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Its not clocking to you that im standing on business

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every so often the discourse comes around again that basically boils down to âis it feminist for a woman to want men to be attracted to herâ and itâs like. no, itâs not. itâs also not anti feminist. itâs not relevant. itâs nothing. a woman wanting to have sex with men has nothing to do with feminism. being a lesbian or celibate is not âmore feministâ than being a straight woman. the point was always âwomen should not have to dress in a way that is attractive to men solely in order to be acknowledged by them at allâ not âwomen should never dress in a way that is attractive to men for any reason.â sometimes a woman wants men to want to have sex with her. thatâs not anti feminist. thatâs average. itâs also not feminist just because itâs her choice to do it. it is not related. feminism is about womenâs human rights. that doesnât mean itâs a feminist act every time a woman makes a choice.
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angel and evil steddie au where, for whatever reason, reader has put them on a sex ban/something of the sort, but one of them end up convincing her about âjust the tipâ. I think this could be both of them, but they slowly inch further and further in, swearing itâs just the top, but then u feel their balls fully pressed to u, and their only excuse is that âdoesnât it just feel so good/right though??â
A/N: i kinda went a bit crazy with this one, couldnât just write a little blurb⌠the âjust the tipâ thing is just so nomnomnom yummy and i need it like i need oxygen.Â
word count: 2022
âź gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here â˝
masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlistÂ

âCome on Y/n,â with yielding hands, Eddie carefully sat down next to you, âlook, I know I fucked up, I am well aware of that,â he emphasized, âbut itâs not fair for Steve,â he motioned to the creature sulking in the corner, staring out the cracked bedroom window, âhe doesnât deserve to undergo the same punishment, my punishment, I should take the full of it, not him,â he gesticulated, âfuck, I mean, just look at him. I think if you donât do something now, relieve him even a little bit, he will just snap and trust me, you donât wanna see that,â even from here you could see his ivory knuckles as the angel dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood, âplease, at least just kiss him a little bit.â
âFine,â you huffed, snapping the angel out of his daze. Pointing a threatening finger towards him as he turned in your direction, âbut youâre still not getting any, you got that?â you warned.
His stoic frown instantly melting away, he breathed out a soft smile, âgot it,â slowly moving towards you as felt the devil crawl away.Â
âI will just give you one kiss, alright?â your finger was still raised as he sat down beside you, his presents causing your arm to retract as he moved in closer.Â
âYep,â like coming up for air, his hands slid up to each side of your face, âone kiss,â and the next thing you knew, the angel dove in, and desperately pressed his lips against your own.Â
Like a man starved, Steve didnât let his touch falter for even a second, not even parting to catch his breath as his fevered kiss quickly grew out of control. His hands soon wandered all over your form, making you dizzy and causing you not to notice fully when he desperately tilted your body down, pressing you into the mattress with his own weight, just barely hovering above you as he attacked you with his ravenous lips.Â
âO-okay,â you uttered weakly, his touch succeeding as usual in being extremely persuasive, âI think that counts as way more than one kiss,â your breath ragged as you turned your head for your kiss to be out of his reach.
Your legs naturally rested on either side of him, curled up and hugging his hips as he brashly melted further into you, letting you feel the previously only suspected tent in his pants press against your hot panties, your short dress haven ridden up completely. Ignoring your comment completely, he simply moved on to your neck as he began to grind down against you, needily scratching his itch and making your breath grow more wild.Â
âJust a little bit more, please,â he croaked, smearing his plea all over where your pulse hammered on the side of your neck, âjust give me a little bit more, sweetheart,â his fingers digging into your soft thigh for support as he rocked against the growing wet spot on your exposed underwear.
âSteve,â you tried to fight how your eyes fluttered closed, still determined to keep the disappointment alive, that you had taken out on the both of them, though your arms still reluctantly slid up around his neck and fervently grabbed onto his broad shoulders.Â
Roaming a hand up to squeeze your tit, your nipples standing proud and visible through your thin dress, he purred, âcome on, honey,â catching one of the pebbles between his fingers and tugging on it teasingly, causing your thighs to clench around his form, âI know you need this as much as I do.â
âSteveâŚâ the rest of your words fell short as he raised himself up, hovering above you with his forearms strong on either side of your head, letting you stare into his breathtaking eyes.Â
Looking down at you as if you were turning into his favourite meal, he continued, âand maybe this could be a way to up his punishmentâŚâ with a finger on your jaw, he tilted your head over for you to gaze at the devil, silently watching from the corner of the room, âjust let him sit there and watch you get off, while he knows he canât have you. Wouldnât that make it much worse for him? Donât you want him to learn his lesson? Donât you want him to suffer?â
âI-âŚÂ fuck, fine,â you gave up in a huff, him haven driven your mind so fuzzy that you couldnât comprehend saying anything else, âbut you are not fucking me,â you said firmly, ânot with your tentacles, not with your cock, not even with your finger. You stay out of my pussy, okay?â
Victory seeping across his face in the form of a sly grin, he chuckled, âokay,â agreeing hazily as he dipped back down to catch your lips.Â
Sneaking a hand down between your close bodies, you felt him tug your sodden panties to the side and rapidly after that heard him impatiently freeing his hard cock, a low sigh leaving his lungs as he felt the intimate contact of his throbbing length rest directly against your weeping folds, leaning his torso far enough back for him to get a good view.Â
âOh my god, what did I just say?â you groaned as he, with a grip firm at the base, swiped his leaking tip through your petals, pursing your pretty pussy lips apart for him.
âDonât worry, honey,â he laughed, holding the soaked cotton to the side, hooked in his thumb, as he rubbed his length all over your cunt, relishing in your juices, âIâm not gonna put it in you. I just wanna feel you, please. Itâs been so long.â
âAlright,â you rolled your eyes, âitâs been like a few days, a week max.â
âI donât care, thatâs still too long,â you sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly tapped his heavy cock against your buzzing clit, making your whole body jolt in need.Â
âYeah, I bet if it was up to you, I would just stay like this,â you joked, ânever go to school or work again, just let you two play with me for the rest of my days.â
âIs that a proposition?â he smirked, cocking his eyebrows and pinching your plump folds on either side of his girth, letting him fuck it and glide the bulbous head over your swollen clit.Â
âUrgh,â you sighed, lifting your hands up and hiding your flushed face from him, âjust shut up and cum so I can go back to studying.â
âOh, yeah, you want me to be quiet all of a sudden?â you peeked down through your fingers and glanced at the sloppy mess he was making of you, âI thought you liked listening to me, listening to what you do to meâŚâ he fucked his fist, angling his thrusts so he slid through your slick folds every time, ending each movement with a persistent nudge at your clit, âdonât lie, I know how much it pushes you over the edge.â
Maybe it was your abundant wetness causing his thrusts to go sloppy or perhaps it was just him being greedy and angling further down, accidentally catching your weeping hole on his way through your folds.Â
âOh my god,â you whimpered, just the sensation of him rubbing himself over your entrance made your legs quiver, âdonât do that,â you warned as it barely breached one too many times for it to have been accidental.Â
âOh, come on,â he flicked against your opening, purposefully getting caught every time, âwhat if itâs just the tip, huh? Would that be alright? I just wanna feel you squeeze me, even if itâs just the tip.â
Biting down on your lip, his teasing becoming simply too much, you let out a whimper and nodded your head meekly at him.Â
The thing was, Steve was huge. There wasnât any other way to put it. He was a powerful creature from beyond this realm and his assents made that painfully obvious. The tip of him didnât just feel like the tip. The fat head was so big and staggering that it had your whole body just quit on you, the severe stretch being too much for it not to give out. It was always like that. It was so overwhelming that even just a whisper of him felt like he was rearranging your guts. If you didnât look down, you never truly knew how much of him he had given you till you felt his pelvis rut against your clit and his tip bully your cervix.Â
Pressing his lips against your own, he muffled your pathetic whimpers as he slowly fucked you with the tip of him, rudely yanking it out just to slap the heavy length against your puffy petals, filling the bedroom with the sloppy music of your need.Â
âFuck, you feel so good,â he groaned as you melted into the mattress, losing yourself completely to the moment, âmissed your little holes so much.âÂ
âDonât push in any more, promise me you wonât,â you panted, wiggling under his weight.
âI wonât, donât worry.â he hazily shook his head, capturing your lips once more.Â
âPromise me,â you turned your cheek to demand.
âI promise, I promise,â his empty answer rushed out as he continued to prod your needy little hole.Â
Keeping his lips pressed against yours, lapping up your whimpering moans, he crushed you with his body in a way that made the rest of the world just fall away from under you, making your whole universe be just him, the agonising feeling of him bullying your opening, and his warm eyes staring back into your own as you melted into a puddle beneath him.Â
âFuck,â you suddenly exclaimed as all the air in your lungs was forced out, âyou asshole!â the all too familiar overwhelming sensation of him reaching the end of what you had to offer, making you doubt if you were on the verge of cumming or about to punch him, âI knew you were gonna do that!â
Grinding his pelvis against your own, burying himself so deep that it hurt, he taunted, âif you were really so smart, then why did you let me?â relishing in the feeling of your cunt clambering down around him.
Trying not to give him the satisfaction, you muttered, âgod, I hate you,â though your conviction was lost completely as his sudden and powerful thrust made you moan out in enchanted ecstasy.Â
âAw, I love you too, honey,â he chuckled, kissing your fuzzy features as he found his greedy rhythm, âdoesnât this feel so much better, though?â
âI can feel you in my fucking throat,â you gasped, a statement true of every time he had filled you up.Â
Adoring eyes soaking in your every reaction, he growled in response, âexactly.âÂ
His hands then swiftly grabbed yours as they began to claw at his back, hauling them up above your head and locking them in his tight grip.Â
âThis pretty little pussy just needed to be stuffed,â he cooed against your lips, âitâs what she deserves,â his balls, dripping with your juices, slapped against your heat with every needy slam, âdeserves to be treated like this,â he empathized with his hips, âdeserves to be used,â he shifted his grip on your wrists, gliding up to weave his fingers with yours, âto be loved,â his nose rhythmically bumped against yours as he pushed you over the edge, âto be worshipped,â he fervently captured your lips, silencing the guttural cry that escaped as you trembled violently beneath him, soaking the bedsheets and gushing all over his cock.
Letting your eyes flutter shut, his gruff moans washed over you as your clenching cunt milked him of all of his worth.Â
âFuck,â he panted, forehead resting against your own as he insatiably continued to roll into you, sloppily fucking his cum even deeper and forcing it to spill out as your pussy clambered around him, âI love you so muchâŚâ
âYou are so terrible,â you said light-heartedly as a dazed smile bloomed upon your blissed-out face, your brows swiftly knitting together at his excessive and relentless desire.

Š 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble
#fic.rec#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#angel & devil steddie
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CRUEL INTENTIONS - part three: eden
18+ â MINORS DNI
pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader
summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.
contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, smoking and alcohol use, blood kink, chasing kink, masked man, depictions of a panic attack, depictions of a threesome, descriptions of heavy guilt, corruption kink, mentions of subtle bullying, mentions of shitty parenting, slut shaming, SMUT - 18+ , oral (m and f receiving), cum play, cheating (not on reader), NON-CON/DUB-CON, and stevie having gay panic <3
word count: 9.9k
WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/ DUB-CON, manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Please fully read the content warnings before proceeding. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you're not comfortable with it!
I previous part | next part I
I series masterlist | -main masterlist- l

Steve has a very strict night routine.
Five days out of the week, Steve has rugby practice until 7. Most boys on the team simply take a quick shower and call it a night, but no, Steve has a step-by-step routine that he follows each nightâ not even Nancy could sway him from the path of his night routine.
Because you see, when Steve was younger, his parents were prissy and precise. Everything was done on time, and every hour had a task. If Steve were to ever stray from that schedule, heâd be made to feel like a failure. Itâs ingrained in him, woven into his DNA, this life of doing things by order.Â
So itâs a little shocking (and concerning) that Steve immediately threw his nightly ritual out the window the second Eddie told him about tonight.
And it seems as if this will be a reoccurring theme with youâ Steve altering his life just to get a glimpse of you. Because ever since you came along, itâs like Steveâs entire world has been flipped and lit on fire. He canât stop thinking about you. Canât stop wanting you. Has to hold your name on his tongue when heâs balls-deep in Nancy because, fuck, youâre the only thing he wants right now. He feels bad, but not enough to stop.
âYouâre not fucking her yet, but she has to at least get used to you being around.â
Which is true, Steve supposed. Eddie is many things, but a liar is not one of them. If Steve hopes to ever swing his dick near the pot of gold between your legs, then he has to at least work a little bit for it. This way, he doesnât have to worry about you running off and telling someone about it.
Trust. Though a distorted version from your point of view, it is still an essential part of this plan.
Steve doesnât know much about said plan, which is kind of his fault. Because when Eddie approached Steve after a particularly rough day at practice, Steve kind of told Eddie to fuck off, so Eddie just left him with a quick, âIf you ever plan on fucking her, then I suggest you haul your ass to my room tonight, asshole.â So, Steve had no choice but to follow through on that.
Because Steve will never get through to you without Eddie. Because Eddie is the catalyst. Eddie is the bridge that Steve needs to reach youâ which is annoying because now when Eddieâs got his fist wrapped around his cock, and heâs thinking about you and how pretty you looked with his cum coating your lips, how good you taste, and how pretty you soundedâ those familiar brown eyes slip into frame and suddenly Eddie is right there along with youâ lingering. Like a phantom.
Steve canât stand it.
But he needs you. He needs you almost more than he needs air. Because Steve usually gets whatever he wants in the blink of an eye, but youâŚ
Youâre forbidden fruit.
And sitting next to you, so close to you, with you squirming and avoiding the screen that displays some cheap pornoâ Steve thinks he might explode.
You turn to Eddie, shy and scared, digging your fingers into his shirt and tugging. âEddie, I donâtââ âShh, bunny. Weâre watching a movie. Didnât I already tell you not to talk?â
You frown, big, wide eyes soft and wet with tears. You donât like this; that much is obvious. And Eddieâs struggling to keep a grin off his face like a cocky bastard.
There are soft moans spilling from Eddieâs TV. Two guys, one girl, and oddly enough, the girl looks like you. Steve thinks Eddie did that on purpose, and he can admit it was clever, even if you might be slightly too dumb to notice.
They have the girl on a cheap leather couch, splayed out on her back, with one guy stuffing his face between her legs and the other guy thrusting his cock deep into her throat, wrapping a hand around the bulge in her neck.Â
You press your legs together, shifting in your spot again, and Steve catches Eddieâs eye. Eddie subtlety nods towards your lap, giving Steve the green light (not that he fucking needed one), and Steve scoots closer to you.
Steve places a firm hand high up on your thigh, fingers spread deep into the insides of your thighs as he lowly says, âSit still, sweet girl.â
You frown, caught between two walls with nowhere to go. Nowhere to runâ scared little thing, you are.
Steve smooths his hand over your thigh, gently squeezing and molding your skin to his touch, soft and firm yet not enough to bring you painâ Steve doesnât think he could ever hurt such a sweet thing like you.
The porno is in full swing now, the two men fucking the lady like itâs the last thing theyâll do, and you have big, full tears running down your face as Steve pinches your skin to open you back up. He slinks his hand higher, the lip of your skirt kissing against his wrist, making way for him. His pinky dusts across the hem of your panties, wet as he had expectedâ all of you wants him, even when you act like it doesnât.
You gasp and tremble between the boys; your eyes squeezed shut with tears rolling down your cheeks thick as riversâ you look like a small bunny cornered by prey. Precisely what you are.
Eddie coos, shifts so heâs facing you more comfortably. He gently holds your face and coaxes you into opening your eyes. âYou like it when Stevie touches you, donât you?â He says.
You open your mouth to respond, but Eddie quickly butts in, âAh ahâŚâ He raises a finger to his lips, reminding you that he doesnât want a single word falling from your lips. And you listen so wellâ without a single protestâ Eddieâs done well on you thus far, but Steve likes to believe you have an obedient nature either way.Â
Sentenced to silence, you shake your head no, and Eddie laughs. Soft and deep, brown eyes swimming with hunger and patience, âNo?â He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. âYou think I donât know about you cumming on his tongue?â
You tense at that, body rigid beneath their touch as you turn to gaze at Steve with wide eyes, eyes swimming in guilt and the realization that Steve had lied to you. Your frown deepens then, more tears coming and Steve is now the one cooing. âOf course, I told Eddie, bunny. You knew that, though, didnât you?â He teases.
You let out a muffled sob, squeezing your eyes shut again as tears fall. âYou knew Eddie didnât say you could open your legs for me, and I would have to tell him about your behavior.â He chastises. âSo gullible, gonna get yourself in trouble being so stupid, sweet girl.â He gently coos. Your chest stutters with uneven breaths, and Steveâs cock throbs in his sweats.
With you being so unstable, Steve is able to slip his fingers past your panties without a fight. He slips his fingers through your wet folds, warm and sticky, leaning forward to press a kiss under your jaw as you twitch and squirm beneath his touch.
âLook at you,â Eddie prowls, âShaking for his touch. Again. Did I ever say he could touch you?âÂ
You huff, eyebrows pinched in frustration as you shake your head. âThen why do you want it?â Eddie asks. Steve sinks a finger into your warm cunt, wetness spilling around his knuckles as your thighs tremble. âIââ Eddie clicks his tongue, reminding you of his rule of no talking.
Steve crooks his finger up, searching for that gummy spot of yours, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck as you struggle against him. âGod, if I knew you were such a slut I wouldnât have wasted this much time on you,â Eddie says.
You break your rules then, voice pleading and sad as you claw at Eddieâs shirt, âIâm not! Iâm not, I swear. I didnât know!â You sob. Steve watches in awe at the way you crumble for Eddie. Youâre so desperate to please him, to be kept under his arm of security, unbeknownst to you that heâs the one you should be running from.
Steve is jealous⌠but he wants to learn.
âOh, you didnât know?â Eddie widens his eyes. You shake your head, hips twitching when Steve begins dragging lazy circles over your clit. âH-he told me you said it was okay.â You frown. âWho did? Stevie?â Eddie asks. You nod, and Eddieâs gaze flickers to Steve, a ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.
âI donât remember saying that, sweetheart.â Steve lies.Â
âStevie never said that. So, either youâre lying, or Steve is lying. Are you calling Steve a liar, bunny?â
You look frazzled, seconds away from bursting into an uncontrollable fit of tears as Steve continues playing with you. And the truth is Steve is a liar. He lied to you when he said Eddie gave him the green light to get between your thighs. But you know better than to ever point fingersâ again, a product of Eddieâs skilled teachings.
You shake your head no with a frown, and Eddie hums. âWell, did you like it? When Steve licked your slutty little cunt?â Eddie asks.
Youâre visibly panicked, wide eyes darting to Steve, knowing he will tell the truth if you lie. There is no way out but through for you, and you know it. You shamefully nod, and Eddie hums again. He pets a gentle hand over your hair, letting you nuzzle into him when you begin to tremble with pleasure. âWould you like him to do it again, bunny?â
And if youâre smart enough, youâll understand that even if you say no, Eddie will somehow coax you into splitting your thighs open for Steve again. You contemplate longer than Steve would appreciate, but the second he pulls his fingers from you and dips them into his mouth, your eyes flash with this little look that Steve has never seen from you.
Lust.
Steve sucks the juices off his fingers lewdly and greedily, never pulling his gaze from you. You watch, wide-eyed with trembling limbs and a pouty lip, Steve wanting nothing more than to kiss them until theyâre sore.
Apprehensive yet interested, you nod your head shyly, and if the two boys hadnât been watching you like a hawk, they probably wouldnât have even caught it.
Eddie slinks his fingers through your hair, knuckles gently curling at the root as he drags you closer, kissing you filthy and raw. You whine, thighs closing around Steveâs wrist when he finds his hand back on your warm skin. Itâs low against your lips, but Steve hears Eddie tell you, âCome here.â And you follow like an eager puppy wanting to please their owner.
Steve can taste you on his tongue, an overwhelming feeling to taste more as he watches Eddie move you around like youâre a lifeless doll. He places you with your back to his chest, your thighs pressed against Eddieâs knees as he gently tips your head back to kiss you again. Steve stands, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop off somewhere he could care less about because Eddie is splitting your legs apart, presenting you nice and pretty for Steve.
Eddieâs whispering things in your ear, things Steve canât hear over the low sound of sex from the TV, but he sees you squirm and pout, and he can only imagine heâs saying something about how dirty you are. How cute you are, all slick and ready for someone to put their hands on your greedy cunt.Â
Eddieâs eyes flicker up to Steveâs as his hands trail down your sides, thick and decorated fingers pushing your skirt up and petting over your clothed cunt before hooking his fingers in the of the material and pulling it to the side.Â
Steveâs hunger grows like an angry beast. Purrs deep in his chest, and puffs out so big it nearly breaks his ribs. He wants to take you right here and now. Press your thighs out as far as theyâll go, lick into your mouth and shove his cock deep into your cunt. Itâll hurt, probably be a fight to fit every girthy inches of him in, but heâll make it work. Youâre a fighter, anyway. Strong, even if you donât know it.
âWell, donât make her wait, Stevie. Look at her, sheâs dripping.â Eddie purrs, fingers sliding through your wet folds, parting his fingers into a âVâ to show off your throbbing heat.Â
Steve dips his knee onto the bed, leaning forward to rest on his stomach between your thighs. He takes you in, just as he did that day in the locker room, eyes casting over every piece of your pretty cunt and saving it to remember when heâs got his hand wrapped around his cock. Steve can smell you, drawing him in closer as you throb and a drop of slick slips from you. He groans, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, squeezing and molding you to his touch.Â
âYou want my tongue, princess?â He purrs. You whimper, shying beneath his gaze when he looks up at you from between your thighs. Steve blows cool air against you just to see you throb and squirm. You huff, lips pouting as you turn your head to look back at Eddie. Steve reaches forward, fingers gripping your chin to pull your face back down to look at him, âDonât look at him, look at me.â
He runs a thumb over your lip, wet spit catching the pad of his finger. âIs he the one about to eat your greedy pussy?â Steve teases. You whine, shaking your head no. âAnswer my question.â
Your hips squirm, halting when Steveâs fingers dig into your skin. Your answer comes shaky and shy, âYes, please.â
âGood girl. Using your words,â Steve dips his thumb into your mouth, dragging it over your tongue, letting you get it nice and wet before he pulls away, pressing it to your clit. Your legs tremble, panting when he runs circles around the tight bud. Steve purses his lips, spit drooling from his lips to drip down onto your pussy before he leans forward and places his mouth over your pussy, hungrily lapping and sucking.Â
âO-oh! Steve, Iââ âShh, shh. I want you to watch them.â Eddie speaks up, leaning forward to speak into your ear, directing your gaze to the TV. âLook at them. See how theyâre using her? See how deep theyâre fucking her, bunny?â He asks. You nod, Steveâs gaze fluttering as he devours you, fucking his tongue in and out of your warm hole.Â
âYou want us to do that to you?â Eddie asks, voice low and husky. It makes Steveâs cock throb in his pants. He thinks he hates it, but his mind is fuzzy enough with lust to ignore it. Steve grunts, nuzzling his face deeper into you, and your eyes widen at the words Eddie is saying. âIââ you huff, âI donât knowâ sâso bad. Itâs not right.â You slur under a whine.Â
Eddie hums with a low chuckle, âThen how will you repay us for making you feel so good, hm?â His hands slip up your shirt, kneading at your chest and cracking a smile when you arch into his touch. Steveâs hips roll into the mattress, eyes rolling back into his skull at the pressure.Â
âC-canât, Teddyââ âBut you want to. You want to be fucked, donât you?â He purrs. You tilt your hips into Steveâs mouth, your body begging for more as you shudder between the two boys. You whimper, and Steveâs eyes are fluttering open, locking onto the view in front of him, your pussy fluttering against his tongue. You frown, your fists balled against the sheets as Eddie holds your chin, directing your gaze onto the TV. âSee how much sheâs enjoying it?â Eddie purrs into your ear. âSee how thankful she is to be getting fucked well?â
You grimace at his words, your body melting into their hold with each passing secondâ Steve can practically see your brain melting out of your ears. You make the prettiest noises, and you move like you donât know if you want more or less, but Steve doesnât give you a choice as he tugs you impossibly closer, taking you for all you are. Eddie kisses your neck, wet and sloppily, and you whine like you hate it, but Steve can feel you pulsing around his tongue.Â
âYou should be thankful too, princess.â Eddie drawls into your ear, his hands still working beneath your shirt. Steve canât help it when he reaches up and yanks at the buttoned half of your shirt, groaning into your cunt when you gasp and squirm. The sight of your tits spilling into Eddieâs palms drives Steveâs hips into the bed once more, desperate for some sort of pressure.Â
Steve pulls away with a gasp, sinking a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you, his swollen lips parted and wet with your slick. âGo ahead then, doll,â Steve nods at you, âThank us.â
Your chest rattles with a sob, and Eddie grins as Steve coos, âSay it, princess. Thank us for taking care of your slutty holes.â He demands. You cry out then, legs trembling when Steve brushes against that perfect spot, teasing it to keep you away from that release that you crave.
âT-thank you,â you breathe, eyes squeezed shut, your body tensed as you wriggle between them. Eddie growls, gripping your face, gritting into your ear as he speaks, âFor what? What are you thanking us for?â
You gasp as Eddieâs teeth drag along your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to hazily look at Steve between your thighs, moaning when he slips in another finger. Your voice is heavy in shame, but youâre too fucked to refuse it as you say, âT-thank you⌠for taking care of my s-slutty holes.â
Eddie smiles, âGood girl. Let her cum, Stevie, sheâs been so good.â
Steveâs mouth is back on you in record time, lapping and sucking and pulling you closer and closer to the edge until youâre crying out a sob so loud that Eddie has to slap a hand over your mouth. Your hips rise off the bed, and Steve pins them back down, groaning into you as he keeps licking you, your thighs closing around his head. And Steve loves it; he loves the feeling of your cute little thigh-high socks scratching up against his ears and your warm, wet skin on his tongue. Steve thinks he could die here, really.
Eddieâs cooing in your ear, telling you how well you did, how much of a good girl you are, and his gaze snaps down to Steveâs when he pulls away from you with a gasp, wiping his mouth and liking his lips like a lion thatâs just demolished its prey. Steve sort of feels like one, honestly.
Eddie grins up at Steve, his eyes falling to the evident tent in Steveâs pants when he rises to his feet. Youâre barely cohesive when Eddie lightly slaps your cheek a few times, âWake up, bunny, weâre not done with your holes yet.â
Your eyes are blurred with pleasure when you blink them open, and Steve presses a palm to his crotch. You blearily blink at him, and he nods, âCome here.â
And like an obedient dog, you peel away from Eddieâs arms, your clothes disheveled and twisted as you crawl over to Steve. He reaches out, his hand slinking into your hair to drag you up until he can smash his lips onto yours, a hungry growl rumbling from his chest. Steve knows he should be more gentle with you, youâre such a fragile little thing, but the feeling of power that surges through him when he tightens his grip on your hair and leads you off the bed is damn near like a drug. He wants it in his veins all the time.Â
You stumble off the bed, your socked feet knocking against Steveâsâ itâs so fucking cute, Steve nearly coos. âOn your knees. Get on your knees.â He orders. And again, like you were programmed for this, you fall to your knees, your hazy eyes slowly blinking as Steve sits at the edge of the bed and tugs his pants down. You watch as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking a few times, his hand still stuck in your hair.
Steveâs voice is kinder than his touch when he asks, âYou remember what to do, princess?â Nodding with you when you respond, âGood girl, go on. Show me how thankful you are for me.â He says, and you shuffle forward to take him in greedily and sloppy, Steveâs eyes nearly rolling.
You suck him just as you did the first time, though itâs a little bit better than before; Steve supposes you and Eddie have been practicing more than enough. Even though youâre tired from your orgasm and your actions are less calculated, Steve finds himself enjoying it as if you were a pro.
Steveâs groans and mumbles of praise get closer and more slurred, and he supposes it was easy to tell how close he was because Eddie, a presence he had tried (and failed miserably) to ignore, steps into view right behind you, looking down proudly at his perfect project.
Eddieâs gaze holds a devious glare when he locks eyes with Steve as he sinks to squat next to you. He coasts a hand up your back, his fingers firm but gentle when they grip the back of your neck, his gaze finally leaving Steve to watch as your mouth greedily takes Steveâs cock in and out. And Steve is so close, and his body is so hot that he almost misses what Eddie says to you when he leans inâ but Steve hears it loud and clear, âDonât swallow. I want you to keep his cum in your mouth and show me, do you understand?â
And god, you fucking whimper and nod as best as you can, and Steve is a goner. And Steve usually cums a lot, sure. Nancy hates it, says itâs an inconvenience, but god, you take it like itâs nothing but a gift. You sit there, tear-streaked face, droopy eyes, and an open shirt as Steve cums in heavy spurts, coating every inch of your mouth as he curses. Itâs so much that some of it spills out the side of your mouth, and the little bit that dribbles from his cock when you pull away lands on your chin, and Steve canât help but tap his sticky tip against it.
Steve watches, blissed out and panting, as Eddie turns your face towards him. âLet me see, open your mouth.â He says, grinning when your lips part to show the thick mess in your mouth. âGood bunny.â He lowly hums.
And then, in the blink of an eye, Eddie leans forward, drags his tongue along the spilled cum of your face to lap it up before pressing his lips onto yours. Steve hadnât seen it coming. Not at all.
He didnât expect that he would be watching Eddie Munson eat his cum off your face tonight. He can see his tongue dipping into your mouth, lewd noises emptying into the air as he pulls Steveâs cum from your mouth and into his own. Yeah, Steve really didnât expect that. And he doesnât expect to feel his cock twitch at the sight of it either.
Itâs disgusting, is what it is. Disgusting and downright debauchery, but Steve canât look away, not even when Eddie pulls away and turns to lick his lips while gazing at Steve, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.
Eddie brings his thumb to wipe at the drop of cum that had been on the corner of his mouth before sucking it into his mouthâ and Steve nearly cums again, and his cock throbs, and Eddieâs gaze flutters to see the way Steveâs dumb dick has filled with blood yet again. A small smirk rises on Eddieâs lips, and Steve can feel the heat rising in his cheeksâ which is surprising, honestly, considering most of his blood is flooding downstairs. Eddieâs gaze flickers back to Steveâs wide eyes, and he finally saysâ âNot bad, Harrington.â
Steve nearly passes out.
What the fuck?
âHalloween is of pagan originâ therefore, we, as children of god, do not participate in any form of celebration on this day.âÂ
The week of Halloween has always brought an eerie feeling to you. Gorey movies and costumes of demons and distorted facesâ itâs scary. Aside from the candy, you never understood why people loved the holiday so much. Your friends never understood your reasoning or why your parents would never in a million years agree to let you go trick or treating, but their judgment never bothered you enough to change your opinion.
The priest looks at the students, an unwavering expression of sincerity plastered on his face as he says, âBe wise with how you spend your time this weekend. There will be consequences for any of you who choose to participate in any activities pertaining to Halloween; am I understood?â
The room mumbles in agreement, as does yourself, and the priest nods before carrying on to close mass. Beside you, Nancy sits with her bible and journal in her lap; eyes cast forward on the priest. Sheâs been glancing over at Steve all night, watching him during prayer and nearly half of the serviceâ you know this because you had been watching him right along with her, though your reasoning is not the same as hers.
Steve Harrington, star rugby player with his pretty brown eyes and honey-thick locks, was anything but kind when he pulled you aside before mass. He was greedy, possessive with his hold and grabby when he hiked your skirt up, pressed your face against the janitor's closet door, forced your thighs together, and rutted into them like a dog in heat. He had a rough practice, so he said.Â
He apologized for being rough, said he didnât mean it when he squeezed just a little too hard around your throat, and you all but sniffled and nodded and told him it was okay even though you were scared and your thighs now sting with friction burn.Â
He had a tough day, and the least you could do was not make him feel bad about it. That being said, it doesnât stop the stir of guilt that sat in your chest throughout mass.Â
Itâs hard not to feel guilty when your roommate's boyfriend's spend is sitting between your thighs, warm and squishy and tucked safely against your folds. Itâs sickening, and it nearly makes you dizzy with shame. But Steve said it was okay, that friends do this thing, and Nancy understands; she would just rather not discuss it.
You could barely focus during mass, too busy trying to grasp what you and Steve had just done and trying desperately not to show it on your face. Despite your efforts, you canât help but feel as if Nancy can see straight through you, and thatâs why she's been watching him all night.
As soon as youâre dismissed, you begin working up the nerve to ask her, the words rolling around in your mind as you rise from your seat, but the second you turn to Nancy, sheâs turning to go after Steve and youâre being tugged back by a firm hand.
âWhere are you running off to, bunny? Donât we have plans?â
You gaze up at Eddie, glancing over to watch as Nancy slinks out of the pew, and you nod, âYes, but Iââ âThen letâs go. Iâve got a surprise for you.â
Eddie all but drags you out of the chapel, tugging you along and slipping past the dark courtyard to get to the back of the dormitory. Nobody ever supervises the back of the dormitories. Eddie told you to always come through this route; that way, you can get into his room without a hassle.Â
The path is dark, nothing but the moon and Eddieâs firm hand to guide you, and you try to focus on anything else but the snap of twigs beneath your feet and the burn between your thighs. However, the only thing that comes up in your mind is Nancy.Â
âUm, Eddie,â you speak up.Â
âWhatâs up, bunny?â
âI think⌠I think I may have upset NancyâŚâ You frown.
Eddie slowly pauses, turning to look at you, lips pressed in a firm line as his eyebrows furrow. âDid you say something to her?â He asks.
Heâs towering over you, the darkness swallowing you both, exaggerating his stance. You feel like youâre drowning beneath him, sinking into the mud beneath your feet as you hastily shake your head no.
Eddie is so hard to read in this dim lighting, though heâs never been all that easy to read anyway. You can still hear a slight tone of relief when he says, âGood.â
Eddie turns and pursues the path, leaving you with panic and a racing heart. You didnât say anything to Nancyâ you made sure of it after Steve specifically sat you down and said you could never bring it up. But then, why could she not look at you all through mass? Why does it seem⌠tense between her and Steve? Are you to blame? Did you do something that may have upset her?Â
How do you even ask without revealing the open truth?
The questions swirl in your head like a storm, grey and murky as they slink down your throat and spill into your chest, spreading and laying out with a weight that makes you feel as if the world has just crashed on you.Â
You donât realize youâve made it to Eddieâs room until a plastic bag is shoved in your hands. You gaze at it briefly, shiny material crinkling between your fingers as you blink and glance toward Eddie.
Eddie nods, âPut it on.â
You step over to Eddieâs bed, put the bag on the mattress, and open it up to pull out the items inside. Itâs an outfit, three items to complete a set of what looks to be a bunny costume if the bunny ears are any indication. The only problem, though is the dress, the main piece of the outfit, is incredibly short.
âI canât wear this.â
You hadnât noticed, but Eddie was busy getting dressed on the other side of the room. You look over at him, taking in his all-black attire and heavily swallowing when he glances at your laid-out costume.Â
âWhy not?â He asks.Â
You glance at the dress before looking back at him, gesturing down at it as if itâs obvious, âBecause itâs revealing!â You exclaim.Â
Eddie rolls his eyes and resumes putting on the rest of his clothes, a long black robe-looking thing, âNo, itâs not.â He responds.Â
Your eyes widen as you look at the short dress, âEddie, I-Iâm not sure this will even cover my entire backside.â You shake your head. And when you lift it and turn it around, you realize that it definitely wonâtâ at least not comfortably.
âYouâll be fine. Other girls will probably be wearing something worse.â He dismisses.Â
Your teeth gnaw into the soft tissue of your lip as you put the dress back on the bed, eyeing it with worry and dread. Itâs⌠gross. Degrading and immodest in every sense of the word, yet Eddie, your friend, is asking you to wear it. You glance over at him, your world spinning again as you realize what this entire plan is: the costume and the urgency to leave all make sense.
You drag in a shaky breath, slinking your arms around your body as you take a step back, âI think,â you clear your throat before speaking louder to get your point across, âI think Iâm gonna head to my room⌠Maybe study a bit and go to bedâŚâ You softly say.
You step toward the door, not even glancing Eddieâs way because you know if you do, youâll be stuck trying to please him. But Eddie moves quicker than you can, his hand pressing against the wooden door to stop you from opening it.Â
âThe dress is fine, doll.â
Your gaze dances up his frame, miles of black leading to his dark brown eyes. You want to be strong, put your foot down, and tell him no, but your tongue is tied. As it always is when it comes to Eddie.
You softly say his name, and he tilts his head, an ice-cold glare stuck on your eyes, daring you to say something more. Gravity pulls on your lips and your eyes, water threatening to spill down your cheeks when Eddie lowly and steadily says, âGo put on the outfit.â
You want to cry.
You want to wail and kick and scream until Eddie has no choice but to let you run to your room and stay there until Monday morning. You donât want to be here. You donât want to wear this costume youâve been forced into, and you donât understand why Eddie, who is supposed to be your friend, is being anything but friendly tonight.Â
He doesnât care that you didnât want to wear the outfit. He doesnât care that itâs revealing, that you feel uncomfortable, or that itâs hardly forty degrees outside and youâre shivering. He doesnât care that you have to keep tugging the tiny dress down your thighs or that youâre practically stumbling over your feet with the heels he forced you to wear. And he doesnât care to ask why your mascara is running when he looks over at you and wipes it away; he simply tells you that you look pretty, âLike a doll.â
You feel disoriented. Far from yourself and disgusted, and you canât help the aching feeling in your chest when you think about how saddened your parents would be to see you like this. Half dressed in the middle of a Halloween party. Theyâd disown you, youâre sure of it.
Eddieâs hold is tight on you the whole night, whether on your hand, your waist, or his heavy hand resting on the back of your neck. He always has a hand on you. Oddly enough, Eddieâs touch seems to ground you despite how displaced you feel. Itâs comforting to have something familiar while you struggle to grasp your morality.Â
What are you doing here? How did you get here? Do you like this? Do you enjoy Eddieâs company enough to brave through this?Â
You think you do.
The music is loud, and itâs packed with dancing bodies from wall to wall. You have to repeatedly tip the bunny ears on your head back into place from where they keep slipping, and you debate ripping it off every time. You can feel the bass of the music in your chest, the scent of liquor and smoke filling your lungs as neon lights dance across your eyes.Â
Eddie has softened through the night. Youâre not sure what had him wound up before, but he is back to doting on you, occasionally turning to you and brushing the skin under your eyes as his gaze softens and he asks if youâre okay. And youâre not. Youâre cold and uncomfortable, and you want to go home, but Eddieâs touch is kind, so you find yourself nodding each time. And then he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, cool lips brushing against your skin, and returns to whatever heâs been doing all night. Stepping off into corners and sliding these bags to people in exchange for something you canât quite see in the dim lighting of the house, but when you asked him, he told you not to worry about it.Â
Thereâs a cup in your hands, a drink that Eddie gave you, which you have been slowly sipping for the better part of an hour. Itâs sweet, almost too sweet, but thereâs a bitter aftertaste that somehow balances it out enough for you to keep sipping on it.Â
Eventually, you find yourself squirming with the need to pee, turning to Eddie and leaning up to reach his ear and tell him. He squeezes your hip, âIâll be here, doll.â And you had hoped that Eddie would tag along with you for your safety and comfort, but he only turns back to the secretive conversation heâd been having.
You find yourself wandering up the stairs, eyes dancing around searching for a restroom. Itâs just your luck that the first door you open happens to be one, empty and surprisingly clean for the chaos unfolding throughout the party.Â
You try to be quick about it, eager to find your spot back next to Eddie, where you feel something along the lines of tolerable. You donât miss the reflection of yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, smudged mascara, taunting bunny ears, whorish clothing. You frown, tears pressing against your waterline as you gaze at yourself.Â
Wrong. Open, unrecognizable, and wrong.Â
Your shaky fingers grab at the bunny ears on your head, ripping them away and tossing them in the direction of the trash can, clattering to the floor in empty noise.Â
After having a moment to breathe by yourself, you think youâll ask Eddie to leave now, the pending urge to leave only growing stronger by the second.
You flip the bathroom light off and open the door, stepping out without looking, only to slam into a body. Apologies roll off your tongue as you stumble back, nearly falling from your stupid heels. Through your tears, you look up at the person, dressed in black and tall, face covered with a mask of black, distorted eyes, and a wide black mouth.Â
You blink, stepping back as you mutter another apology, but they say nothing as they gaze down at you. Your heart races, fear seeping through you and staining like berries as you whip around and walk awayâ Eddie. Just get back to Eddie.
Unstable on stilts, you make your way back down the stairs and into the lion's den, crowded with drunk people dancing and talking, unmindful of where they go. And this house is bigâ too big. Big enough that when you glance around and realize you donât know where youâre going, you start to feel even more panicked.Â
Every corner is different yet the same:: dark lighting, flashing lights, and the music is too loud. You donât know anybody here, and you donât know your way back to Eddie. A glance over your shoulder and the panic amps to the nines as you realize the masked man is just a few feet away from you.
Is he following you? Why is he following you?
Fear runs through you like a freight train. Your feet carry you faster, weaving through people as your weary gaze jumps from corner to corner. Masked figures, blood, and distorted faces meet you at every turn. You never liked Halloween; you think you hate it now.
Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and youâre scared. Every place you turn is empty of your relief, and every glance back is full of fear. And you donât feel good. You feel sick. Detached from your hands and feet yet so stuck in the walls of your skinâ where is Eddie?
Tears are streaming down your face, but you hardly feel them as you pace towards the sight of a door. You donât look back anymore, too afraid to see the gaping face of a void staring back at you, waiting to eat you aliveâ the hungry wolf and the weak lambâ just as Eddie had said.
The clearing of the front door is near, and your legs hardly feel real. You shouldâve never come here. You shouldâve never put on this outfit. You shouldâve never gone out on your own and lost Eddie. You are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and youâre scared.
And just as you come within a few feet of the door, a hand grabs your arm, and you jolt, pushing away until that familiar voice rings in your earâ âHey, itâs me. Itâs just me, where are youââÂ
You throw yourself into Eddieâs arms, tears falling in droves as you sob into his chest. Eddieâs embrace is like a nestâ a warm, carefully crafted, and woven nest made to hold you and keep you safe. You shouldâve never left his side.
His hand gently holds your head, soft coos seeping into your ear as he asks, âWhatâs wrong, bunny? What happened?â
You cry, body trembling in his hold as you try to piece your words together, âI-I couldnât find you and somebodyâ that guy w-was following me,â you cry.
Eddieâs eyebrows furrow in confusion, âWhat guy?â
Your words come out in choked sobs, a shaky finger lifting past Eddieâs shoulder, âT-the guy in the mask!â You stress.Â
Eddie turns, looking in the direction of your finger, confusion and something else etched across his face when he turns to you, ââŚThereâs a lot of masked people here, bunny; youâre gonna have to be a little more specific than that.â He says.
You cry, disoriented and confused because the man is nowhere in sight. Eddie guides you outside with a gentle hand on your back, softly cooing as you sob. The air is cold and sharp against your barely covered skin, but you hardly feel it.Â
Youâd been spinning all night, around and around in a foggy cloud of discomfort, and the crash hurts more than the fall. But Eddie is here. He is here, and heâs holding you, and heâs wiping your tears, and asking you to breathe, âTell me what happened, doll. Describe the guy.â
And through wracked sobs and shaky words, you describe what you saw: black cape, white mask, two big black eyes, and a gaping mouth. Hungry and ready to devour you.Â
âWoah, what the fuck happened?âÂ
Itâs Nancy; you know itâs Nancy despite your inability to see straight. She steps into frame, a gentle hand on your arm as she looks at your distraught face. Not far behind her stands Steve, a look of concern on his face.
âSome fuckinâ creep was following her,â Eddie mutters.
Your breaths come in shaky gasps, trembling hands coming up to wipe at your wet eyes. You try to speak, but your words hardly make sense, so Nancy softly coos and tells you to calm down.
Another flow of tears fall, and you only want to wrap yourself back in Eddieâs arms.Â
âAnd where were you?â Steve snaps.
Eddie looks at Steve, expression unreadable when he replies, âShe went to the restroom.â
âAnd you didnât go with her?â Steve prods.Â
Nancy consoles you, wiping your tears and telling you youâre okay as Steve and Eddie bicker over things you can hardly manage to wrap your head around. Finally, Nancy turns to them, âWould you two shut up? It doesnât matter. Letâs just get her home; I think weâve all had enough of tonight.â She snaps.
And even though youâre upset that Nancy has taken you from your source of comfort, youâre glad she leaves no room for debate. Nancy leads you down the steps of the house and you catch a glimpse of Eddie and think tomorrow youâll have to apologize for ruining the night. For losing him and making a scene of your own mistake.Â
As you fall asleep later, you canât help the few tears that slip down your face and drop onto your pillow as you all but hope Eddie can forgive you.
Steveâs had a rough weekend.Â
What started with a small disagreement with Nancy over his schedule with rugby has spiraled into Nancy completely ignoring him. On top of that, Steve is furious with Eddieâs mistake of not protecting you, and Eddie doesnât seem to care. And as if thatâs not enough, rugby finals are just around the corner, and Steveâs team is falling short to fucking play like they mean it.
Steve woke up with a headache, a sign that today would be just as rough as the night before, where Steve spent the better part of an hour with his father nagging him over the phone. Steveâs not sure what his father wants from him: a college degree or someone to run his companyâ either way, he wonât get both.
So, with a pounding head and a deep sigh, Steve got out of bed and began his game day rituals.
Morning run, shower, finish assignments, roll out that stubborn muscle in his thigh, and head down to the field.
Practice runs short, as it always does on game day. Steve doesnât want to waste any energy his players can use on the field, so he lets them off the hook earlier with a warning to not do anything stupid.Â
And usually, by the time the game is about to start, Steve is pumped and ready to win; he talks up a big game to his players and riles them up. But today, Steve is merely a silent brewing storm. Heâs tense. Thereâs a chip on his shoulder, and he canât fucking reach it, and he doesnât even know where to begin to figure it out.Â
Because the truth is, Steve loves Nancy. And he wants you. And he wants to be the perfect son. And he wants to win every game. He wants, he wants, he wants. But how much of it can he actually get?
Midway through the game, Steveâs team is down by enough to put him in a bad mood. His storm is pushing and pulling, churning in dark clouds on the sidelines as he watches his team play like shit. Steve isnât even here, he thinks. Heâs somewhere else. Somewhere between space and the busy thoughts in his head.
And as if the other team making another score isnât enough, Steve suddenly hears your name tumbling from the lips of another teammateâ âDid you see her on Friday? I had a feeling that innocent shit was all an actâ she probably fucks like she gets paid for it.â
And Steve bites so hard into his tongue that he tastes metal. Warm and bitter, inking across his tongue like spilled milk.
He shouldnât say anything. He shouldnât. Not when Nancy is already on his back, asking about his whereabouts and throwing fits over nothingâ because the guys talk. Theyâll open their mouths for any pair of walking tits, and Steve canât afford that. Not now. He doesnât need it.
But thenâ âWaitâ Harrington, isnât your girlfriend roommates with her?â
Steve glances at the two boys, snickering like thieves, enjoying the taste of berating you on their tongues. Steve can hardly hold back the snarl on his face when he looks at them and replies, âNo.â Stiff and quick.
Noel, the boy whoâd made the comment about you, is now sitting right next to Steve and looking at him in confusion, âBut theyâre friends, right? I see them together all the time.â He points out.Â
Steve canât deny that because itâs true. You and Nancy hang out on campus often, so he curtly nods, âYeah. Theyâre friends.â
Noel hums, spreading his thighs to take up space as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He looks at Steve and tilts his head as if heâs thinking, which Steve is sure he canât even do, âSo, can you confirm or deny that sheâs more of a slut than she lets on.â
Steve looks at Noel, imagining his hands wrapped around his neck as his face twists in distaste, âSheâs not a slut.â
Noel scoffs around a laugh, âSure as hell dressed like one the other night.â he snickers, nudging his other snickering friend, Barry. They laugh as if itâs funny, making a snide comment about how your ass looked in your dress. Steveâs tongue is nearly bitten off.Â
âThat doesnât make her a slut.â Steve snaps.
Noel and Barry glance at each other, and laugh in disbelief, âRelax, Harrington. No oneâs gonna tell Nancy you cracked a joke about how hot her roommate is.â Barry teases.
Steve doesnât say anything; just rolls his eyes and glares back at the game. But Noel is nothing if not a fucking test of patience. Steve never liked Noel, and honestly, if he werenât a good stand-off player, Steve wouldâve written him off long ago.
âThink you could put in a word for me, man?â
Steve doesnât bother looking at Noel as he snaps, âNo, dude. Fuck off.â
Noel nudges Steve as if pushing him closer to the line Steve has been dancing on all weekend, âCome on dude, quit being so uptight, itâs just pussy.â
Just pussy.Â
Steve doesnât know what snaps in him, but the second he hears itâ just pussyâ he hardly thinks twice before standing and curling his fists into Noel's jersey to throw him down off the bench.
âWhat the fuckââ
Steve steps over him, reaches down to grip the front of his jersey, and pulls him up, anger pumping through him in droves as he glares down at the boy and snaps, âSay one more thing about her.âÂ
Barry, Noelâs knight in shining armor, steps in and grips Steveâs shoulder, pulling him off his friend and shoving at his chest. He sizes Steve up, face twisted in annoyance as he seethes, âDudeâ calm the fuck down.â
Steve shoves the boy off of him, âFuck you.â He snaps. Steve steps up to him, âYou wanna know a real slut, Barry? Ask your sister, I fucked her.â He spits.Â
The words slip out easily like water, inky black with leeches to stick to skin and drain his veinsâ and it fucking works because not a second passes before a fist drives into Steveâs face, blood pooling in his mouth like an open dam. It rings loudly and echoing, with radio static in his ears. Steve can hardly hear his coach yelling, marching over to grab Steve off of Barry.
Steve doesnât feel the pain in his hand, but he will once the adrenaline wears off, his knuckles tapped from the hard bone of Barryâs cheek. He doesnât even remember punching him.Â
The coach shoves Steve in the opposite direction of Barry, frustration in every vowel of his words as he spits out, âYouâre out, Harrington!â
Steve doesnât fucking care. He doesnât care to be thrown out of the game, hell they were gonna lose anyway. He doesnât care that heâs the captain and should be setting an exampleâ Steve doesnât care. Heâs pissed off, and he can hardly think straight as he storms off the field.Â
Steveâs storm is windy and brutal, the anger so hot in his throat that he can barely swallow. Steve will regret what he did later; he knows he will, but how could he sit there and let them talk about you like that and not do something?Â
You, who is so kind and caring to assholes that donât deserve a second of your attention. You, who has never made yourself a problem yet has been picked on since youâve come to All Saints. You, who hardly knows right from wrongâ because Steve is so, so, so wrong, and still you look at him with these soft, doe eyes that make Steve want to scream and cry simultaneously. You, who Steve thinks about as he falls asleep next to his girlfriend.Â
How could anybody speak lowly of you?
Youâre worth every bit of regret Steve will face, he thinks. No matter how clouded his judgment is.
Thereâs blood in his mouth, and dull aching in his jaw that will soon become a throbbing pain, and one would think Steve has had enough fights for the night, but that switch is suddenly flipped yet again when a voice comes from a few feet awayâ âRough night, Harrington?â
The locker room is just steps away, and the noise of the losing game is now distant. Across the carpool lane stands Eddie, a cigarette burning between his fingers as the city light dances across his figure. He looks so stupid, standing there like a shadow, taunting Steve as if this is some sort of joke to him.
Steve gazes at Eddie, watching as he brings the cigarette up to his lips, talking around a cloud of smoke when he adds, âYou look like shit.â
Shaky breaths, radio static, warm metal. City light, cigarette smoke, stupid fucking shadow.
Steveâs jaw aches when he clenches his teeth before speaking, âAre you following me?â
Eddie raises an eyebrow, âDo you want me to follow you?â
Annoying. So fucking annoying, thatâs all Eddie has ever been. An annoying asshole with something smart to always say.
âWhy would I want you to follow me?â
Eddie shrugs, a hand in his pocket, âSome people like that shit.â He says.
Steve stalks over, unbridled anger in each step as he draws closer to Eddie. He sneers as he glares at Eddie, âThe fuck is your problem?â He snaps.
Eddie blinks, brown eyes gazing at Steve as he responds, âI donât have a problem.â
âThen quit being so fucking weird.â Steve spats, face twisted in disgust.Â
Eddie raises an uninterested eyebrow, âWasnât aware I was.â He coolly replies.Â
Steveâs fingers curl into his palm, an angry fist against his side as he glares at the boy before him. Eddieâs eyes drop to Steveâs fist, lips ticking up in a small smile as his gaze flickers back to Steveâs.
Steveâs face grows hot in anger. He leans in, venom on his tongue when he spats at Eddie, âFuck you.â
Eddie, like the asshole he is, gets a glint in his eye as he quickly whips back, âThank you.â As if nothing ever bothers him. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie knows how to bleed. Does he know how to respond to a punch? A kick? A bite? Steveâs not so sure that he does.Â
Steve decides spending another second on Eddie would be a waste, so he turns on and walks away. Heâs still hot with anger, still tasting blood in his mouth, still thinking about those assholes on the turf, still thinking about the asshole a few feet away from that knows how he tastes.
âAnd just so you know,â Steve whips around, storming up to Eddie again. Eddieâs gaze flickers back to Steve, tilting his head in interest. Steve feels a feeling heâs never felt before brewing in his chestâ a deep anger that heâs never tasted and comes up sharp on his tongue.
âIâm not fucking gay.â Steve spits.
Eddie blinks and nods once, âOkay.âÂ
Steve looks at Eddie, the other boys sharp features glowing under the lamplight as he says, âSo donât do that shit again.âÂ
Eddie looks at Steve, stoic expression plastered across his face before he tilts his head, âNot sure I know what youâre talking about.â He says, voice low and gravely.
Steveâs blood boils. His fists clench by his sides, and he ticks his jaw, pain rising from the punch heâd taken not too long ago, âFuck you,â he says, âYou know what Iâm talking about.â
Eddieâs eyes have an annoying glint when he responds, âSeemed like you enjoyed it, Harrington.â He says beneath a subtle smirk. Steve steps forward, fists curling into the leather of Eddieâs jacket as he leans in and seethes, âYouâre fucking disgusting. Try pulling that shit again, and I wonât hesitate to fucking kill you.â
Eddie smirks, brown eyes dancing over Steveâs face, a halo of warm light around his curly hair. Eddieâs voice is like hot honey, âThat a threat or a promise, captain?âÂ
âThatâs a fucking promise.â
Brown pools of earth swirling like a whirlpool stare into Steveâs eyes. Smoke and cheap cologne, hairspray, leather. Steveâs anger is so loudly rushing through his veins he can hear it, flooding through his ears like a river.Â
Steve is in the eye of the storm. The wind is still, the air is crisp, and the light overhead flickers.
Steve doesnât know how it happens. He doesnât know who invades whose space, but the taste of his blood mixes with the taste of cigarette smoke, dull with mint and spit. Eddieâs lips are warm and rough because Eddie needs some fucking chapstick, but Steve doesnât complain. He canât. Not when Eddieâs dipping his tongue into his mouth and tasting his blood, humming like itâs the sweetest thing heâs ever tasted.Â
Steveâs knuckles are tight in Eddieâs jacket, short nails carving into the leather. Eddieâs tongue is like a curious snake, running over Steveâs tongue, dipping through the valleys and ridges of his teeth, licking over his palate. Eddieâs tongue slinks back into his own mouth, his lips curving against Steveâs lips as his cold fingers brush against Steveâs hipsâ and suddenly, the winds are picking up, and Steve shoves at the curly-haired boy, stepping away with a heaving chest as he glares at the boy.
Eddieâs lips are tainted a faint red, brown eyes bright yet gloomy as they gaze at Steve. Steve grimaces as he wipes his mouth, spitting out blood onto the concrete as if Eddieâs spit is the worst thing heâs ever tasted.Â
Eddie smiles, looks at Steve like he can see right through him, and Steve fucking hates it. Steve turns, body thrumming in some sort of sick and twisted adrenaline, eyes cast ahead of him as he marches toward the door of the locker room.
âBy the way, Steve,â Eddie calls out behind him, âIt was me.â
Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck everything that he says and doesâ Steve hates that every word Eddie says leaves him questioning, hanging, wanting more. Steve turns and glares at Eddie, vitriol in his voice as he spits out, âThe fuck are you talking about?â
Eddieâs lips tip in a smile, boot-clad feet clicking against the cement as he stalks over to Steve, âThe guy following her. It was me.â He shrugs.
Steve looks at Eddie, dancing over his face, looking for a crack in his expressionâ he finds none. Steve feels⌠he feels stupid. Stupid for being blind to the little game Eddie is so easily playing, puppeteering you and him with an expertise that makes Steve wonderâ how many times has he done this? How many people?
Steve spent the whole weekend churning in anger, only to be told it was Eddie the entire time. He feels naive and dumb.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
Eddie snickers with a shrug, stopping in front of Steve, âMade it more entertaining.â
Steve swears he feels Eddieâs lips on his, and if it werenât for the sight of them splitting into a shit-eating grin, heâd believe they were still pressed against that lamppost, swapping spit and blood.
âFuck you.â Steve spits.
Eddieâs smile smears in Steveâs vision as he turns his back to him and walks toward the building, heart racing in his chest and bile churning in his stomach.
Eddieâs voice rings in his ears as Steve opens the locker room door, âGoodnight, Harrington.â
Steve hardly sleeps that night.
part four.
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a/n: HI HI HIIII !!! first of all, i am so incredibly sorry for how delayed this chapter was, i truly hope you guys even remember this story *cries*, either way, thank you for being so patient <33 this chappy was all about stevie battling his demons (bisexuality) soooo, not much established, but we're getting to the action very soon I promise!!
if you made it this far, thank u so much for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated and loved <3 I hope you all have a wonderful 2025 and stay safe; and as always, thank u and i love you always!!
#fic.rec#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington blurb#eddie munson smut
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at first, stiles didn't even notice it. the way his heart would race and his cheeks would flush; he was used to having that reaction around you. so used to it, in fact, that he had stopped letting it be a distraction. you'd giggle at his joke or look up at him through your lashes and he'd blush, fidget, move on. like his own little routine.
what got distracting was when he had made the sudden realization one day: you're hot.Â
the two of you had been friends for so long, crushing for almost that whole time, that by the time stiles looked up and saw you in your bikini, it was too late to turn back. he was a goner.
literally-he was out of lydia's backyard and in her half bathroom before you could even ask him to help with your sunscreen.
holy shit. he gripped the sink, glaring at his flushed reflection. get yourself together, perv. so she's got nice tits. really, really nice tits and thighs that could suffocate you and jesus her hips-
no! nope, no no no nonono. it is way too early for this. get real. she's seen you recite the entire opening crawl of the force awakens. she is not going to do that with you- woah! or that! get it together. get it together. get it together.
and so stiles marches back out where you and your friends are gathered, playing marco polo. you glance at him and smirk in that way the tells him you're totally cheating, only proven true when allison calls out "marco!" and you slide past her in the water without joining in the choruses of "polo!"s from all over the pool.
stiles stiffens. your goddamn smirk.Â
this is going to be a loooong day.
â
and it was. a long day that ended in his right hand wrapped around his cock and a fantasy he wouldn't repeat even if there was a gun to his head.Â
but that was over, and it was three days later, anyway. the pack was meeting at the movies to see a new romcom, which the girls were excited for, and the guys were... hoping it had a good soundtrack. it's not that they didn't want to go, it's just that their time- well, stiles' time could be better spent on things like useless research and avoiding his homework. that was his mindset walking into the theater.
now, he's about three inches from having no mindset at all. you're sat next to him, too close for him to remember a single detail of the movie, and you're wearing a tank top. low cut. lace trim on the top. prettiest color he's ever seen.
and stiles can see straight down it.Â
every time he glances over at you, whether it be an excuse of reaching for the popcorn or making a joke or listening to you talk, he has a view down your top right to where your tits are pressed together, rising and falling subtly with each breath. he wonders what the smooth skin of your breasts would look like covered in hickeys. he imagines the sounds you'd make if he had you pinned down, mouth enveloping your pert nipples. he-
he gets up a little too hastily when he rushes out of the theater, into the quiet hall.
"god," he mumbles, tugging his own hair. "fuck."
he has to will his blood to cooperate before he can show his face again.
â
it's getting worse.Â
stiles is chewing on the cap of the marker he has in his hand, eyes darting all over his murder board.
"wouldn't they hunt in packs? this fable here, it reads... stiles?"
stiles turns on his heel, watching you now as you sit on his bed. he's been avoiding looking at you lately, since just recently he had a close call when you hit your knee on scott's coffee table and whined a dramatic 'ahh', leaving stiles to imagine that noise, that face you made in other scenarios.
it's been harder (ha, ha, yeah, no pun intended. he's struggling.) since you asked to come over and help with some research he was doing after a meeting with deaton. you sat all pretty and focused on his bed, twirling and tucking and sometimes tugging your hair when you read out of a book he had borrowed (stolen) from the argent's.
so when he looked at you now, it was with great mental strength. especially when you started rattling off a really smart point he didn't think anyone else would notice that he had realized twenty minutes ago, giving him some time to zone out and watch as you gather your hair behind you, tying it up in a ponytail while you look up at him through your lashes. giving him a second to imagine you looking at him like that with your lips wrapped around his cock, letting him guide you by the ponytail-
stilinski! great. mental. strength.
he turns back to the murder board and nods, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the familiar heat spread all over and his jeans get tight. "yeah, that's- i know, that's a good point."
he hears you shift, the way you get noticeably quiet. "stiles, are you... is everything alright? you seem off."
he shrugs, nods, shrugs again. swallows. "yeah. just a bit tired, that's all."
he can feel your disbelief, but he'd rather feel that then disgust. you both sigh at the same time, and the evening moves on.
â
it's pretty much every time he sees you now. he's a mess, unable to choose between relieving himself and willing his dick to cooperate. you've made a mess of stiles, and he's dying.
you're wearing leggings today, talking to scott while stiles watches from the bench. coach is barking orders at a couple of stray lacrosse boys, and stiles is lucky enough to have dodged his attention this evening.
game night is usually when he's free of the hold you have on him, too busy gnawing on his goalie gloves and tracking scott across the field. but you and allison showed up early (curse scott and his happy relationship), so his pea-sized brain has time to imagine sliding the buttery fabric down your legs, kissing exposed skin as he goes. he'd definitely pay close attention to your thighs- he thinks about those more than he'd care to admit, and he's aware of how idiotically insecure of them you are.Â
because of his train of thought, he doesn't realize you've caught him staring until it's too late. you're prancing over excitedly and leaving scott to smirk at stiles all knowingly, and stiles resists the urge to flip him off.
"you gonna play, 24?" you nudge his foot teasingly with your own. he looks up at you and feels those telltale signs as he fanaticizes about tracing the line of your jaw with his finger, both of you panting softly as he coos at you while you whine pathetically. he has to blink away the thought before he can speak.
"um, i hope not. it's an important game." he leans back a bit and you tilt your head, clearly mulling over your next words. he fills the space in the meantime. "but if i do, i'll be sure to keep away from the ball."
it's music to his ears when you laugh. finally, finally he's blushing about something normal, having regular fantasies instead of these hormone fueled pornos that seem to be on repeat in his head lately. he smiles up at you and you take a small step closer to being in between his legs.
"i don't mean to bring it up so randomly..." you avoid his eyes, fiddling with your hands. "but i was just wondering if i've done something to upset you?"
he blinks. "what?"
"it's just that you've been distant and honestly, you're acting kind of like you're allergic to me. if i did something or there's something going on just tell me. it's kinda driving me crazy." you ramble, brows drawn together in discomfort.Â
stiles' eyes widen and he shakes his head, standing. his heart skips a beat when you have to tilt your chin up a bit to keep his eyes. "no, of course not. i didn't know... i guess i've... it's just-" he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. how is he supposed to explain this? 'oh, hey, girl i've been super into for a pathetically long time, i've been imagining what you'd look like if i pinned you to my bed and drove us both insane from a sex marathon! that's cool, right? not objectifying at all!'
you frown, crossing your arms. "just tired?"
it's bait, he knows it is. the same excuse he used less than a week ago to keep you from figuring him out. you're a clever girl and he's stupid when he's horny, so he has to play his cards right here. if you think he's lying, things will only get worse and there's a hefty chance you'll distance yourself. but if he tells a lie a little too well, you're going to be around him constantly again. either way, he's starting to wonder if he's a masochist from the amount of pain he's going to inflict on himself.
"it's nothing, really. i didn't mean to get distant." he clenches his jaw as he gauges your reaction, which is a less-than-ideal-but-not-terrible pout. he wants to smooth the lines of your forehead with his thumb and make you laugh again, but he has to focus. "let me make it up to you?"
you turn your face away (very, very not good) and huff. "no, don't worry about it."
stiles cringes internally and bites the inside of his cheek. how can he un-dig this hole he's in? "no, no, i want to. i shouldn't have made you worry. that's my fault. i'll pick you up tomorrow, we can get food. my treat."
you turn back to face him, and the way your bottom lip just barely juts out tells him you're playing it up, but he doesn't mind. he's come to realize that you like to feel earned, and he's more than happy to earn you. he takes a breath, eyebrows raised. "what are you thinking?"
you drop the pout (much to his relief, he was just starting to imagine you using that face on him when he makes you tell him exactly what you want him to do to you) and put your hands on your (perfect, sexy) hips. "i'm thinking that if you didn't mean to get distant then it was subconscious, and it's going to be more of an effort to be around me than not."
so clever. god, you're so hot when you use critical thinking skills.Â
stiles sighs and shuffles a bit. "yeah, okay, i can understand where you're getting that but it's wrong-"
"but it isn't. you've been proving it right all week and-"
"hold on, no i haven't, i've just been-"
"-you definitely lied to me in your room a few days ago-"
"-there's no way you're actually believing-"
"STILINSKI!" coach's voice booms over both of you, halting the beginning of an argument that probably would have only turned stiles on more. he whips his head around to where the entire team is gathered, and realizes he was so wrapped up in you that he tuned out everything around him, including the team rallying together to talk strategy before the game started. he blinks, distantly hearing you mumble a mortified "oh." and skitter off, leaving stiles to be completely embarrassed alone.
"would you like to join us or are you too busy harassing the young ladies in the general area?" coach's tone is strung with impatience, eyes wide.
"ah..." stiles glances to the spot you just stood in and then back to the team. "no, coach, 'm coming."
"fantastic." he drawls, before turning back to the team and continuing his rant. stiles is half-listening, half-daydreaming about 'making it up to you' in many different ways, positions, and places. for many hours.
yeah, he's dead. for sure. you're killing him.
â
although making it up to you currently involved a lot more clothing and a lot less begging, stiles was having a really good time. sat in his room, arguing about book to movie adaptations, both of you holding your own milkshakes. with all his time spent avoiding you out of... sex-driven fear? he really forgot how much he enjoyed your company.
"you wouldn't get it," you shake your head stubbornly as he stands and sets his milkshake on his desk so he can use the dry erase board in his room. "you don't read books."
"i do-"
"yeah, i don't count the bestiary."
"that's besides the point, anyway. i don't have to read the book to know whether the movie is a good adaptation or not!" he starts writing down movies he knows are heavily based off of books while you crawl across his floor to his desk, sneaking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. he's too busy to notice that the half-melted treat dribbles off of the spoon and spills above the cut of your tank top (the same one as the movie theater, actually) and onto your exposed thighs.
"fuck." you hiss under your breath. stiles turns to see what caused your quiet outburst, but his brain screeches to a halt at the sight of you.
perched on your knees, you're glaring down at the mess that's been spilled on the top of your tits and thighs, white sliding down to the line where they're pressed together. stiles doesn't even blink, just stares with a slightly open mouth at the sight of you. a small noise leaves his mouth and he can feel the tent in his sweats, but he's a bit frozen.
you look up when he makes the strangled grunt, looking caught with his milkshake in your hand, as if that's his issue right now. "uhh... whoops? i swear, it just flew into my hand! how crazy is that...."
your joke trails off as you really see his face. his eyes are dark and hungry, almost predatory as they sweep over your body, hanging on the spills that you made. his mouth shuts and his jaw clenches. his hands are curled into restrained, white-knuckled fists. and...
he's hard as a fucking rock.
it's easy to tell, with his grey sweatpants, and you feel your mouth water at the sight.
"it's fine." he mumbles, voice dry. you take a second before you realize he's talking about the milkshake. both of you are bright red. you force out a breath and he seems to come to, turning back around quickly. "uh, s-so, harry potter-"
"is that because of me?" you blurt, getting hotter in the cheeks every second.
"is... oh. um, i'm sorry, sorry, fucking shit-" he's not facing you.
"stiles."
stiles quiets, turning to face you finally. your stomach swoops and you shuffle barely closer. his adams apple bobs.
"yeah. it... it is"
that's it. a simple confession, but it feels like a chord being snapped between the two of you. your confidence grows. you made stiles like that.
"are you gonna do something about it?"
his head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at you. "you want me to?"
"why else would i ask, stiles?" you sound almost exasperated, like he's taking to long. he swallows and drops to his knees in front of you.
stiles. is crawling towards you. on his knees.
"are you... do you really?" he's close, so close now. looking into your eyes like they'll answer for you. like they contain every 'yes' you've been too scared to whisper.
which, honestly, is probably not far from true.
"i do. i really, really, d-"
his lips are on yours before you can finish, one hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer. you let out a muffled noise of surprise, mouth opening on it's own accord as stiles takes the kiss deeper, tongue exploring your mouth hotly.
"you're impossible-" stiles gasps, going in for more before he can finish. "-to be around-" his teeth nip your bottom lip. "-when i can't have you."
his lips leave a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth, so passionate that he misses, and he continues that trail onto your neck until he finds the spot that makes you squirm. his hands go to your waist, pulling you closer and knocking your knees together. you feel dizzy with want, barely registering his words.
"what-" you gasp, blinking and leaning into his demanding mouth. "what is that supposed to mean?"
stiles groans against the skin of your neck, kissing lower, closer to the sticky mess you made just minutes ago. "i can't think... can't even... fuckin'... breathe when you're near, y'look so pretty. j'st wanna make you-"
he interrupts himself again, opting instead to lick the ice cream off the top of your tits like he's starving. you gasp as the feel of his tongue against your skin, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the sudden pressure shooting down your stomach to your core. he's barely making sense and he still has you all foggy brained, swaying just a bit under his touch.
"you-you've thought about this? befo- oh-" you stumble, as he tugs lightly against the low cut to give himself better access to the sweetness melted onto your skin. he laughs, seeming to clear up a bit.
"yeah. you kidding me? i've basically been-" he's kissing back up your neck now, seeming to track a path to your lips. "-perpetually hard for the past three weeks."
you swallow thickly and he captures your lips. stiles tastes like vanilla ice cream and it's the most tempting sin, luring you over the edge. enticing you to do things you'd normally pretend you weren't into. he runs a hand down the side of your body, squeezing your hip lightly. "you're torture, you know that?"
"i could say the same to you."
he smiles at you, like a sap, like a saint. you feel your mind fall into his hands and your heart nestle against his ribcage. you no longer belong to yourself. you never have. and neither does he, it seems, as his eyes wander all over you.
"wanna move to the bed? i can clean up your thighs..." his tone is low, clearly suggestive in a bad-pickup-line way. you nod, giggling girlishly and stiles hauls you up to gently lay you back on his bed, tugging your tank top off on the way. his eyes linger on your chest before moving along, kissing a wet trail down your body as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. "god, look at you. you're gorgeous."
it's not like you're wearing lingerie and sexy makeup- you went to stiles' place to lounge, so you're wearing your lounge bra and some comfy shorts. stiles looks at you, though, as if you invented beauty. he sighs contentedly as he pulls your bottoms off slowly, eyes drinking in your stomach and hips and thighs like you're the first woman to have them. once he's got them far off enough, his hands press your hips back down and his eyes meet yours.
"not to late to back out. well- obviously it's never too late, it's just... okay, this is me asking for consent. i was trying to make it sexy, but it sounded a bit rapey."
you laugh breathlessly and nod at him where he stands, towering above your almost-naked form. "stiles, please stop talking and fulfill both of our fantasies already."
stiles grins and tugs his shirt halfway off before stopping abruptly. "wait- both?"
you roll your eyes. "stiles, why would i be so... so..."
"obedient?" he offers with a cocky smirk. you flush.
"agreeable, if i didn't want this?" you nibble your lip as he pulls his shirt the rest of the way off his body, getting on his knees at the edge of the bed and spreading your legs. your body moves pliantly under his hands. the sight of it all is downright promiscuous.
"well," stiles presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. it would be sweet if not for the sinful way his eyes are preoccupied with the wet spot on your panties. "i heard girls find consent sexy. maybe i screwed that one up a bit. what do you think is sexy?"Â
he asks in that absent tone that tells you he's storing away information as he kisses further up the inside of your thighs more fervently. you let out a breath that feels too shaky too early and watch as his pink tongue swipes out to lick up some ice cream spill. it makes you clench around nothing.Â
"any day now." his hand is gently rubbing your thigh as he moves to lick and suck almost crudely at your other thigh.
your eyes narrow slightly. "gimme a second."
he gets closer to where you're literally soaked for him, nibbling lightly at the plush flesh of your inner thigh. you shove down a low whine of impatience to avoid your already growing embarrassment.
"your attention to foreplay is- i like it." you admit softly and he hums, licking a stripe of ice cream out of the way. taking a second to think, you continue. "i like the... the desperation. how you took me without really... um... i like it when you just do what you want, i mean."
it's difficult to form a single thought once stiles presses a kiss against your clothed clit, being sure to add plenty of pressure. almost like a reward. "what if you don't like what i want? will you tell me to stop?"
you nod, chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. you glance down at stiles, and a small sound leaves your lips when your eyes catch his hand down his sweats, slowly stroking himself. he flushes.Â
"you.... can't i help?"
he lets out a small moan and his eyes flutter as he halts his movements. "i don't- i don't have a condom."
against all better judgement, you shake your head and thread your fingers through his messy hair. "it's okay. just pull out, yeah?"
his brows shoot up, and you wonder for a moment if he's about to cum in his pants. but then he nods and rises, standing in between your legs now. his fingers deftly tug off your panties, pocketing them in his sweats (for "safe keeping") and his lips part silently once you're exposed to him.
your legs begin to close, feeling suddenly too naked and too insecure for his hungry eyes, but his hands catch your knees easily, even giving you a little tap as a sign to scoot further onto the bed.
before you comply, curiosity takes over and you tug at the strings on his sweatpants. "wait, what about you?"
he tilts his head. "what about me?"
you narrow your eyes, fingers dipping under the band. "can i take these off?"
"oh!" his brows shoot up, as if he forgot about himself altogether. "oh, yeah, of course. please."
you waste no time pulling his bottoms off, his cock springing out. it's flushed and leaking, looking properly erotic in the dim lighting of his room. your eyes flutter up to meet his and you wrap your hands around him, pumping twice.
stiles moans, hips twitching into your hands on their own accord. "holy shit."
part of you just wants to finish him that way, positively fucking hooked on the look he has, pleasure pinching his pretty face all tight. he pants and pulls your hands away, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. "y're gonna make me cum, holy shit."
"i'm sorry, you just..." you fluster, laughing a tad at the both of you. he shakes his head, though, so you fall silent and let him crawl over top of you, kissing you deeply. he unhooks your bra with a bit of struggle and you both have to cooperate to get it off of your body. you giggle, and his eyes are locked on you as your smile slowly fades.
"don't be sorry," his voice is gentle, "i've imagined that so many times it should be criminal." he kisses you again and you feel his fingers graze along your stomach. stiles pulls back far enough to see your whole face and you wonder why- then his thumb is circling your clit.
the high-pitched gasp you suck in is not as embarrassing as the louder whine that leaves your lips once he's slid a finger into you, eyes closing for a moment to soak in the bliss. it feels like heaven, for a long moment. but his fingers are slow. too slow. and even when you cant your hips, he doesn't speed up enough to have you seeing stars (like you know he can). instead, he has you writhing impatiently. "you're... stiles, please."
it's whiney and pathetic, but stiles seems to stifle a smirk when he hears it, covering it with a sympathetic pout instead. "i know, pretty girl, i know. you gonna ask nicely?"
and you knew you gave him permission to do whatever he wanted. but you didn't expect to be into it. your lips part and you almost tell him to shut up and fuck you already. but you're hot with embarrassment and something else he can totally feel when your walls clench around his torturous fingers. so instead, you opt for falling right into his hands.
"please, stiles, fuck me already." you whisper, lips brushing against his when you speak. "please."
"there we go." he presses a peck to your lips and slips his fingers out. "such a good girl."
you aren't given any time to process that and the fact that it made you throb like a personal whore- stiles is already swiping his tip through your folds, making you gasp when it catches on your clit. he's panting heavily as he lines himself up, and you're a little surprised when he finds your hand and laces his own against it.Â
then, he's stretching you open and you're seeing stars, just like you knew he could make you do.
stiles is sweet, but he's not exactly gentle. hips rolling into you and his tongue pressing against your own. a hand pinning you to the bed and keeping him upright, the other tweaking your nipples or teasing your clit. he's all over you, pulling back every once in awhile to watch the way you arch your back and gasp out unintelligible pleas. his moans are about as pathetic as yours and he hisses "fuck" into your ear when you clench around him tightly. your dance goes on like this for a moment, and he's rambling horny nonsense constantly.
"stiles, 'm close-" you whimper, free hand pulling him closer by the hair. he gasps out and his hips snap roughly.Â
"yeah, me too. jesus, you're so perfect. look at you." he pushes some of your hair out of the way, eyes meeting yours. "you gonna cum for me?"
you nod, eyebrows turning up as you feel the warmth crawl up your belly. your free hand tugs at his mussed up hair again and his expression matches yours. he speeds up and you gasp and whimper, pliant under his body as he fucks you into his mattress.
"stiles, fuck, stiles, i'm-"
"that's it, there you go, hooooly fuck." he holds your hips down when you finish, rutting into you with an open mouth. he's got his forehead pressed against your own, swallowing each others desperate moans as he rides you through your orgasm. stiles' moan is sudden and loud when he pulls out in a rush and finishes on your cunt, his tip pressing into your overstimulated clit and making your legs twitch.
you gasp out a breath and sink into the mattress, sighing contentedly. when your eyes flutter open on heavy lids, stiles is gazing at you. he leans down and kisses you, soft and sweet and full of a confession long coming.
"that was..."
"amazing." he finishes dazedly, hands running over your bare skin anywhere he can reach. "want me to use my mouth?"
your brows raise. "stiles, i just came."
"i know." he sighs, playing with some of your hair. "it was so fucking hot."
"you said you've been perpetually hard for three weeks?" you attempt to change the subject, but stiles only grins wider.
"yeah, so i've got plenty more fantasies to play out before i'm out of steam."
you shove him lightly, fighting a flustered smile. "just- give me a second, you dog!"Â
"awooooo." stiles deadpans an imitation of a howl, nuzzling into your neck. "let me know when you're ready. i'll just be here. naked. on top of you. in the mood to make you pass out from orgasms. willing to learn every kink you have- which, hey, the praise kink was a good guess, right?"
you groan, pushing him off of you. your face is flushed red and you snatch his nearby discarded t-shirt when you sit up. "that was so out of left field."
"yeah, but was it? i mean, you-"
"i'm getting in the shower, stiles." you stand and take a few steps away from him before you turn to gauge his reaction.
his eyebrows shoot up from where he sits on the bed. it makes you bright fucking red when his eyes trail down and he watches a bead of his own cum slide down your inner thigh. he licks his lips.
"i'll come with."
â
this is from the vault, so if you've read it already, that's why! don't be afraid to interact with it anyway, i love crazy readers and feral responses sjdjsaskdj
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thinking about just the tip with best friend!clarkâŚ
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ŕšÂ°â・ ŕ¨ŕ§ nsfw . . . blurb for the mean time bcz im busy </3 â itâs meant to be awkward but i also havenât written anything suggestive in a while so be patient pleek!!
you were sprawled half-asleep on the couch within the kentâs barn, painkillers smudging your vision into a blur of purple and black hues, when suddenly; clarkâs heavy boots thudded up the loft stairs.
his red flannel was rolled to his elbows â forearms streaked with light dirt, and all you could do was stare dumbly as he crouched beside you, all broad shouldered and nervously sweating.
âma said youâre still⌠yâknow.â he gestured vaguely at his jaw, cheeks pink as your drool coated the plush of your swollen lips.
âstill dying,â you slurred, tilting your head back with a light thud. the motion made the room spin. âsâyour fault. your momâs apple pie is a calling for cavitiesâ
he huffed a half-hearted laugh, and sat on the edge of the couch near you.
in your dazed state; you hadnât realised how close he was until his knee bumped yours, denim rough against your bare leg, as your skirt scrunched upwards. his hands flexed, like heâd wanted to touch but held himself back.
âlet me,â he muttered, but his gruff tone didnât match the way his fingers trembled when he cupped your chin.
you let him pry your mouth open, too hazy to care about your dignity â and gasped softly when the rough pad of his thumb pressed into the swelling ache. your tongue involuntarily (or so you tell yourself) brushed his calloused skin, and he made a noise; a low, almost pained gruntâ before he shifted closer.
the old couch creaked dangerously as he leaned in, his hip accidentally slotting against yours.
you both froze.
for a pregnant pause, all you felt was the heat of him, the hard line of his muscular thigh pressing into the sensitive skin of your legs. the way his breath stuttered when your knee slipped between his.
âclark-â you breathed out, his thumb still pressing against your gums, and sliding slowly so that it brushed against the inside of your cheeks and on your tongue.
he was already moving, a hand slipping from your face to lean against the worn out pillow behind you. that small shift of his body had made him slide forward, his larger body pinning yours deeper into the couch.
your hips rocked up, âaccidentallyâ, and his free hand gripped down on your waist, holding you still.
âdonât,â he stuttered out, eyes wild.
though his own words fell to deaf ears, because you werenât sure who moved first.
maybe it was the arch of your back. but suddenly he was everywhere all at once, the thick muscle of his chest crushing against your hardened nipples, and his knee nudged your legs wider. it was all so clumsy, and reeked of desperation; his hips jerking forward once, before he had to wrench himself back like heâd been shocked.
âi-i have to-, tractor,â he stammered, jumping hurriedly himself off the couch, your saliva connecting a line from his thumb to your lips. he tripped over his own boots, catching himself on the doorframe, and fled.
you laid there, heart jackhammering, and underwear chafing against your swollen bud. your tooth still throbbed, but the pain dulled in comparison to the way heâd looked at you, like he wanted to eat you alive, and like it terrified him.
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DIVINE CORRUPTION
ship: stripper!charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw đ ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; p in v; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 8.4k a/n: whewww it seems father charlie have me in a chokehold i can't escape from; the fics just coming and coming, lol. anywho, sorry for the influx of father charlie fics, loololo but no worries, it's dimming down enough to where he's not on my everwaking thought, so yaaayy for other story updates, lolol. hope you guys like this little spin i had for charlie, ugghhh just picturing him as a stripper just makes me feral frâŚ.. â
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For many, the pinnacle of life is about hitting major milestonesâlanding that perfect job, finding a soulmate, raising a family.
But for you, it was always the church.
It wasn't something you stumbled upon in a moment of confusion or heartbreak. The church had always been there, a constant through the chaos.
Your grandmother had woven it into the very fabric of your childhood, ushering you through those arched doors every Sunday, her hands always clasped around yours with a reverence you could never quite forget.
She taught you that faith was a sanctuary, a place to find refuge when the world fell short, when people let you down, when the love you sought slipped through your fingers like sand.
It was the stained glass, the hum of hymns echoing through the old wooden pews, the weight of whispered prayers that had steadied you when nothing else could.
You clung to that certainty like a shipwrecked soul clings to driftwood, and at eighteen, you took the step that felt inevitableâyou officially joined the church as a nun.
It was a calling, as natural to you as breathing, and it felt like coming home.
Life within those stone walls brought you a sense of simplicity that the outside world seemed to lack. The days were structured, the routines comforting. You reveled in the discipline of it, in the purposeful rhythm of prayer, service, and study.
It was peaceful, a life devoid of the chaos that had plagued so much of your past.
While women rarely led sermons, you had found yourself in a unique position. Under the mentorship of Father Alistair, the head of your parish, you were offered the chance to help shape the messages that would be delivered each week.
Father Alistair, with his kind eyes and a smile that made the burdens of others feel lighter, had seen something in youâa gift for words, for storytelling, for reaching people in ways that connected the divine to the everyday. He gave you opportunities that others never would have, and slowly, you began to preach on Wednesday nights and lead Sunday school sessions for the children.
It wasn't traditional, but your voice had found a place in the community, and it was welcomed.
The congregation had embraced you, your presence a comfort to many. You loved seeing the familiar faces each week, their warmth meeting yours as you greeted them after mass or taught their children the stories of the Bible, helping them see the beauty in parables and faith.
There was something profoundly fulfilling in the smallness of it allâof making a difference within your little world.
But tonight, the peace of the day had finally come to an end. You were back in your small bedroom, tucked away in the far end of the church.
The air was cool, and the moonlight filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft glow across the room as you stood before the mirror, your hands working to carefully undo the coif around your head.
You let out a sighâa blend of exhaustion and satisfactionâas the tension of the day finally began to loosen its hold on you.
Just as you were folding the coif, smoothing the fabric between your fingers, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door. It startled you, the sound reverberating in the quiet of your room.
You turned, a frown pulling at your brow as you wondered who might need you at this late hour.
Stepping forward, you opened the door cautiously, the wooden frame creaking as it swung open. Standing in the dimly lit hallway was Sister Megan, her face lighting up instantly when she saw you. Her bright smile was almost contagious, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Sister Megan?"Â you murmured, surprised. She leaned forward, glancing down the hallway in both directions before meeting your eyes again, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper.
"Are you ready?" she asked, her tone eager.
You blinked, biting back a yawn as you tried to piece together what she meant. "Ready for what?" you replied, your voice still groggy from the long day.
Her smile faltered, her shoulders straightening as her eyes widened in disbelief. "WhatâSister ____, are you seriously telling me you forgot? You promised you'd go with me!"
You stared at her, confusion knitting your brow before the memory slowly returned. You recall the half-given promise delivered to her last year after missing her birthday due to being out of town for a small church conference.
You took a step back, lips pressing into a line. "Megan..." you firmly said her name as you turned and walked back into your room. You could hear her footsteps behind you, her presence lingering just inside the doorway.
"____, please!" she whined, her voice almost pleading as she trailed behind, her eyes fixed on you while you continued to disrobe from your nun's attire.
"Megan, I said no," you softly snapped, your voice tinged with frustration. Her shoulders sagged, and she looked off to the side like a scolded child, her posture drooping and her gaze lowered in dejection
You sighed, the tension in your stance easing slightly as you walked over to her. "I'm sorry for being harsh, Megan, but you have to understand... A strip club? Of all places, that's where you want to spend your birthday?" you asked, your voice softening.
Megan's head snapped up, her wide eyes gleaming with excitement as she nodded vigorously. "Yes! Most of the parishâthe other sisters, fathersâthey're all gone for the annual retreat. Who's to say I'd ever get a chance like this again?"
You stared at her for a long moment, your lips pressed into a thin line. Her eagerness was almost endearing, even if the idea seemed completely absurd to you.
Finally, you let out a resigned sigh. "Fine."
Megan squealed, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. You chuckled despite yourself, patting her back lightly before she pulled away, her grin still wide.
"Go ahead and finish changing," she said, practically bouncing on her feet. "I'll go do the same. After, let's meet up at the back gate." As she hurried away, you could only groan, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.
You shook your head slowly, knowing something was bound to go wrong. "Lord, please... keep us out of trouble tonight."
The night air outside was thick, and even in the back rooms of the strip club, Charlie could hear the dull throb of music and the buzz of conversation.
It was a Thursday night, the kind of in-between moment where the club was neither bursting with people nor empty and forgotten. Charlie sat in front of his station, elbows on the table, his gaze fixed on the reflection staring back at him in the mirror.
He picked up the bottle of oil, pouring a generous amount into his hand before rubbing it across his chest, letting it glide down his defined arms.
The overhead light highlighted every muscle, the sheen of oil accentuating the sharp lines of his torso.
He wore nothing but a pair of tight black speedos that left nothing to the imagination, a necessary evil for the performance ahead.
The room around him bustled with activity. Fellow dancers moved back and forth, some already dressed in elaborate costumes, others pulling on tight-fitting clothes, adjusting straps, and laughing over shared jokes.
There was an energy in the air, a camaraderie of sortsâsomething Charlie found both oddly comforting and yet disconnected from his reality.
His mind drifted, already half-lost in the beat of the music reverberating through the walls, until the sound of hurried footsteps pulled him back.
He looked up just in time to see one of his colleaguesâa guy named Rickyâapproaching. His face was flushed, a mix of exhaustion and excitement, and he was breathing heavily, sweat glistening at his temples.
Ricky wore a slutty cowboy getup: assless chaps, a fringed vest, and a hat tipped rakishly to one side, dollar bills sticking out from his outfit at every possible angle.
"Hey, Buck moved up your set. You're on in ten," Ricky said, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. He looked Charlie over, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Knock 'em dead, Father," he added with a wink, tossing a pile of clothes at Charlie before sauntering off.
Charlie caught the bundle, fumbling for a moment as he tried not to drop any pieces. He let out a scoff, shaking his head. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath, watching as Ricky swaggered away, his cowboy hat bobbing slightly.
Turning back to his station, Charlie unfolded the garments, his brow furrowing as he held each piece up. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be until, slowly, realization dawned on him.
A priest's robe.
He sighed, casting a glance at his original costumeâa sexy police officer uniform. He already had the tight-fitting pants laid out, the shirt with its shiny buttons, and even the fake badge. But what Buck said, went, and arguing about it was useless.
Piece by piece, Charlie pulled on the costume, slipping into the black robe and adjusting it so that it fell just right. The material felt strange against his oiled skin, clinging in some places and flowing in others.
Finally, he fastened the white clerical collar around his neck, looking at himself in the mirror. A weary, amused smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sightâa priest, ready to perform in front of a crowd that was anything but holy.
"Let's get this over with," he mumbled to himself, pushing away from the mirror and stepping out of the changing room. The music grew louder as he made his way through the back halls, the pulsing bass vibrating through his chest.
Whatever the night had in store, he was ready to face itâone way or another.
The night air was thick with anticipation as you and Megan made your way toward the male strip club.
It wasn't a place you'd ever imagined yourself going, let alone with a friend from the parish. But here you were, stepping into the club, the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something far more carnal wrapping around you like a cloak.
The lights were dim, casting a sultry glow over the room, and the heavy beat of music reverberated through the walls, making your heart thump in time.
Scantily dressed milled about, their bodies glistening under the low lights. Some wore tiny pieces of fabric that could barely be called clothing, while others sported themed costumes that left little to the imagination.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, desire, and the unmistakable scent of bodies in close proximityâa mix of perfume, cologne, and something more primal.
There were only a few groups scattered throughout the place, chatting and drinking.
You swallowed nervously, your gaze flitting around, the unfamiliar surroundings overwhelming your senses. Megan, however, seemed completely at ease, her eyes scanning the room with excitement.
"Relax, ____. This is going to be fun," Megan said, her voice barely audible over the pulsing bass. "Wait here, I'll get us something to drink." She gave your hand a comforting squeeze before turning towards the bar, leaving you standing there, caught between curiosity and anxiety.
You swallowed, nervously tugging down your dress. It was a simple knee-length black dress, but even then, you felt exposed without your habit. The air was heavy, a strange mix of anticipation and something much more primal.
Your eyes scanned the room, trying to take everything in without focusing too long on any one thing. But your gaze accidentally landed on a woman sitting in a chair, her head thrown back as a manâdressed in nothing but cat ears and a tailâgave her a lap dance.
Your mouth dropped slightly, your eyes widening as your face heated up. You quickly cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away and looking anywhere else.
Megan returned just seconds later, a smile on her face as she handed you a glass. "Here," she breathed, looking pleased with herself.
You stared down at the drink, hesitating before glancing up at her, about to ask what it was. But Megan spoke before you could. "They're mocktails," she said with a wink. "Soda water with a splash of grapefruit juice."
You let out a small sigh of relief, lifting the glass to your lips. The slight citrus taste was pleasant on your tongue, and you nodded approvingly, about to say something when a booming voice filled the room.
"Ladies, gather 'round for tonight's next set! You're not going to want to miss this oneâit's heavenly, it's sinful, and it's everything in between... Give it up for your favorite father... Charrrlieee!"
Your gaze was immediately drawn to the bright lights illuminating the stage. The glare was almost blinding for a moment, but then it focused, revealing the figure stepping into view. What you saw could only be described as a mix of shock and something elseâa mocking twist on something sacred.
The lights shone down on his face, catching on the sharp angles of his jaw and the glint of his eyes. His expression was dark, lidded eyes scanning the crowd with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He moved with an effortless, sultry confidence, his steps slow and deliberate as he walked toward the pole at the center of the stage.
The priest's robe hung loosely on his frame, swaying slightly with each movement, hinting at the lean muscles beneath.
You heard Megan let out a soft "oh" beside you, and you could only nod in agreement, your eyes glued to the stage as Charlie gripped the pole, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Before you could react, Megan grabbed your wrist, her excitement bubbling over. "Come on, come here!" she whispered urgently, dragging you closer to the stage before you had a chance to protest.
You stumbled slightly, your heart pounding as you found yourself suddenly right in front of the stage, so close you could feel the heat radiating from the lights.
Charlie looked majestic up there, his movements fluid and confident. He twisted around the pole with a casual grace that made it impossible for you to look away.
Despite knowing how wrong it was for him to be wearing something so sacredâdressed in the robes of a priestâyou couldn't help but appreciate how well it suited him.
The way the collar rested against his neck, the way the fabric swayed and hinted at the strong body underneath, it all felt like a blasphemous temptation.
Charlie began to slowly disrobe, his fingers deftly undoing the robe's fastening, letting the black fabric slip from his shoulders inch by inch. The lights highlighted every movement, catching on the curves of his muscles as the robe fell away.
He moved with deliberate slowness, showcasing the defined lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his abdomen. His body glistened under the stage lights, the sheen of sweat accentuating every dip and contour of his athletic form.
As the robe finally pooled at his feet, Charlie turned back to the pole, his gaze dark and smoldering. He rolled his hips forward, his body moving in a sensual rhythm against the pole, each movement drawing a few excited screams from the patrons mingling about.
His eyes half-lidded, he seemed completely in control, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as he arched his back, his muscles rippling with the motion.
Oh, for him to be a father... You blinked, your eyes widening at the intrusive thought, a flush rising to your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you shifted on your feet, desperately trying to focus on something elseâanything else that would keep your mind from straying into dangerous territory.
The song came to an end, far too soon for your liking, leaving you with a strange sense of loss. The crowd erupted in cheers, and just as you were about to turn to Megan, the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers again.
"Uh-oh, looks like we've got ourselves a birthday gal in our midst tonight, folks! Fellas, come on out and show her why she made the right choice by coming to Velvet Paradise!"
Your eyes widened, your head snapping to Megan in disbelief. "You didn't..."
Megan's face turned a shade of red, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her voice weak. "I-I didn't think they actually read the little notes at the end of the booking. I just mentioned it was my birthday..."
You gave her an exasperated look, though there was a hint of amusement behind it. Before you could say anything else, a group of muscular men emerged from the back, striding towards your direction with whoops and cheers.
A few of them carried cans of whipped cream, shaking them playfully as they made their way over, their grins wide and mischievous.
The crowd parted, giving them room as they approached. You could feel your pulse quicken, your gaze flickering nervously between the approaching dancers and Megan, who looked just as flustered as you felt.
The men surrounded you both, their energy infectious as they moved in, ready to make Megan's birthday one she wouldn't forget.
"You're not feeling left out, are you?" a low voice teased, startling you. A small yelp escaped your lips as you jumped, your head whipping around so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.
It was Charlie, standing closer than you expected.
You let out a small gasp, your breath hitching at the sight of him up close. He was even more handsome in person, the kind of handsome that left you momentarily dumbstruck.
A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, barely noticeable unless you were this close, and his brown eyes held a teasing glint that made your heart flutter.
Realizing you had been staring, you blinked and quickly looked away, a flush creeping up your neck before you shyly glanced back at him.
"I-I'm just here to support my friend,"Â you stammered, your words barely audible over the music.
You turned your head, looking back over at Megan just in time to see her let out a shriek of excitement, giggling as one of the men effortlessly picked her up, his body rolling in rhythm with the beat. She looked like she was having the time of her life, her laughter ringing out as the men danced around her.
Before you could react, Charlie's finger gently hooked under your chin, turning your face back towards him. Your eyes widened as you found his face even closer now, just a breath apart. You released a small gasp, your pulse quickening as his warm breath fanned across your skin.
"Well, that's no fun..." he muttered, a fake pout tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed softly against the underside of your chin, his gaze dropping to your lips before trailing back up to meet your eyes. The intensity of his stare made your heart pound, your entire body suddenly hyper-aware of the closeness between you.
A smirk slowly spread across his face, his eyes never leaving yours. "...How about I fix that, yeah?"
Your mouth opened and closed, your mind stuck, unable to form a coherent reply. "I-I-Iâ"
Charlie just placed his thumb against your lips, silencing you gently. "Shhh," he hushed, standing up straight, towering over you. His presence was overwhelming, his gaze almost daring you to react. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure you have a good time. Just enjoy the show..."
You could only watch as he began to move, his body swaying to the beat. He touched his hands down his chest, slowly gliding over his muscles, his eyes never leaving yours; and for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the chair, unable to look away or move.
Charlie straddled you then, his knees on either side of your lap, hovering just above you as he continued to dance. He rolled his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands gliding down his own body, never breaking eye contact.
His gaze seemed to pierce right through you, his lips quirking in a smirk every time your eyes widened or you let out a shaky breath.
The way his muscles shifted and flexed, his skin glistening under the stage lights, was mesmerizing. You felt your cheeks grow hotter, your heart thudding loudly in your ears, but you couldn't look away.
Like a predator toying with its prey, Charlie leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours. He straddled you fully now, his weight settling lightly on your lap, his breath mingling with yours.
His eyes were hooded, a dark, playful glint in them that made your pulse quicken. He tilted his head back, his lips parting as he let out a sigh, rolling his hips in a way that made your stomach tighten.
You had no idea where to put your hands, your mind too fogged to think clearly. Sensing your hesitation, Charlie grabbed your wrists, placing your palms against his chest.
He held them there firmly, moving your hands up and down the hard planes of his torso, his skin hot beneath your touch. The sensation of his body beneath your fingers was almost too muchâyour hands trembling, breath coming out in uneven puffs as he guided you, his eyes never leaving your face.
Charlie leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Don't be scared, sweetheart," he murmured. "You can touch all you want. I promise, I won't bite... unless you ask me to."
A shiver ran through you, your eyes widening as his words sunk in. He pulled back just enough to see your face, his gaze taking in every detail of your reaction. Seeing the nervous expression on your face, Charlie chuckled, his head tilting slightly as he looked down at you, an amused glint in his eyes.
"Aw, look at you," he teased, his voice dropping to a low purr. "Such a little shy thing, aren't you? All wide-eyed and nervous..." His thumb brushed along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to keep your eyes on him. "I could eat you alive."
Before you could even attempt a reply, the announcer's voice echoed over the speakers, breaking the spell. "Alright, alright, that's enough, fellas! I fear you're about to give the poor lady a heart attack!"
You turned your head quickly, your gaze darting to where Megan was. She was swaying between two strippers, her head thrown back in a daze, her laughter ringing out as if she couldn't believe this was happening.
One of the men was rubbing his hands up and down her body, while the other kissed along her neck, dangerously close to her lips. It was a lot, almost too much, and you let out a sigh of relief as they finally pulled away, allowing Megan to catch her breath.
Charlie began to rise, his movements slow and deliberate as he released your hands. He leaned down one last time, his lips brushing against your ear. "Hope you enjoyed the show, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dripping with teasing seduction. "I know I did."
Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as you watched him walk away, his confident stride carrying him back to the stage.
You barely had time to compose yourself before Megan plopped down beside you, a wild grin on her face, her cheeks flushed. "That was unexpected, but nevertheless enjoyable," she panted, her voice filled with excitement.
You could only manage a soft, shaky "Yeah," your hands still trembling as you brought your glass to your lips, taking a much-needed sip of the soda water. The cool liquid did little to calm your racing heart.
Megan's smile began to fade as she looked at you, her brows knitting together in concern. She leaned forward, her face scrunched up slightly. "We aren't leaving already, are we? We just got here."
You stared at her out of the corner of your eye; dealing with Megan in this moment felt like trying to reason with the stubbornness of the Israelites in the wildernessâconstantly wanting more, even when they had been given enough. You let out a small sigh, shaking your head. "Of course not, Megan. It's your special day, after all."
Megan's face lit up instantly, her smile returning in full force. "Good! Let's make the most of it then!" she said, her excitement palpable as she looked back toward the stage, clearly not ready for the night to end just yet.
Sometime in between the next few sets and a couple of drinks, you felt the urge to get up and head to the bathroom. As you stood, you noticed something differentâthe place looked brighter, colors more vivid, and everything felt a bit too warm.
Your lips fell into a frown as you tried to make sense of it. Leaning down to ask Megan a question, you found your balance off-kilter, stumbling slightly before hurriedly grabbing her arm for support, an involuntary giggle escaping both of your lips.
"W-what's wrong with me? Why am I like this?"Â you asked, your voice uncertain, your head feeling light and fuzzy. Megan giggled at you, her eyes half-lidded with a tipsy gleam.
"One of the dancers gave us some free birthday drinks," she said, giggling again.
Your eyes widened in shock, and you jolted forward, grasping her by the arms. "Why on heaven's name would you agree to that, Megan?!" you exclaimed, the panic clear in your voice.
She pouted, her face scrunching up as if you were being unreasonable. "It's my birthday," she whined. "Besides, I told him to water it down with this much water." She held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger pinched together, squinting slightly as she tried to indicate just how much.
You began to panic a bit, your mind racing. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," you muttered, a small haze lifting as the reality of the situation started to sink in.
You should have realized it wasn't just soda water by the second or third drink, but you'd brushed off the strange taste, blaming it on the lime and grapefruit novelty flavor wearing off.
You paused for a moment, giving your face a small smack, trying to pull yourself together. "Okay, ____, you're tipsy. Big deal, it's happened before. Remember when you and Megan drank a bit too much communion wine... yeah, it's kinda like that," you told yourself quietly, nodding in determination. "Okay, first things first, sober up. You have to get you both back to the monastery."
"Perfect, good idea, ___," you mumbled to yourself, trying to steady your balance. You caught sight of a dancer passing byâa guy dressed as a sexy dentistâand reached out, your voice coming out a bit shaky. "Excuse me, Doctor, could you tell me where the bathroom is?"
The dancer gave you a friendly smile, pointing towards a hallway on the right. "Just down there, sweetheart. Take a left at the end."
"Thank you,"Â you managed, offering a shaky smile in return. With that, you took a deep breath and began to stumble your way towards the hallway, your goal clear: sober up and get yourself and Megan out of here before things got even more out of hand.
The hallway seemed longer than you remembered, and by the time you reached the bathroom, you were feeling slightly less steady on your feet. You splashed cold water onto your face, letting it trickle down your neck, the shock of it helping to clear the haze in your mind.
You repeated it a few times until you finally felt a bit more awake, the coolness giving you a renewed sense of focus.
Walking back out of the bathroom, your senses felt slightly sharper, and you were determined to get back to Megan. You retraced your steps, carefully navigating the hallway, the pulsing bass of the music growing louder with each step.
Just as you were about to turn the corner, you heard the distinct sound of shuffling feet and a few hushed voices.
You paused, your brow furrowing as you peeked around the corner. There, you saw a trio of girls, two of them struggling to keep the third upright as they made their way down the hallway. The girl in the middle, her head lolling slightly, rambled as her friends half-carried her along.
"I could have sworn I saw Sister ____ and Sister Megan crowded by the strippers earlier," the girl in the middle slurred, her voice carrying despite her drunken state.
"Yeah, yeah," one of her friends replied, her tone annoyed. "Let's just get you to the toilet before you get sick all over me. Where is it again?"
"I think it's that way," the other friend pointed, her gaze unfocused as they continued down the hallway.
You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you pressed your back against the wall, trying to keep out of sight. You recognized that trioâespecially the girl in the middle.
Their mothers were notorious for being the most active gossips in the congregation, spreading rumors and secrets like wildfire. They had been the source of everything from speculation about affairs to the most scandalous secrets of the parish.
"Shit," you hissed under your breath, your pulse quickening. "Father, forgive me, but... shit, shit, shit!" You couldn't afford to be caught out here, not like this, not at this late hour, and certainly not in a place like this.
Panic began to rise in your chest as you prayed to any and all gods that they wouldn't come your way.
You were just about to make a run for it when you felt a strong hand grab your arm, yanking you backward. A small yelp escaped your lips as you were pulled into the shadows, your eyes squeezing shut in preparation for a painful fall onto the concrete floor. But instead of the cold, hard ground, you found yourself pressed against something warm and solid.
Slowly, you opened your eyes, your breath catching as you looked up into a pair of familiar brown eyes. Charlie's face hovered just above yours, his gaze intent, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
"So, sister, huh?" Charlie grinned, smoothly righting you on your feet, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary. His eyes glinted with mischief as he took in your flustered expression.
"Yes," you hissed, peeking around the corner anxiously. The trio of girls was getting closer, their voices growing louder with every second. Panic bubbled up inside you as you tried to figure out how to get out of this without being seen. "Now, get me out of here. I can't be seenâespecially not by someone who goes to the church."
Charlie gave a thoughtful hum, his eyes not leaving your face as he observed your jittery stateâyour wide eyes darting back and forth, your breath coming out in short, uneven puffs.
You kept glancing over your shoulder, your anxiety written all over your face. He watched you squirm for a few moments longer before he let out a sigh.
"Fine," he finally said, a smirk forming on his lips. "Unless, of course... you make exceptions for where the confession can take place?" he whispered, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his touch feather-light but enough to make your pulse race.
Your breath hitched, his words taking a moment to register in your hazy mind. Before you could respond, Charlie grasped your hand firmly and began pulling you along with him, his pace quick and confident.
He led you through a side door, down a narrow hallway, and finally stopped in front of a heavy-duty metal door. Without hesitation, he pulled it open, the hinges creaking slightly before he ushered you inside.
The door slammed shut behind the two of you, the noise echoing off the walls and making you jump.
You blinked, taking in your surroundings. It was a locker roomâa changing area for the dancers. It was empty, the space dimly lit with rows of metal lockers lining the walls.
Costumes hung haphazardly from open locker doors, some of them glittering in the low light. Bottles of body oil and cologne were scattered across the benches, and a couple of worn-out magazines, their covers adorned with scantily clad models, were left carelessly on a bench.
The air was thick with the scent of cologne and sweat, a reminder of the space's usual occupants.
Charlie's fingers were still wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He turned to you, that same teasing smile playing on his lips, his eyes trailing over your face as if gauging your reaction to the sudden change of location.
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as you took in the room around you. The sudden quiet of the locker room was almost unnerving compared to the chaos outside.
When you turned back, you found Charlie still looking at you, his body leaning casually against the door, effectively blocking your exit. His eyes held that playful gleam, like he was enjoying watching you try to make sense of everything.
"You seem a little tense," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. He pushed himself off the door, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you. "What's wrong? Afraid someone might walk in?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening when he noticed the flush that spread across your cheeks.
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got stuck, your mind a flurry of panic and confusion. Charlie tilted his head, a knowing chuckle escaping him. He let go of your wrist, only to brush a stray hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a second too long.
"Relax," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he moved closer, his fingers grazing down your arm. "I'm just trying to help you out... maybe offer a little sanctuary."
His words made your heart race, and before you knew it, he was guiding you backwards. You could feel the heat from his body, the closeness overwhelming your senses.
One step after another until you felt something hit the back of your legsâa swivel chair. Your knees buckled at the unexpected contact, and you found yourself falling back into it, the chair spinning slightly before settling.
Charlie took a step back, his eyes trailing over you with that same playful glint. He began to circle you slowly, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty room.
"Sister ____..."Â he repeated, drawing your name out slowly, savoring every syllable. His voice was mocking, almost as if he were speaking to a child caught doing something they shouldn't. "What's a holy sister like you doing in a place like this?" He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving you.
You cleared your throat, shifting in the chair, your eyes darting anywhere but at him or his half-naked form. "I'm only here for a favor," you managed to say, your voice coming out shaky and unsure.
Charlie paused his circling, coming to a stop directly in front of you. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a smirk. "A favor, huh?" he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement.
He bent over, his hands resting on either side of the chair, caging you in. He was so close now, his face just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes bore into yours, his smile slow and deliberate, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.
"How hard is it to obtain such a favor from you?" he asked, his voice teasing, laced with a dark edge that made your stomach twist in knots. He watched you closely, his eyes flicking over your flushed face, the way your lips parted as you tried to find a response.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Charlie's smile widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. He straightened up slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Should I get on my knees, sister? Will that suffice?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you through his lashes, the corner of his lips quirking up in a grin.
Your breath caught, your eyes widening as you looked down at him, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't form words, couldn't think clearly with the intensity of his gaze.
He was toying with you, his intentions clear in the smirk playing on his lips, and yet you couldn't move, rooted to the spot by the sheer force of his presence.
You swallowed hard, your breath caught somewhere between fear and something else entirelyâsomething that made your skin tingle and your pulse quicken.
"I-I just need to leave..."Â you stammered, your eyes darting away in an attempt to avoid his knowing gaze. But even as you said it, your body betrayed you, making no move to escape the trap you were caught in.
Charlie raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Leave? Now why would you want to do that?" He moved even closer, his chest nearly brushing against yours. He tilted his head, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You don't really want to leave, do you? Not when we're just getting started."
Your knees felt weak, and you fought the urge to close your eyes, to lose yourself in the feeling of his presence overwhelming yours. His fingers trailed down your side, brushing against the hem of your dress, and you shivered, your breath hitching at the sensation.
"Look at you,"Â he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, filled with something that made your stomach twist in anticipation. "All covered up like a good little saint, but here you are... letting me touch you."
You tried to protest, to find the words to push him away, but your voice failed you. Instead, you just sat there, your body betraying the conflict raging in your mind.
Charlie seemed to sense your hesitation, his smile softeningâjust a littleâas he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face.
"It's okay," he said, his tone almost gentle now, though the teasing edge never fully disappeared. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do. But something tells me..." He paused, his eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "You want this."
Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you noddedâjust the slightest movement, barely noticeable, but it was enough for Charlie.
He smirked, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. He watched your face as he did it, his eyes searching yours for any sign of protest. But there was noneâonly the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flush spreading across your cheeks.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your knee, then higher, his eyes never leaving yours.
"You're no virgin, are you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. The question caught you off guard, and you swallowed, shaking your head slightly.
Memories flashed through your mindâmemories of that one night when you were twenty, with a young parish in training.
It had been awkward, uncomfortable, and over far too quickly. The disappointment you felt afterward had only solidified your decision to remain in the monastery, to avoid intimacy altogether.
You had convinced yourself you weren't missing out on anythingâthat it wasn't worth it.
But now, with Charlie's hands on you, his eyes locked on yours, you found yourself questioning that decision.
"I thought so," Charlie murmured, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down, inch by tantalizing inch, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't worry, sister. I'll make sure it's enjoyable." He gave you a wicked smile, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake.
Charlie's lips trailed higher, his breath hot against your skin as he moved between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to hold you in place. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your skin, teasing, as his lips pressed against you, the sensation making your breath hitch.
He took his time, savoring every reaction, his eyes flicking up to watch the way your body responded to him.
You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the edge of the chair, knuckles turning white as his tongue flicked against you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before swirling his tongue over it, his movements slow and deliberate.
He licked you like he was savoring every moment, his tongue gliding over you, licking you up and down like an ice cream cone.
Your thighs trembled, struggling to stay upright as waves of pleasure coursed through you. His touch was confident, practiced, and you couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips, your hips instinctively arching towards him, seeking more.
He teased you relentlessly, his eyes flicking up to watch your face, to see the way your mouth parted, the way your eyes fluttered shut. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, exactly how to touch you to bring you right to the edge.
Just when you felt yourself about to fall over that precipice, he pulled away, leaving you gasping, your body trembling with unfulfilled need.
Charlie chuckled, his breath warm against your thigh as he looked up at you, his lips glistening. "Not so fast," he whispered, his voice filled with dark amusement. "I want to take my time with you, sister."
He rose slowly, his hands trailing up your thighs as he did. The look in his eyes made your stomach twistâequal parts thrilling and terrifying. He moved closer, leaning over you, and before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours. It was a demanding kiss, one that took your breath away.
You tasted yourself on his lips, the realization making your cheeks burn. He pulled back slightly, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he watched your reaction.
"You should ride me," he said, his voice low, almost a purr.
You blinked, unsure if you heard him right. "R-Ride you?" you repeated, your voice shaky.
He hummed, his hands moving to your hips, rubbing slow circles against your skin. He maneuvered the two of you, switching positions until he was the one sitting, his eyes gazing up at your flushed face. "You heard me," he teased, a grin pulling at his lips. "Or do I need to spell it out for you, sister?" He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want to see just how much that innocent little body of yours can take."
Your face heated even more at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. You bit your lip, feeling the hesitation and thrill mingling inside you.
After a beat, you shyly moved your hands to your waist, slowly pulling down your underwear, the fabric pooling around your ankles. You kept your skirt on, the hem brushing against your thighs as you hesitated, unsure of what to do next.
Charlie watched you with darkened eyes, the smirk on his face widening. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you as he let out a soft, approving hum. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured. You moved to straddle him, your movements tentative, but he stopped you with a tut, shaking his head.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice smooth but firm.
You blinked, confused for a moment before doing as he said. When you turned, you were met with your own reflection in the mirror across the room.
You paused, your eyes widening at the sight of yourselfâdisheveled, flushed, and vulnerable. The image made your heart pound even harder, your body tensing.
Charlie's hands were on your hips before you could say anything, his grip firm as he yanked you down onto his lap.
You gasped, your eyes widening at the hardness you felt pressing against you, the sensation sending a shock through your body. His chest was pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in closer.
"Look at you,"Â he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "So tense, so worked up. You must be so stressed, huh, sister?" He hummed into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
His hands moved to your thighs, lifting your legs and bending them, spreading you open fully in front of the mirror. The sight made you swallow hard, your breath hitching as you took in the view.
Charlie paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked at your reflection, his gaze trailing over every inch of your exposed body. With a deliberate slowness, he reached down, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.
You could hear the faint metallic sound of the zipper, your breath hitching in anticipation. He pushed his pants down just enough, revealing himself. His length was thick and already leaking, the tip glistening in the dim light of the locker room.
He groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, as he pressed himself against you, rubbing up and down your slit.
The sensation of his hardness, hot and heavy against you, sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes remained locked on your reflection, watching every reaction as he teased you, his movements slow and deliberate.
You felt the head of his length pushing slightly against you, the sensation making your breath catch in your throat, your body trembling. He teased you like that, just barely pushing in before pulling back, his grip on your hips tightening each time.
Charlie then slowly pushed inside, inch by inch, his eyes locked on your reflection as he watched your face contort with a mix of pleasure and shock.
You let out a soft whimper, feeling the stretch, your thighs trembling as you tried to steady yourself. His hands guided your movements, his grip firm and commanding, giving you no choice but to follow his lead.
He whispered in your ear, his voice a mix of teasing and lust. "I want you to watch yourself," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "See how good you look... doing something so wrong."
You began to move slowly, your body adjusting to the feeling of him inside you, the sensation overwhelming. Every inch of your skin felt hyper-aware, your reflection showing just how vulnerable you wereâstraddling him, your body bare and exposed.
The way his hands gripped your hips, the intensity of his gaze on your reflectionâit was almost too much. You felt the heat of embarrassment and arousal mix in your chest, your breaths coming out in shaky gasps as you tried to keep your eyes on the mirror, just as he wanted.
Charlie leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His eyes locked on yours through the mirror, his gaze dark with lust and something almost possessive. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating through your body as he moved you against him, each motion slow and deliberate.
"That's it," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Take me all the way, sweetheart. You can do it." He let out a low moan, his eyes never leaving yours, the intensity making your stomach tighten.
His head fell back for a moment, a deep groan escaping him as he continued to move you. He brought his head forward again, his forehead slightly glistening with sweat, and locked eyes with you once more. "Give me a prayer, sister," he whispered, his tone both mocking and pleading, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of desperation and dark amusement. "Beg for forgiveness while you ride me."
Your breath hitched, and you shook your head, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper. "I-I can't... it's blasphemous."
 Charlie panted, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Honestly, sister, there's nothing more blasphemous than me fucking a nun. Don't you agree?" His words sent a shiver through you, your body clenching involuntarily at the sheer audacity of them.
Your voice was shaky as you began to speak, your mind searching for a verse, something to ground yourself in the midst of the chaos. "Flee from sexual immorality... Every other sin a person commits is outside the body..." you panted, your voice barely audible as your body moved against his
Charlie's eyes rolled back, a deep groan escaping him as his hips stuttered, his thrusts growing higher and more erratic. His hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as his pace quickened, becoming desperate, sloppy.
The sound of his moans filled the room, each one growing louder as he neared his climax. At the last second, Charlie pulled out, a groan of frustration and pleasure escaping him as he wrapped his hand around his length.
He pumped himself furiously, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you beneath him. The heat built rapidly, and with a low, guttural moan, he came, his release spilling over your inner thighs and stomach.
The warmth of it spread across your skin, the sensation almost too much, the evidence of his desire marking you.
With his other hand, Charlie quickly reached down, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot. He rubbed you with purpose, his touch rough and insistent, his fingers slipping inside you just as the aftershocks of his climax still coursed through him.
His touch was relentless, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge once more, your body trembling as he pushed you towards release. The pressure built, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as your back arched, thighs trembling as your body finally giving in, falling over that edge into blissful oblivion.
When it was over, you both sat there, breathing heavily, the air thick with the aftermath of what had just happened. Charlie let out a shaky chuckle, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Amen."
You closed your eyes, a part of you feeling a strange sense of finalityâlike something had just changed irrevocably, something you couldn't ever take back.

A/N: dont know why but stripper!charlie has been running through my mindđŠ ...
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IF I WAS A RICH GIRL âĄ
pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson
summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia
wc: 12.9k
a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3
Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.
He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.
Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.
'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.
But then another quickly followed.
'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'
At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.
He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.
Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.
Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay. Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.
'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.
The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'
'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.
'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'
He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.
'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'
So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.
He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.
One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.
He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.
The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched. He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.
He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.
Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.
The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.
"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.â
"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.
"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."
"But it's not the same," you pouted.
Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.
"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.
Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.
"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.
Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.
"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.
He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.
You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.
"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.
Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.
"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.
"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."
You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.
"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."
He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.
Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.
After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.
"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.
"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in.Â
He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.
"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."
"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.
"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."
"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.
Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."
"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.
Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking.Â
"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.
"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.
"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."
"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."
"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.
"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.
Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.
In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.
Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.
As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.
For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.
You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.
It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.
And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.
He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.
You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.
"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"
You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."
Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.
You asked them how they got into âbodyguarding,â making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.
"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."
"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.
Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded.Â
"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.
"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."
Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.
"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.
His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.
"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."
"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.
Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.
"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."
"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.
Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.
As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.
After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.
"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.
"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.
"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."
"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"
"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.
Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."
"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."
The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."
So that was his problem.
Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.
"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.
Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.
It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.
Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.
Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."
"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."
"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.
"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."
"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"
"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"
"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."
Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.
"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."
"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."
"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.
"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.
Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.
The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker.Â
And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.
He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest).Â
"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.
"Yup!" you chirped.
You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.
He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.
"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"
"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.
"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.
Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.
"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.
"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."
"Ah, yet," he grinned.
"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.
He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.
"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.
You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.
Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.
The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.
He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"
His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.
"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.
"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"
He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.
"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.
"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.
He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.
"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.
A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.
"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.
His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.
Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.
Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.
"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.
"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.
He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog.Â
It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.
The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.
You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.
When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.
Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment.Â
Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.
That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.
You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.
Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.
As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.
It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.
"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.
"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.
The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.
His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.
"For you maybe."
"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."
You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.
"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.
"Cause I want it," you answered.
With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.
"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.
"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."
"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.
That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.
"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"
"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"
God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.
"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.
That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too.Â
He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.
He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.
Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.
So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.
Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.
It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.
A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.
You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?
His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.
"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.
Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.
Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.
"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."
Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.
"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."
"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.
You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie.Â
It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.
But then he spoke again.
"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.
The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.
"What else would we be doing?" you asked.
"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.
The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.
Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.
"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.
And that was the last thing he needed to hear.
He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.
Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.
He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.
You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.
"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered.Â
He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.
And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.
He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.
Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.
He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.
Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.
"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."
You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.
After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.
"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.
His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.
"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.
Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.
You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.
In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.
"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.
"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.
You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.
"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.
Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.
He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.
"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.
When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.
He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.
Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.
He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.
Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.
He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.
The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.
Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.
Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.
Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.
He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.
"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.
He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.
"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.
As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.
His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.
Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.
Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.
"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.
He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"
"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.
"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.
That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."
Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.Â
"That's different..." he defended weakly.
In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.
But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.
"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"
Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.
You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.
"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.
A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.
"F-feels good..."
Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.
His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.
Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.
He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.
Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."
"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.
In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.
"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips.Â
You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.
"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.
Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.
"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."
Jasonâs usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.
"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."
He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.
Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.
"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."
Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.
He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you.Â
"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."
Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.
"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.
"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.
Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?
He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.
You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.
"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.
The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.
He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.
"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.
Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.
He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"
Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.
You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.
Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.
You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.
But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.
More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.
"So sensitive," he teased.
You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.
He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.
"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"
Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.
"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.
That just spiked Jasonâs blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.
Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.
"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.
It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."
"You're the one who interrupted."
"You're the one who practically invited me to."
"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."
Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.
You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward.Â
"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"
"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.
His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.
"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.
"Come here," he said.
Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.
"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.
You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.
"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.
The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.
"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.
He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.
"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.
Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.
"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."
It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.
Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.
Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though.Â
The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.
"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."
"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.
Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.
You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.
The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.
Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.
Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.
"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."
In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.
He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.
But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.
"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.
He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.
You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.
"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. Iâll make her feel all better."
The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.
You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.
He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.
Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.
The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.
But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.
With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.
Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.
When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself.Â
You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.
He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.
You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.
Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.
He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.
"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."
Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.
"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.
He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."
"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.
"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."
"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.
"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.
They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didnât look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.
"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.
Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."
You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.
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sex with clark is the most reassuring thing ever. heâd be a great virgin killer, the way heâs constantly checking in on you, lovingly rubbing circles on your clit as he ruts into you from below.
thereâs something so powerful in the way a mountain of a man like clark just lets a pretty thing like you use him for your pleasure, lazily bouncing on his dick.
thereâs something absolutely yummy in the way he says âi know, baby, i know,â as you moan and keen. something even sexier about the way he murmurs when you finally find your rhythm, âthatâs right, baby doll. fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckmeââ
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clark kent is the kind of guy to plan out his entire future with you while heâs balls deep and absolutely pussy drunk. his body is pressed against yours with his head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily while making scarcely comprehensible promises in your ear. the fantasies swirl in his mind, becoming more vivid as he gets closer and closer.
â âm gonna marry you, a-and we can have a farm of our own, ah- and a big house with kids, fuckâŚjusâ want it all with you please.â and then in true clark fashion he gets a tad embarrassed about what he said after heâs done, but you both know he really means it.
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Cherry on Top !
synopsis: flashing your dadâs best friend leads to making milkshakes and a pounding on the kitchen counter.
Cw: age gap (reader is of age, anakin is in his 30s) // nsfw . flashing, tit play, pnv, âjust the tipâ (for a minute), major size kink, light food play, creampie
Notes: this prob has a lot of errors, my bad



It starts off small, at first.
Itâs not as if you meant to do it the first time. It was summer, hot, and you were in desperate need of release from your bathing suit that had been becoming less and less damp by the hour. Anakin, having a few beers with your dad, had decided to make his way from the bathroom upstairs. Not thinking, he had decided to open your door and ask you if you wanted pizza for dinnerâ per your dads request, of course. You were in the middle of taking off your bathing suit, and your bikini top was off. Anakin had paused, and when you noticed him you immediately began to scream at him to get out. He had complied, but he couldnât help the hardness in his jeans at the sight of your full, perfectly rounded tits. Your nipples had been on display, perky despite the hot weather, and you were so gorgeous with the mounds sitting against your chest. Anakin hasnât thought about anything else since.
And you know it, too. So thatâs why every few weeks you decide to rejog his memory. Heâll be doing things when no one is around, the most random tasks, and youâll lift your shirt up to your neck. You love the look that always glazes his faceâ that look of shock, that registers as he turns around from making a bowl of popcorn for movie night, or coming back from the kitchen to get another beer. His eyes bulge out of his head and a blush coats his cheeks. And then after a moment, heâll get cocky that youâre doing this, doing this for his gaze, heâll quietly mutter, âteaseâ. You always let out a tiny giggle, pulling your top back down.
âYou gonna do something about it?â You always reply, and he always shakes his head with an amused look and turns back to his original task. But nothing can stop the way his cock twitches and swells every single time, the way you can see his knuckles turning white as he grips the kitchen counter as your dad walks back in, unknowing. He knows he shouldnât make a move, so he doesnât.
Until now, in this present moment: your dad has went out grocery shopping, anakin has decided to come over early, and youâve asked him to make you a chocolate milkshake. Youâre practically a bratâ daddy gives you anything you want, and so does Anakin. So of course heâs going to get out the ice cream, milk, and other ingredients. His back muscles ripple as he pours the things into the blender, and the sight almost makes you drool. Smiling, you watch as he throws in some chocolate syrup. Diabetes for everyone else, but perfect for youâ Anakin always knows exactly what you want.
âDonât understand how your teeth arenât rotting out of your head,â he grumbles, even though heâs the one adding additional sugary ingredients.
âGood dentist,â you quip. You lift yourself up onto the counter and swing your sock clad feet against the cabinet. âCan you add a cherry, too?â
âYou know I always do, baby.â
The nickname makes heat creep up your neck. Biting your lower lip, you watch as he finishes making the milkshake and pours it into your favorite glass. He sprays on whipped cream, and of course, places a maraschino cherry on top. He grabs the heart shaped straw beside the drink and sticks it inside
He hands it over to you and you take a big sip. You lick up some of the whipped cream as Anakin looks at you for approval. His eyes follow your tongue coated in white.
âGood?â He asks, curious. You nod happily, beginning to sip again. He smiles, and begins to make one for himself. Your panties dampen as you watch the back of his shoulders once again.
He must be so strong, you think.
He finishes up his milkshake, sticking another straw into the a full glass.
You do what you usually do at times like these, and lift the hem of your top. Your nipples harden from the cold air. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head.
âAni?â
âYes?â
At the sound of your soft voice, he turns around. When heâs met with the sight of your tits, all plump and pretty, he immediately latches on to the look of them. Usually you donât keep your shirt up for longer that a few seconds, but you donât budge this time. Anakinâs gaze turns from amused to hungry in a matter of seconds.
âI need some help,â you breathe out. Anakin wavers. Heâs used to your constant teasing, but this is new.
âWith?â
Your eyes are pleading, as you look up at him.
âThey hurt, ani,â you say. âNeed you to rub them for me.â
He sets his glass down, moving around the bar to where youâre perched on the kitchen counter. Watching your desperation, he licks his lips.
âYou donât know what youâre doing.â He starts, voice low.
âI want you,â you say quietly to him. He shakes his head, almost resistant. But your pleading face can only be said no to a few times before anakin finally gives in, and when you begin to rub your tits with your own hands he scolds you.
âStop that.â
âWhy? Donât you want me?â
He exhales sharply, trying to avert his gaze but he simply canât. Approaching you slowly, he seethes.
âYouâre asking for it.â
âMhm..â you murmur softly. âDaddyâs gonna be home in an hour, though.. needa hurry.â
You let out a tiny moan when finally, finally, Anakinâs fingers ghost over the peak of your nipple. Heâs trying so hard to keep control. His palms are inches away from groping your chest, but heâs holding back.
âDaddyâs not gonna be happy if I do this.â He mutters. He looks up at you with something dark in his gaze. âDaddyâs gonna know youâve been a bad little girl.â
You push against his hands. His skin rubs against your nipples in the best way.
âMaybe I want him to know.â
Itâs fucked up. But Anakinâs cock is aching after that comment, and he begins to lightly rub your tits in his hands.
âYeah?â He groans, breath heavy. âMaybe we could take a few pictures next time. Post âem, let everyone see how much of a whore you are. Seducing daddyâs buddy like this⌠breaking a big rule, baby. Everyone would love to see it.â
Next time. The thought makes you keen, and you nod as he begins to heavily grope you.
âBet your dad would be so mad that his little girlâs being such a whore,â He continues. âGod, just wait until I get my fuckinâ cock in youâŚâ
âAnd youâll what?â You taunt against him. You lean into his earlobe and bite it playfully. âBend me over? Fuck me in my bedroom when my parents are downstairs? Know youâve always wanted to.â
Anakin letâs out something between a groan and a whimper, and his hands move from your tits to your hips. Your thighs spread simultaneously, and he places his hips in between yours. You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer to you.
âBeen wantinâ your cock since i graduatedâŚâ you mumble, running your nails along his shoulders. âSaw you in that suit when I was giving my valedictorian speechâ before that, too.â
âA suit, huh?â He doesnât kiss you on the mouth just yet, but he leaves little bites and runs his tongue along your collarbone. âThatâs cute.â
âMmmh. Gonna kiss me, yet? Or are you too weak to get it up, old man?â
âOld man?â He chuckles darkly, his grip tightening as he grinds his clothed cock against you. âOnly ten years older than youâŚnot even forty yet.â
âStill old to me,â you argue, and press your cunt against him. He shakes his head in disbelief.
âThat mouthâs gonna get you in a lot of trouble.â he mutters, and then his lips are pressing against yours, hot, heavy, tasting like chocolate and something thatâs predominantly Anakin. Itâs something youâve been craving for years, and your hair goes up to his blonde locks and pulls. The sound he lets out is utterly sinful, and you probe his lip with your tongue. He understands your challenge, but is quick to shove his tongue into your mouth instead to assert dominance over you. You gasp for breath when he pulls away and begins unbuckling his belt.
âWould taste you first, pretty girl, but we donât have time.â
And then heâs pulling his cock out, and heâs stroking it and itâs wet and itâs so bigâ circumcised with a pretty pink tip, a tuft of trimmed, light brown hair at the base of him, seven or eight inches, incredibly thick â and heâs dripping. He mustâve been worked up for a long while, watching you in your pretty pink skirt all day. Precum leaks over his fist as he moves.
Heâs absolutely gorgeous as he tilts his head back. Heâs putting on a show for you, and you know that he must be addicted to the attention. You look up with him at doe eyes and you push his hand away and replace it with your own. He stares into your eyes as you jerk him, his mouth open into the shape of an O.
You slide your panties to the side, rubbing your clitoris between your fingers. Youâre aching for Anakin, and you clench as you guide his cock towards your awaiting entrance. You rub him a little on your clit, and it makes you quiver. You press him up against you and he watches with arousal evident in his gaze. You want him so bad, but heâs so big. Would he even fit?
âGo on,â Anakin demands as he sees your hesitation. âLet me get my cock inside there, angel. Let me see what that pretty pussy feels like.â
You bite your lip, wanting to please him. You spread your thighs a bit more, using your other hand to grab one of your pussy lips and spread yourself open. Anakinâs tip breaches you, and after a moment you push it in until you feel full enough. When his thick cockhead pops in, you let out a tiny squeak.
Anakin groans the moment his cock is inside your heat, the tightness and warmth almost too much. You havenât even taken half of him, but you can feel the burn from the stretch. Your walls ache trying to accommodate him. You can feel tears well up in your eyes from the feeling, and Anakinâs thumb brushes against your bottom lip as he coos at you.
âOh, honey. Yeah, take the tip, baby. Jusâ like that⌠only a few more pushes ân Iâll be all the way in my babyâŚâ
âJust the tip?â You sniffle, hands grasping at his tattooed shoulders.
âMmm..â is all Anakin says, and then he pushes into you again, forcing his cock to make its way past your velvety walls.
Okay, you think. So not just the tip.
The tears really begin to fall now, his length also getting to you as he bullies his way into your tiny pussy. You can feel how much heâs throbbing inside of you, and if you didnât know any better you would think that you can feel his precum leaking inside your womb.
Anakinâs mouth is open, and he watches with fascination as your pussy swallows him whole. Itâs been a while since heâs had such a nice cunt, and the fact that youâre taking it for himâ even though it hurts you, even though daddy is gonna be home soonâ makes him so fucking horny. The guilt he felt before has now washed away into something primal and dark. He wants to claim you from the inside out. Fuck moralsâ heâs taken care of you for years, hasnât he? Shouldnât he be rewarded with something? Besides, youâve been showing your tits to him for weeksâ youâve been initiating it and practically begging for him to split you open like this. So how is it wrong, Anakin thinks, as his cock finally, finally fills you to the brim completely?
Yes, you heard that right. His hips are finally pressing against you, heâs finally balls deep inside your tiny cunt. You had begun crying a few seconds ago, hot salty tears staining your cheeks. Anakin leans down and licks them up with his tongue.
âSo pretty when you cry,â he murmurs against you. âLook at that. Took all of me, baby. Iâm so proud of you.â
Your heart clenches, along other things, and you rest your face in his neck as he begins to slowly move.
âYou are?â
âAlways so proud of you,â he whispers. He presses a kiss to your forehead, sweet despite the current situation. âGonna fuck you now, pretty girl.â
And that he does. Slow, at first, but his thrusts soon gain speed and something is beginning to build in your tummy.
âFaster.â You whine into his mouth as he kisses you. âFaster, Ani, please!â
And of course, he goes faster. He increases his pace and his hips hit yours ferociously. Itâs not long before his heavy sack is slapping against your ass and heâs groaning as he pounds you against the granite countertop.
âYeah?â He groans. âYou like when I fuck you like this? Like my big cock splitting you open? Clenching on me so tight, baby, like you donât wanna let me go.â
You mewl, grabbing onto him tight. You watch as his eyes land on your milkshake glass a little ways away. Itâs still halfway full.
He reaches over, pulling it towards the both of you. He dips his finger in, scooping up some the now melting whipped cream.
âCanât waste it,â he murmurs.
He rubs it along one of your nipples, coating it in white. He brings his tongue down, suckling the pebbled bud into his awaiting mouth. Your eyes roll back, nerves on fire as he scrapes his teeth against your flesh. He does the same to your other nipple, dripping with chocolate, and then is quick to shove his fingers down your throat. Sugar invades your taste buds, chocolate and whipped cream and syrup, and you greedily lick it up and suckle his fingers with your heavy tongue. He grunts, watching as you practically drink from his digits.
âGood girl,â he coos. âGood fuckinâ girl. Making me feel so good.. pussyâs so tight⌠yeah, lick me clean, you filthy bitch.â
You tighten, wetness leaking creamy streaks down his length. His degradations are making you even more eager to cum around him.
He smells so nice and he looks so good and youâre already so close. Anakin knows it, too, and his fingers on his opposite hand reach down to rub your clit with his thumb.
âCâmon, honey.â He taunts. âCum for Ani, baby, need you to cum on my cock so fuckinâ bad.â
Your eyes roll back, clenching up around him like a vice as his fingers fill your throat. You let out a strained, animalistic sound, as you coat his cock in your slick. Itâs the most intense orgasm youâve ever hadâ either because of Anakinâs fingers, his big cock, or the fact that youâve been in love with him since the age of eighteen. But either way, you let out a loud moan as you hit your peak, thrusting your hips against his as his cock hits that special, spongey spot inside of you. Even when you come down, Anakinâs hips are still pressed flush against you and heâs still pounding your cunt like itâs his salvation.
His fingers press against your pretty thigh highs, some of them still sticky from the milkshake, and you can tell by the sweat on his brow and the stuttering of his hips that heâs close. You begin to taunt him with sweet, sugar coated words.
âGive me your cum, Ani.â You whine. âPlease? I need it, need you to fill up my pussy. It needs your cum so badââ
âFuck!â
Anakin moans, loud, and his head tilts back as he slams into you one last time. Rope after rope shoots into your gaping pussy, and Anakin fucks himself through his orgasm until itâs on the brink of painful. When he looks down, he watches as he slowly pulls his fat cock out of your hole. The creamy strings of his cum stick to your pussy lips and his cock, and when his used tip plops out of your hole, a waterfall of thick hot cum spills out of you and onto the countertop. Anakinâs eyes are firey still, and he moves your legs further apart and lifts your hips up so he can watch the puddle of spend in your gaping hole.
âSo beautiful,â he mutters. His finger moves down to play with it a little bit, and it makes you clench. âDoes my cum feel good, baby?â
You nod, dizzy. He smiles, watching your tired eyes begin to flutter shut.
âNo, no.â He says gently, slapping the side of your cheek. ââŚWake up, honey. Your dadâs gonna be home soon.â
Slowly, you peel them open and he lets go of your shaking legs. He carries you up to your room, lays you down on the pretty pink sheets, shuts the light off. He cleans up the mess downstairs. All the while, you slip into a dazed and peaceful sleep.
And when Anakin throws the last cum coated napkin away in the garbage can, your dad arrives home with no idea what has just occurred between his precious girl and his best friend.
Š 2023 bratty-lxndry444 đ¤đť all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!
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do you think shy reader is still a bit skittish and shy when her and rafe are fucking?
hundred percent, but in a good way.

rafe had been thinking you were getting better at the whole skittish thing when you and him were in bed.
there was at least improvement from when you two had first started dating, even though you were the one constantly asking him to be rougher. at first when he tried, it was clear it was way too much for you.
that made sense to himâyou were mentally interested in all kinds of shit that your physical body couldn't handle. but he knew it wouldn't always be like that, and the one he had learned best in this relationship with you was patience.
rafe hadn't expected that he would have to constantly be reminding you about that word though. horny and impatient as you are, rafe knows better than to give in and push your limits. things with you are sometimes one step forward, two steps backwards, and so he's decided for both of you how to proceed.
unfortunately, sometimes you make it hard to stay patient. a well-timed short skirt or pretty dress, even the way you flutter your eyelashes and smile shyly at him has him reconsidering.
like today.
your skirt was pushed up, panties somewhere between your knees, while your boyfriend railed into you from behind. this is one of those things you wanted, one of the times you were actually begging for itâwhich had resulted in cutting lunch short early and driving back home at double the speed limit.
you're folded over, hands gripping rafe's headboard and face pressed into his bed. all around you, the scent and feeling of rafe overwhelms every sense, and mind unable to think, you let out moans muffled by his pillow.
your stomach tightens with every deliberate thrust, walls clenching around rafe and making him groan from behind you. rafe's stretching you out exactly how you need, in such a way that it's almost too much. all of it is, his hand gripping your hip and the other on the back of your neck, holding you in place. the way you know if you looked back, you'd see your boyfriend looming over you, face twisted in pleasure, probably grunting dirty words that will make you blush.
"y'like that, kid? i bet you do-" it comes out in grunts, between thrusts. you moan out an answer, but then you realize what rafe is really talking about, feeling his hand on your sensitive clit, rubbing you roughly while your body spasms.
it's too much now if it wasn't already. you pull away from him, trying to crawl up the bed and escape the overstimulation. you grasp at sheets when you feel it.
rafe grips both your hips tightly and pulls you back to him, your hand loosening immediately as you're yanked back. holding you down, he keeps pounding into you.
"don't run from it, baby. you're fine."
and if rafe says you're fine, then you're fine.

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#needthatdonetomeasap
missionary so you can pin her wrists down to prevent her from hiding her face
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A Friendly Proposition
Based on this request: Hi mae!!! Would you be open to writing tasm!peter parker or Remus lupin with best friend reader who hasnât cum before, and he is outraged when he hears this? And heâs like, why donât I show you (wink wink) -- Thank you for requesting!! I chose Remus for this but I would love to do some Peter smut in the future if anyone has any ideas :)
cw: smut mdni, fingering, not necessarily inexperienced reader but kind of has that vibe, basically smut no plot
bestfriend!Remus x fem!reader ⥠2.2k words
âI dunno, I guess overall it was fine.âÂ
âFine?â Remus looks up from where heâs lying on his bed, one eyebrow lifted in that way you donât think he knows he does. Youâre sitting on the floor in front of his mirror, attempting to cover up a particularly bad hickey your date from last night had left you as a parting gift. His reflection has a wry twist to its mouth. âI should hope it was more than just fine.âÂ
You shrug, tilting your head to dab at the makeup on your neck. âNot the best, not horrible. Iâd call it thoroughly average.âÂ
Your friend hisses sympathetically through his teeth. âNot the sort of rave review most guys strive for. If I left someone with a mark like that, Iâd hope I made it worth their while.âÂ
You canât keep your lips from curving. âI didnât say it wasnât worthwhile.âÂ
âDid he at least make you cum?âÂ
You cough in surprise. âAt least?â You turn around, giving him a disbelieving look.Â
Remusâ answering expression is equally incredulous.Â
âHow common do you think that is?â you ask him.Â
The eyebrow lifts higher. âWell, now Iâm not sure, but Iâve never had any problems.âÂ
You scoff, turning back to the mirror. âThatâs because youâre a guy.âÂ
âNo,â Remus says, amusement tingling in his tone. âI mean, yes, but I meant Iâve never had any problems making other people cum.âÂ
âSeriously?â You freeze with your hand upheld awkwardly above your neck. Youâre doing your best to make this conversation feel casual, but sometimes having an attractive guy for a best friend can get confusing, and the room is starting to feel a tad warm despite the open windows. âLike, whatâs your success rate?âÂ
âWhatâs yours?âÂ
âI asked you first.âÂ
Remusâ lips twitch, fondness beneath his exasperation. âFor women specifically?â
âSure.âÂ
He nods, expression turning pensive. âI canât be exactly sure. I mean, itâs not like Iâm constantly fucking loads of women.â He says it so offhandedly, but just the language makes a tickle of warmth start up in your cheeks. âThere were a couple who didnât, when I was younger, still learning, but since then itâs been fairly high.âÂ
You swallow. You wonder what the learning had entailed, what Remus had picked up that you and anyone youâve hooked up with hasnât. Itâs typically not for a lack of trying, though some certainly invest more time into the ambition than others. You canât say youâve even tried that hard yourself, not in a while and not since youâve reckoned with the idea that it may simply not happen for you. It feels like a pointless exercise.Â
You break from your reverie when you notice Remus watching you in the mirror.Â
âYour turn,â he prompts.Â
âYou canât make fun of me.âÂ
âYou know I wouldnât.âÂ
You absolutely do not know that, he loves to tease, but heâs right in that you donât think he would about this. You catch yourself nibbling on your bottom lip, and stop.Â
You do your best to affect his unflappable blasĂŠ when you say, âZero, so far.âÂ
That blasĂŠ hardly holds up now. Remus sits straight up. âNever? Not once?âÂ
You canât bring yourself to look at him, so you focus on covering the spot on your neck. âNope.â
âNot even by yourself?âÂ
âYou make it sound like itâs so easy.â Thereâs some bitterness in your tone as you tilt your head up, inspecting your work in the light. âI havenât tried in a while, because I was never able to. I got sick of it.âÂ
âOh, sweetheart.âÂ
You try not to melt. Remus will call you that, from time to time, but given the context of your conversation you wish he wouldnât. Suddenly his room feels a little bit smaller, the atmosphere more private than before.
You look at his reflection, expecting to find teasing in his expression, but itâs thoughtful. Contemplative.Â
âYou said you wouldnât make fun,â you remind him. âI feel like that should also include feelings of pity. Letâs not act like itâs some great tragedy to not have cum before.âÂ
âNo, IâmâŚitâs not that. Youâre right, there are worse fates.â One corner of his lips curves slightly, and you mirror him, relieved. âI was just thinking that I couldâŚwell, I might be able to help.âÂ
âWhat?â A little laugh trips off your tongue. Your face is really feeling warm now. âDo you have some kind of manual or something?â
âWould you want my help?â
âIs there a diagram youâre going to show me? Trust me, Iâve seen those.âÂ
âAnswer the question, love.âÂ
You set your makeup down, expelling a breath. Meet his eyes in the mirror with a shrug. âYeah. Sure, Iâd be curious.âÂ
Remus studies you. Analytical hazel eyes and a map of scars you would know blind. âTell me if this makes you uncomfortable, but I could show you, if youâd like.âÂ
Your breath seems to stall in your lungs. âOnâŚâ you trail off, not wanting to misunderstand him.Â
âOn you,â he confirms. âWould you want that?âÂ
Youâre nodding before you can think enough to speak. Your head feels slow and fuzzy, like youâre navigating a dream. âYeah,â you manage. âIf youâre alright with that.âÂ
âWouldnât have offered if I wasnât.â Remus spreads his legs open on the bed, patting the space between them. âCâmere, love.âÂ
âWhatâlike, now?âÂ
âDo you have another engagement?â He gives you a little smile. It squishes the scar underneath his left eye adorably, but when you hesitate he sobers. âHey, we donât have to do anything you donât want to.âÂ
You shake your head, and itâs like your body remembers how to move, propelling you up from your seated position. âNo, sorry, Iâm good with this. I think Iâm just a bit nervous.âÂ
âThatâs alright,â he reassures you. âYou donât need to be, though. Itâs only me.âÂ
You see his eyes drop to your mouth, and you let your lip slip from between your teeth a second time. Remus is right. If thereâs anyone you should be comfortable learning this with, itâs him.Â
When you go to crawl up on the bed, he stops you. âProbably want to lose the pants first,â he suggests.Â
Right. You set your fingers to the button, and it seems to fly open of its own regard. You feel Remusâ eyes on you as you slide them over your hips and step out.Â
âUnderwear too, orâŚâÂ
âNo, weâll keep those for now.â Remus holds a hand out for you, and you get up onto the bed, letting him help you settle in between his legs. Itâs impossible not to be conscious of the feel of his pants against your bare skin, or how comfortably he wraps a hand around your thigh, pulling it open that much wider. âDo you usually start with everything off?âÂ
âYeah,â you say. âIsnât that sort of the point?â
âSometimes,â he hums. âSometimes, though, it helps to work up to it. You need to get warmed up, you know?âÂ
You murmur an affirmation, though you donât actually know. Thereâs never been much warming up when you or anyone else has tried to do this before. But it doesnât matter, because then Remus starts rubbing the outsides of your thighs with both hands, and any sound dies in your throat.Â
âYou have to start slow,â he says in a low voice. Scarred, strong hands moving over your skin. âEveryone responds to different things, and itâs about feeling out what works for you.âÂ
You canât imagine how this wouldnât work for anyone. Remus touch starts moving inward, until his long fingers are dragging over your inner thighs, fuelling a familiar warmth at their apex.Â
âAre you feeling more relaxed now?âÂ
You wet your lips. âI think so.âÂ
âGood. If youâre feeling up to it, you could try touching yourself other places, see what works.âÂ
Tentatively, you slip one of your hands up your shirt. Your breasts feel more sensitive than usual, and when you squeeze one, combined with Remusâ hands on your thighs, it makes your breath catch.Â
âThere you go, sweetheart. Youâve got it.âÂ
Your body starts to slacken against him, but Remus doesnât seem to mind. He only uses his grip on your thighs to drag you closer, propping you up. You canât tell which one of you is warmer.Â
Without warning, his hand brushes over your mound. You gasp.Â
âIs this okay?â Remus asks, his voice closer to your ear than it had been. He gives you another stroke over your panties.Â
âYes,â you breathe out.Â
âAlright. Tell me if I do anything you donât like.âÂ
One hand continues moving over your thigh while the other drags the fabric of your panties aside, flattening over your cunt.Â
âOh, poor girl,â he coos. âIs all this for me?âÂ
Your silence must scream mortification, because he chuckles and bumps the side of your head with his affectionately.Â
âSorry, Iâm only messing with you. Is it always like this?âÂ
You lie. âYeah.âÂ
Remus hums, dragging two fingers through your folds. You squirm in his lap. Your hand has completely forgotten your breast.Â
âI usually start here,â he says, one finger circling your clit. It slips and slides in the mess youâve already made. âYou do the same?âÂ
You nod fervently. He adds another finger, moving over it gently, and has to tighten his grip on your leg to keep it open. Your breaths start coming faster as he repeats the motion. You can feel him getting hard behind you.Â
Just as your pleasure starts to take you under, Remusâ fingers fall away.Â
âYour turn,â he says. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.Â
When you hesitate, confused and a bit bereaved, he chuckles, taking your hand in his and pressing your fingers to your clit.Â
âShow me how youâre gonna do it, sweetheart.âÂ
Tentatively, you try to copy his movements. Your own fingers feel clumsy and inadequate compared to his, but after all the work Remus has put in theyâre still enough. You chase that tightening sensation, hips twitching into your own touch.Â
Remus doesnât leave you on your own for long. His hand finds your cunt again, seeking, it seems, every possible way to drive you to madness. He collects the slick pooling by your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds, and when his fingers breach your hole you make a soft, surprised sound that sends his lips down onto your shoulder.Â
Instantly, youâre aware of how much better this feels. Remusâ mouth is warm and soft, a contrast against the roughness of his stubble. He sucks at you gently, warming you up like he had your cunt, before letting his teeth scrape lightly over your skin. Your date from last night had been so eager to get your neck into his mouth, suctioning onto you like a parasite and rolling your skin between his teeth in a way that hurt more than it helped. Remus is all temperance. He bites you, and then licks it over to make sure youâre soothed.Â
The thought occurs to you that maybe you shouldnât be comparing Remus to someone you actually dated.Â
He curls his fingers inside you, and every thought youâve ever had falls away. All you are is a collection of sensations and wants.Â
âYouâve got it, darling, keep going. Youâre doing so well.âÂ
Your fingers and Remusâ working like one mind, until your thighs are shivering and he has to redouble his efforts to keep you still. Your head lolling onto his shoulder, the way his lips transfer to your neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His scruff scratching under your jaw, moving as he says your name.Â
The myriad of other things he says, sweetheart, baby, good girl, youâre doing so good, growing raspier as the pressure in your core worsens until you worry youâll shatter if he doesnât keep ahold of you.Â
âLet go,â he instructs, kissing the skin beneath your ear lovingly. âYouâre alright, just let go.âÂ
You choose to trust him, and your bodyâyour beingâsnaps.
You make sounds you canât hear, your own fingers stuttering and stopping while Remus works you through the new sensation, murmuring assurances into your skin. Runs his free hand over your trembling thigh.Â
Eventually, your mind quiets enough to hear that his breathing is nearly as labored as your own. He slips his fingers out of you. You try to turn around to face him, but your body betrays you, slumping against his front.Â
Remus chuckles, smoothing a hand up your side. âGood job, sweetheart. You did beautifully.â He smears a kiss over your cheek. âHow was that?âÂ
You sigh blissfully. Your brain feels pulverized. âReally good.âÂ
Another soft laugh. âYeah? Glad to hear it.âÂ
âThank you.â You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to look up at him.Â
âYouâre welcome,â he replies, voice warm with amusement. âHonestly, I should probably be thanking you. I feel quite lucky.âÂ
You hum bemusedly. Remusâ sex-slicked fingers run lazily over the inside of your thigh. Perhaps your mind is still addled from your orgasm, but this feels incredibly normal to you now.Â
âReally? Why?âÂ
âI just,â he exhales, leaning his head against yours lightly. âI just canât believe I was the first person to hear you make those sounds.âÂ
âOh.â You feel the tickle of embarrassment coming back to you. It draws your shoulders in. âSorry. Was I very loud?âÂ
âDonât apologize, sweetheart.â Remus turns his head, kissing your temple firmly. âYou were perfect.âÂ
#fic.rec#bestfriend!remus lupin#bestfriend!remus lupin x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader
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Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies
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