” he tells the patch of grass under his boots.

You can’t help but smile just a little bit. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to do all that.”

He looks up at you, mouth still twisted down. But you see it for what it is again. Worry.

“You don’t have to try so hard, Joel; you already know I’m a sure thing.”

“I’m not just tryin’ to fuck you,” he snaps. His hands are clenched into fists, and he won’t look at you now. “I’m tryin’ to… I’m tryin’ to show you—”

You step closer, and he doesn’t shy away, but he does shut his mouth. You wrap your fingers back around his belt loops. “I know,” you say. “But I don’t need all that. I just need you. Just you.”

“I’m no good at this,” he grumbles.

“At what?”

“At… this,” he puts his hands on your hips. “At bein’… at relationships,” he finishes. His ears are red. “Never was.”

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve only had the one back before. You coulda lied and pretended to be a pro, and I’d never have known.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses the top of your head. “Just, are you… do you want to be—“

“Joel Miller, are you asking me to go steady?” you grin a little wickedly. “You wanna be my boyfriend? My boo? My beau?”

“Christ,” he says, wiping a hand down his face and groaning. He takes your hand and tugs, heading down the street.

You let him pull you along, still giggling and throwing everything you can think of at him as he weaves through the streets.

“You gonna call me shawty? Gonna make me your girl?”

He stops, and you run smack into him. “Yeah,” he says.

“What?” You hadn’t even realized you’d made it to his house, but he crowds you against it just to the side of the door. “You wanna call me shawty?” You can’t say you expected that.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna make you my girl,” he says. His voice is low, with his head tucked close enough that his breath brushes your ear. One hand is on your hip, and the other is pushing the door open and sliding the key back into his pocket.

Shit, that was smooth.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ smart to say now?”

You open your mouth, but only a squeak comes out, so you shut it and shake your head.

“Yeah? You wanna be my girl?”

Your throat’s so dry, you think you’d never had water, so you just nod a little, looking up at him through your lashes.

He smirks and kisses you, hands roaming as he walks you backward into the house. When he pushes you down onto the bed, you realize you don’t even remember climbing the stairs.

Or taking off your pants.

He makes quick work of your shirts and bra but then pulls the flannel back on you. You roll your eyes, but it quickly becomes involuntary when he runs a finger across your slit.

“Aw, sweetheart. You’re all wet. Somethin’ got you all worked up?”

But you aren’t so far gone yet that you can’t bite back.

“Yeah, turns out this hot guy has a huge crush on me, but he was too scared to ask me out. A shame, really.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, I really wanted to suck his dick, but I don’t date chickens.”

“Well, that’s just not very nice. You’re hurtin’ my feelings, sweetheart.”

“Big tough guy like you?”

His fingers brush against your clit for little more than a second before he pulls his hand away. “Yeah, I reckon you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

He stands up straight. “Get to it.”

You grin and bring your hands up to his belt, taking your sweet time to drag the end from the loop and tug it away from the buckle. You flick the prong back just as he growls his impatience.

He tugs it out of the loops and tosses it on the ground as you slip the button loose and drag the pull down the teeth of his zipper one by one.

He grabs your chin, fingers digging dimples into your smug grin. “Think you’re bein’ cute, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to do a good job.”

“Gotta have it in your mouth to do a good job, sweetheart. I taught you how to suck dick better than this.”

He smirks when your eyes darken and you whimper a little at the memory. He lets go of your jaw and shoves two thick fingers in your mouth.

When he pulls them back out, he shows you how wet they are. “You’re fuckin’ droolin’ for it, sweetheart.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble. But your fingers are nimbler, making deft work of the zipper and tugging his pants down.

When his cock springs free, you waste no time swallowing it down. Damn. You had meant to drag it out and tease him.

“See? Ain’t that better?” He strokes your cheek before cupping the back of your head. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You moan and look up at him through your lashes. He groans and pushes you down on his cock until your nose is buried in the thicket of hair at the base.

“Yeah? You feel pretty with my cock in your mouth?” His other hand cups under your jaw, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs.

There’s a foreign ache in your chest. You use it to distract you while you choke on him, letting him fill your throat and mind.

He fucks you like that for a few minutes, pulling out abruptly. “Hands ‘n knees, sweetheart.”

You obey immediately, though you settle on your elbows instead, a pillow tucked between your arms and head. He gropes at your ass, squeezing and rubbing his hands over it before he gives it a few firm smacks.

As if he can sense the complaint you’re about to make, he spreads you apart and buries his face in your cunt. You forget all about your impatience—you may still yearn for his cock, but his tongue is a hell of a consolation prize.

He’s fucking ravenous. He nuzzles in—you’re absolutely going to have beard burn—and devours. Two fingers pump in and out of your cunt while he licks around and in, and you can’t really tell where he ends, and you begin. It’s all so wet and rough and blissful that you reach your orgasm in no time at all.

But he pulls away, yanking himself from you with heaving breath while you cry out in disappointment.

“Beg,” he growls, slapping your ass before starting to build you up again.

You do. You beg endlessly, pleas and whines and praise spilling from your lips, broken by gasps and cries, but when you’re close, he pulls away again.

He kisses your swollen labia when you nearly sob in frustration.

“Mean,” you peek over your shoulder at him so he can see your wet eyes and exaggerated pout.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Just like you were earlier, teasin’ me.”

You gasp. “I made it up to you!”

He scoffs. “Yeah, but ya woulda sucked my cock anyway.”

Damn. He’s not wrong. That was as much for you as it was for him.

He’s stroking your clit gently, now, and you’re having a hard time keeping your brains in a line. Or ducks. Whatever it is, they’re not doing a very good job because you can’t remember what you’re mad about.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what, sweetheart? You need my tongue back?”

“Yes—fuck,” you gasp as he stuffs three fingers in your cunt.

“Hmm. Better apologize.”

“I’m sorry!” you say immediately.

He shakes his head. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I was teasing you, please, god-fucking—”

He’s sucking on your clit, pistoning his fingers hard enough that it almost matches the way his cock knocks your brain out.

Finally, finally, he doesn’t pull away. When you reach the edge, abdomen seizing, he works you through it and doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering on the other side.

He stands up, and you’d complain, but you’re too fucked out. Plus, he’s fully out of his jeans now, and all you have to do is stay like this, on your knees with your ass in the air.

He fists himself and drags the head up and down, parting you minutely but never slipping in. “Goddamn, you’re drippin’ for me.”

Your face is smushed into the pillow, but your moan is loud enough for him to hear.

“Whose cunt is this, sweetheart?”

“Wha?” you mumble.

He slaps your ass. “I said, whose pretty little cunt is this?”

“Yours, Joel.”

“And whose girl are you?”

You moan. “Yours, Joel.”

“That’s damn right.” He slams hard into you. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Joel. I’m your girl.”

“Fuck yeah you are,” he grunts, thrusting deep on each go, barely pulling out only to slam right in. “And I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

You’re embarrassed about it later when he teases you, but his words make you cum.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, cum on my cock. Just how I like it.”

His hand rubs over your lower back as he talks you through it, and it spills over into another orgasm as you clench and shake around him.

His mouth is filthy tonight, peppered with the grunts and moans you love to soak in. His hands never leave you. Eventually, he stops to roll you over and fucks into you with your knees bent up to your chest. Your fingers dig into his arms desperately as the force of his thrusts knock the air out of you over and over and over.

“Fuck, sweetheart, cup your tits for me,” he pants, pulling out and holding his cock at the base while it weeps, and when you obey, he tugs once, twice, before covering them in his cum.

“Shit,” he says, chest heaving as he catches himself on one arm near your head, hovering over you. “Shit, sweetheart. So good to me.”

He lowers himself onto his side next to you and traces an idle finger through the mess on your chest.

“Did you just fucking write your name in cum on my tits?”

“No,” but he doesn’t tell you what he did write.

He kisses you instead, and you roll your eyes but kiss him back.

You wait until after he’s cleaned you both off and settled back in bed beside you.

“So what’s it gonna be? You gonna call me boo or babe? Or babycakes?”

He rolls his eyes. “Will you knock it off?”

“No,” you admit.

“‘Sides, I ain’t gotta come up with somethin’.”

You pour. “Why not? What if I want a cutesy nickname?”

He rolls onto his side and looks you in the eye. “Already call ya sweetheart, don’t I?”

You flush, heart stuttering. “Oh yeah,” you whisper.

“Good enough for ya?”

“Uh-huh,” you say. “It’s perfect… sweetcheeks.”

His pillow smacks you in the face, and you cackle.

*title from "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fic #the last of us smut #fic: you know you never stood a chance

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